home – less bone

May your personal new year’s day
drink from a fountain
that inside of you runs anew
takes the blue and blacks
painting the right rorschachs
each moment in the lake

reflects the mountain
dazzles with heights and still
holds it’s depths for those who
go inside
for those whose inside
has come out

expressing rest
where a tireless seeker
came drinking
found himself perched
on its bank
to look
and begin again
welcomed, at home.

gone now to bones and back

to my son:

What I saw in seeing you was only as much as I see. There beyond me is you. Beyond me is you. Walking in the house of tomorrow I listen you forward, washing my hands – a stumbling fence, slope, ramp. At best catalyzing your innate music into form. You forward. At worst lassoing identity in a hapless construction of ruins.

May your silence remember me to before words.
May the wonder you bring across from the new ancients break me open.
May your awake shatter my excess; your mighty grip surrender my lament.

And as I watch your arrival, from the purest spring inside your mother’s womb~
May you tear the scales from my eyes, lay my heart open and surprise this hunch, hiding any anticipation not so well; my daughter.

swang felts

In calling back to her
those places most of us
frame to burn incense
before
the weight seems to
give us legs.
For some, it’s a swing
so who wouldn’t admire
a serpentine sway
gliding right, along
then give it a story
when no words were
spoken

Beware the way perfume stains
clothes clean and unclean
skin and unskin

Cut the anchors that give
you prime positioning
for a view
for a few.
Our oars are nothing
but for the space
to row.

other empty mirrors

he went to a teacher
asking for a new perspective
who knew for being asked
all was said
saw another riddle for affirmation
so handling the spiral bend
undutifully listened to the smoking
question
before the question
and again
in making a motion only with his hand
the end