It’s the West that has altered who I am,
the Cross that defines me.
The culture is often the land, the
softly spoken words of God that merges
body, soil, soul.
They are familiar to me, the wolf and the owl.
The two post of my bed, the great gray; his and her
head shelter the books over my head.
Along my body the gray wolves settle down to stand guard
their heads upon their paws and the whine
of urgency within their throats.
The hunt comes,
The hunt soon comes.
The Eagle circles overhead.
He lifts himself high into the mountains
rides the currents of air so thin, so fresh
only faith keeps him aloft.
He swoops down in flashing speed and calls to me
The wolf and the owl, cry in reply
Not yet, son but soon the hunt is on.
Soon all of us will pull the body,
dig up the soil
repair the soul.
what could possibly destroy the dust;
the wind that blows the choke into the corners,
blinds the eyes, coats and soaks the skin?
What could destroy the dust that destroys
Look hard, look hard beloved, as the flowers fades.
Crimson red in stones of gray, the smell of
salt and the women’s skirts sway in the breeze.
Keep all of these.
For each one fades as you fade; this frightens
I fear death in only that is separates us further
I can not jump this chasm
so I fret about what I cannot alter and shout
warnings that the dust covers, muffles, and chokes.
The devil himself chortles.
I break down every once in awhile to pray-weep.
You dance, hold tight the waist of her next to you,
I’ll hunt with the spirit wisdom God gives
I’ll knit a shirt of red, soaked in tears.
I’ll sew a shirt of blue soft as the spring time air
I’ll knit a shirt of white the color of mourning.
In the islands she sold her spinning wheel
for her love’s sword of steel
in the north we had at one time the space
Now I’m old and think I have been born too
The she wolves lie down beside me in the night
the owls perch upon my right and upon my left.
We wait for the end.
I will rise up with a shout and die face first.
The spinning wheel crushed, the sword driven
deep within the earth
The wolf and the owl, spirit strong forever
with me. My last words?
I shall continue
The touching of minds
Must be physical
Complete – you complete the tearing
Apart of me.
I know, I’ve been at your command.
Still in pieces
At odds with right and wrong
And the idea of love smoothing over the wounds.
The only difference between me
Now and then-
I’m content to remain
The summer heat wraps around this old house but cannot enter in.
The cold of winter inches up and the ice shifts the foundation to yet a better position.
That’s the beauty of old – peaceful resignation.
Let the young make their mistakes, learn to mourn.
Gone and forgotten these old places, preserved with the idea within the old, the then young
We were once, better.
The heat and the cold just come and go.
let me show you the deepest of shadow, the hidden
parts that the world and its war machine
It’s here, real, with no judgment
no sights to sicken, no mothers
And the spot, bloodless, virgin
will cradle me, as I cradle you;
sing to you in soft words of water
love you deserve.
Yes, I’ll sleep in your arms-
the brook, the rain, the water
all around -
a pattern, a pain
leaving me, leaving the shadows, the rain
for the arid dry land of home.
A pattern you see – so you remember
there is the best
despite the stones being thrown.
During the everyday, I love you.
So blatant a statement – so Hallmark.
Let’s argue about the worth or worthlessness of ketchup or catsup in the grocery isle.
I want you.
I want the edge and fight and I
Want to hear you whisper
‘Not yet, not yet’
And mean ‘surrender’
And some times you do or we do
I love you during the everyday
When you drive a little too fast, one
Hand upon the wheel, the other held by me, covered in soft kisses and next
To my pounding heart.
Been a while since I’ve been sleepless
Haven’t missed it.
Been a while since I’ve missed you.
Haven’t missed that either.
Here’s a little secret
I’m not entirely honest-
But I try to be.
I won’t be consumed, I won’t be over
Run in love with you-
No matter how much I love you
And I do
But no one knows not even me
Just when I’m sleepless
I always take a running start at my cage
revel in the pain, watch the marks of violence
breakout upon my skin
the bars of my cage feeling nothing.
So I get even and erase all the marks
I make upon the walls,
the brilliance and the slop
that sings of sentiment rather
than matter – cold, precise matter.
the faces outside my cage worry
their faces into frowns and ask
me why I don’t love them.
Yeah, no kidding.
The news is never the same
when looking across the
Nearly 18, then no longer
but to a government that
decides the fate
of all those young men of
So many times failed
to fix the
price of breathing on this
Never mind, let the
next generation get