June 10th, 2006 at 7:20 pm
(Darkness, Featured Poems, Poetry)
The first Sunday
after the first full moon
after the first equinox of the year,
rise early and lean outside
in the spiced air, listen to the bells ringing.
Morning bells, bells
of the far churches
chuckling their delight for the advent of another spring
in a world that has dawned.
Easter
and already the snows have grown weary;
they drop their coats
and troop back into the darkness.
Already the gale, brabbling wind
discards his piercing shrillness
and his iciness;
he bounds forward on us warm and naked.
Already the distant sun, long aloof
forgets herself,
wanders our way, smiling broadly.
Already the crocuses and daffodils,
the jonquils, the dogwoods, the wisteria, even the white iris
alone in the field by my house,
cast off their shyness; vulnerably
expose themselves before the world,
unprotected and beautiful.
And it is spring. It is spring.
I look beyond the empty lot, out past
the steeples that stand like toys on the far street; suddenly
I see earth supple before me like a gardener
like a mother suckling rich seedmouths
and they spring up.
They spring up, they spring up
in eudicotyledon splendor of living,
resurrected in body once again.
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June 10th, 2001 at 5:27 pm
(Darkness, Featured Poems, Poetry)
Sun is a flight of photons
pelting me in the morning
entering the soul of my body
in photonic penetration.
Gold little embers
enter me through my fingers
through the weak frailty of my arms
cocked before me.
How should I know what the secret of life is
when it is only embers
even the sun’s little embers
come to me by these arms?
Comments
April 22nd, 1986 at 5:23 pm
(Darkness, Featured Poems, Poetry)
That day
when spring is come
and birds blow song,
when wind is blue
and sun stirs up
thrashing about till cold be gone
and buds peek forward
from the
womb of the tree
raising their heads like flowers to the air,
while black flies buzz black with
the quick lust of the bee
and butterflies
flair
with their certain, butterfly flair
and ants spin hotly
out their cave-doors in the ground
searching new food
and dragonflies wake soft,
wee in the silence of the morn
beyond the winter-death of sound,
that day, I’ll prance to you
out the early light
and we’ll make our bed
until it is night.
Comments
October 10th, 1981 at 6:57 pm
(Darkness, Poetry)
Dirty Eyes
Public nudity is illegal in the national forest
for the forest has no eyes
but dirty men do
and dirty men run the world, run it dirtily
and when dirty men get naked
it is only to put dirt on someone, usually of the opposite sex.
Public nudity is illegal in the national forest
exactly
as it should be.
As it should be
in this obscene national world.
Wealth & Poverty
The Tasaday get to go naked
any time they feel like it, which is most of the time
and they are the poorest people in the world.
And I, one of the richest—
no it is illegal.
My body is obscene. Don’t think of it.
Illegal Wilderness
When I was hiking down the river trail
inside the edge of the Cohutta wilderness
with all my clothes in my arms and my nakedness public below me
public to the woman, anyway, who was with me
and who made
me rise up in stout freedom
as I clumsily hiked along
—if other
hikers had come around the bend
I could have been arrested! My
wilderness—
unclothed of God and all!
The Lord’s Way
Actually, if Christian friends tell the truth
(and I know they would never lie)
God disapproves of nakedness.
Which isn’t surprising, seeing He made it.
Comments
June 10th, 1981 at 6:54 pm
(Darkness, Poetry)
There are certain smells
that hang around
no one but girls
I’ve found.
There must also be
a smell for boys,
maybe the scent of their pee
or maybe their toys.
But I cannot tell
no matter how I try
what a boy’s smell is.
Guess I’m a boy is why.
Comments
June 10th, 1981 at 6:46 pm
(Darkness, Poetry)
If you take ten things you know
and mix them well together
and dump them to a salad bowl
will it help you find the weather?
Ok, you bring a million things
into your search of weather
or split them to a million bowls
is your salad any better?
And have you found a single cloud
from your verbalizing loud?
Have you seen or touched a sound?
Have you made a raindrop round?
Comments
June 10th, 1981 at 6:26 pm
(Darkness, Poetry)
If dreams were my fingers
and prayers dances come true,
on falling meadows I would linger
sleeping with you.
And life were a true thing,
which it is (but not soon)
I would give up my manhood
to relearn it from you.
If wind be my voice
with a tongue green as leaves,
I’d speak you no noise
harsher than breeze.
And thoughts were an oak tree,
not intellectual—but were dark—
words curl like black branches,
kisses thicken like bark.
Comments
June 10th, 1980 at 6:50 pm
(Darkness, Poetry)
Oneness is found in the East
Wonder’s at home in the West
but Faith resides in a place of peace
between a woman’s breasts.
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