» Once

Jenny’s Wind

Rastaban — Sat, 10 Jun 2006 13:53:18 +0000

Jenny would love this gusty wind
were she with me here to see it playing
in these tall oak and birch she knows so well.

Yes, Jenny
would love this gutty wind which sneaks
beneath the leaves, rustling them

until they waken. The breeze
pretends it’s morning still
pretends it doesn’t know about the dark
the silence
which has swept across the world

since yesterday.

The wind is trying harder now.
Relentlessly it tries
to sweep the leaves and branches

into some sort of playful mood
some whim
to rouse them from the death-like mourning
of their silence.

Now and then
it pauses haltingly a moment. Then

rampages
rampaging
as if to chase away the darkness

as if to quell
the soundless whelming of her death
before it blackens out September.

Lake

Rastaban — Sat, 19 Feb 2005 14:42:04 +0000

the slim dark flower
i saw this morning
while walking beside
a lake i’d seen
for only an hour

pressed without warning
deep inside
and made me dream

of her lips’ sweet power

Love Story

Rastaban — Sun, 10 Oct 2004 12:25:39 +0000

Carl & I spent many Mays
roaming hills on sunny days
fighting pirates, routing thieves
building castles, climbing trees
right though to the breezy fall
when leaves became our rampart wall.

Mid-summer of our sixteenth year
all changed, another sex appeared:
a dirt brunette, and a blonde who tracks
Carl up the hill and back.

Laughter echoes between the three
making it very clear to me
between the two he’ll get to choose.

Lucky Carl—he cannot lose.
His eyes are good, he will not miss
her soft blonde hair, the way it twists
and curves like Nature made it do,
and gleams with love in the afternoon.

Then her face he won’t forget—
the chin so soft, yet firmly set
beneath her light blue eyes (those sing
like summer raindrops in the wind).

But I get the girl he leaves behind,
God, I hope he is blind
and does not love the one that’s blonde:

she’s the girl my dreams are on.

Summer Love

Rastaban — Fri, 10 Oct 2003 14:36:24 +0000

Now winter’s come
I like to hum
and sometimes sing a tune

To bring to me
memories
of times we had last June

When I gave you
some summer love
beneath the night’s white moon

Recall we were
beside the shore—
a woman, and a man

Who held her firmly
next to him
on blankets made of sand

Your eyes on mine
were soft and kind
as you pressed against my hips

And the stars above
bright with love
as we tasted with our lips

The waves rolled in
and in the din
we danced a while

Afterwards
we had no words
but silence and a smile

As eye to eye
beneath the sky
we shed our clothes and hugged

Our bodies stark
in the dark
nakedly we loved

The morning smiled
on clothing piled
aside our makeshift bed

And was no talk—

I’ve often thought
of things I might have said

While rapt amazed
I gazed
at the woman I should wed

But now like summer
you are gone—
my winter lingers on

And midnight brings
a pain to things
my heart has felt too long

Moth

Rastaban — Wed, 03 Jul 1974 14:43:38 +0000

A small brown moth that flew at me from a place unknown to make me start or at least ask why – Bid me love and plant my seed until I’ve shown from out my heart – it was a … Continue reading →

Non-Metaphoric

Rastaban — Sat, 30 Mar 1974 14:40:17 +0000

When by windstorm the knowledge-theories fall and men see how blocks have called them on and tricked them into building mental walls of symbolic brick, idea-ic mortar, the overall constructed game of mind that has deprived men of non-metaphoric wind … Continue reading →

Walk in Rain

Rastaban — Sun, 20 Jan 1974 14:38:36 +0000

I like to walk out in the early rain
trudge by the houses hibernating snug
track the road-edge out to where the city ends.
Like to walk far past the traffic all alone
& hear the patter of the rainfall on my coat
taste the morning droplets on my tongue.

Like to see the rainwater play among the leaves
drip from branches onto branches onto ground
trickle through the dead leaves of the floor.
Like to run my hand along the damp oak-bark
dip my bare feet in the dirt. I like to see
raindrops oozing brook-like between my toes.

Like to walk out in the early rain.

Night Sprinkle

Rastaban — Fri, 18 Jan 1974 14:37:36 +0000

The trees, set back, turn dark and black
against the evening sky
and cross the way, at edge of day,
the sun calls out “good-bye”.

Now breezes form to keep us warm
throughout the coming night
and bring (in shrouds) well-hidden clouds
that enter from the right.
While one by one the night stars come
to sprinkle down their light.

They’re followed soon—yes, by the moon—
she guards us close above,
cloaks us in her moonlight grin,
and soaks us

wet with love.

Changes

Rastaban — Wed, 21 Nov 1973 14:33:22 +0000

Feel the changing changing seasons
Changing days changing minutes
Taking sharing our scattered feelings
From the moment to the moment

Feel the pushing pulsing wind
Blowing through the turning morning
Bringing light and bringing shade
To feed our hearts on changing change

Now feel the newborn blushing moments
Each arising from the changes
Touch the feelings in our hearts
Grasp the changing love that comes

Between the coming and the going
Know the blowings of the moment
Fit the changes with the minutes
Share the minutes as they change

The Lesson

Rastaban — Sat, 10 Nov 1973 14:32:43 +0000

With every movement and every eager word she made me feel how wrong it was not to love this simple world. Not to feel that when the trees were swaying, I was swaying too, that when the blackbird flocks were … Continue reading →