Parent/Guardian

When the parent cries – don’t
leave us – to the child – calls
beyond all this, a pure
Burst or depth of feeling
pours, tears and distances
And when the parent speaks

From hope in a moment
When all hope just popped off
the map like a rusty
paperclip – leaving us
with a torn old damp map
And the coming storm dusk

When the child lies wounded
and they have stepped in – now
aware or not, they give
help as if it were breath
at the end of all things –
when they build love again

From broken pieces – when
the glass was so shattered
it seemed impossible
– they build a cracked mirror
which is just good enough
and we see ourselves smile

And when the parent says
I can’t carry it for
you – but I can carry
you – up death’s dusty slopes
at the end of all time
I can stand here and know

You who brought us here – you
who spend each moment with
the careful thrift of love
You who listen, who stand
who let us go; your world
sings in soft new bindings.

I. 6×6, With Reference to Rain

A tree is falling down
somewhere, always – the bark
perhaps shed – no matter
whatever the state – all
trees fall at some time – or
decay takes them slowly

the point is – all that noise
all that lost feeling calls
out louder than grass growth
louder than the mushroom’s
creaking love of all life
ingesting – and bright plants

– they swarm in a dancing
wind and send small sermons
out from damp petals – out
in the clouded darkness
out in the beading rain
every single gold day.

There are arguments made –
witness the ant’s rebuke
to the flat earth’s respite
witness the air breathing
the whole flotilla in
and with a breath again

this shout of all star-fall.
Billion years refute still
longer still years – it’s mad
considering the dark
to look at this strong joy
at all this cafuffle

A plane beams – a car moans
a shed settles – notice;
while all this can be changed
there is still the moment
when you unwrap a gift
hear the rain’s soft shuffling.

Three Sketches

I –

A calcinated cliff towers over the wood
Riddled with caverns and within those
caverns, we find more caverns, the walls
Are made of caverns and the floors
Well, little difference there with an abyss
If I’m honest. The clouds dragging
themselves over the earth set up
A tone, with a little liquid and a vibration
Which gets the lightwaves shivering
And humming, with all the depth of oceans
And it blasts through into the very skeleton
Of the plateau, into the brain of the earth
Blasts it right up until the moment when
It almost shivers apart. Then waterfalls
Fall, crash down along the paths of thought
Filling it all up slowly with a mercurial
Liquid, the liquid of worth. It brims
brims with all of value, even the chasms
Blackness seems somehow fuller.
And that’s music.

II –

We watch as it happens;
The glint descends, glistening.
It flutters and curls before landing
With a flitter just beyond hearing
Around her eyes, nesting in wrinkles
Burrowing deeper, I soon see it looking
Out at me, and we smile. And I know
From now on, what she wants of me.

III –

Still night, dark night, night
To tempt the stars to a long flight
Or to give it up and fall, crash
To earth or ocean, falcon fast
Fitting snugly into the mineral
Dance and swirl of all nocturnal
Dust, but the air is still and thick
It waits, quietly, rainless in
The fug that stillens everything.

The Sun

The sun my angel rise on an autumn morning
This is the allegory. Seemingly unchanged
A sea of dark grey shades, an orange tint
This first morning mourning, the light of a firefly
Suspended on that sad height the sun, glows
The word glows with a sad inability to match
Who has set the atmosphere on fire?
I fear the dark fire of the winter which,
I fear all seasonal signs and portents
Be it leaves on the floor, a frozen sheet

Fate

I see possibilities arrayed
like a great flagstone path
and each flagstone has moss
and plants grow inbetween

And each flagstone is carved
from stone milled from language
the language of books and films
they are stacked about the path

And the rain and wind-grit
are giving them a hard time
so the titles have ripped off
or faded in the sun – the path

(this may be important)
only appears retroactively
that is – I can only see it
looking over my shoulder.

The path in front of me
looks clean and I am walking
but I don’t mean to be walking
through a mist from the waterfall

Crab-line Lesson

Drawing up crabs out
Of vast black swimming
Depths – I killed limpets

With a borrowed knife
I stuck the hook through
And my conscience

Twitched with the piercing –
Unknown primal guts
Dripped onto fingers

I dropped the line quick
And after minutes
Of my stunned-keen gaze

I brought them up – they
Faded from the rift,
Scrabbled bright plastic

Murk green crabs, my brothers
The adults taught me
How quick to catch them

I deep-stared at them
With them, swam the pool
A fear taken hold.

I threw them back in.