*
I wish no one
to die without a hint
of poetry
a hue of love
compassion or
passion
I wish you
all the urge to cross
over this
threshold
while in your home
a nice skin
seeking a touch
from heaven to come
.
.
.
.
This poem is at page 107 in the new “California Notebooks 02” soon to be out!
.
.
*
when dad died they
clothed him for funeral
his hands so beautiful
crossed over his chest
they were the only thing
talking of him to me
I took a picture my
relatives anger rose
I could not avoid that
I haven’t seen it once
that picture it’s hiding
away to be gazed at on
a day when I’ll accept
distance or enjoy
closeness where
will my hands
go when I die
not on my chest
nor on my belly
for that short
time of the viewing
a sense of lack
of no more breath
a heaviness not favoring
digestion nor straight aside
as a soldier of whose army
.
.
.
.
.
*
to soar up
above all
where stars
wait on the night
to pasture blue
clouds unkempt
where prayers
roam before
finding rest
.
.
.
.
.
*
as I try to conquer time
that stillness of the eternal
on a gravity laden earth
revolving on itself
I beg to trample on
new soil and roads
larger horizons in
the foolish attempt
to make believe
I’m in truth flying
.
.
.
.
.
*
under or above
removed from usual
grounds from valleys
to enter quieter realms
stillness and marvel
to be marginal
observing whether
with fish or birds
a new silence
lingering in
eternity
.
.
.
.
.
