I'm sick of making up titles for small collections. So here's one. Original, huh? Nods.

3 more. All connected in a very big way (to me, anyhow). Yep.

'myst'


you believe i'm roma
caught in another body, another home.
i'm inclined to believe you. i'm inclined
to think in song. and dream of smoke and fire
to twist my limbs around. to furrow this land
with ocean laughter.

spinning wings. azuire thermals.
and we. and i. and you.  



'surfing and dancing in raglan'


the fabric of the sky here
is seamless. i would unroll it even more,
shoulder the waves and tell you
i miss you already.

am i seventeen or twenty-seven?
i forget sometimes. forget that i should
explode with sadness. forget
that i shouldn't dance with a strange girl
who looks at me with indian ink eyes.
forget that i should be writing a novel by now.
filled with interludes involving
my housemates on their adventures
in the city and beyond. telling me
i am a crazy boy, too lit up with life
for others to comprehend.

no, i'm twenty-seven. on the cusp
of something either glorious or damning.
likened to endless summer or graunching quicksand.
decided by the next three years of mine.
here, wherever. beyond the sky
unravelling.



'sepulchre'


there's endless truth in eyes
clouded over, looking away as if
you'd catch this and smile.

it's incense and pearls on a fine day.
it's fingers outstretched, searching for divinity in flesh
and communion in dreaming escapades.
a house of cards, as always, toppling,
toppling, rearranged.  
i was never much good at bluffing.
too enthralled with nights spotting mars and venus:
perfectly aligned, an orange orb and bright white evening star
as companions. as scarf to neck. as a grandfather clock
in a wizened villa, high stud ceilings crackling with decrepit paint.

there's industry here, voices and endless commotion.
i would give all of this up, run away to hills yet to be named.
turn the soil over and plant my childhood once again.
discover the sugary snap of pea-pods opened by inquisitive fingers.
steal chicken eggs and marvel at the difference corn and scraps makes.
to the colour. the vivacity of a utopia i've always dreamed of.
the thread of skyline, and i with a fish-hook, intent on pulling it in.
into my shadow, into my daily conversation
with gaia.

bread and wine, infused with love.
grace and mirrors to every angle i touch.
magnified. blooming. veins filled with silver and life.
children and laughter, a given. if i were to follow this path.
escape, and forever escape. light, forever light.

amen.

Reviews

[LJW]

I was surrounded by mist as I was reading this. Not really, but the quality of your writing is such that it can take me away. That is not easy to do, as I am a very literal writer, drawn to literal writers. This magical quality you have is, well, magical. :-) I love these two pieces, too many lines to single out just one or two, but hey, let me try anyway...

OK...ALL of this is brilliant:

(when I say brilliant it means I wish I had written it myself) :-)

am i seventeen or twenty-seven?
i forget sometimes. forget that i should
explode with sadness. forget
that i shouldn't dance with a strange girl
who looks at me with indian ink eyes.
forget that i should be writing a novel by now.
filled with interludes involving
my housemates on their adventures
in the city and beyond. telling me
i am a crazy boy, too lit up with life
for others to comprehend.


And then this:

i would give all of this up, run away to hills yet to be named.
turn the soil over and plant my childhood once again.
discover the sugary snap of pea-pods opened by inquisitive fingers.
steal chicken eggs and marvel at the difference corn and scraps makes.
to the colour

And finally this:

the thread of skyline, and i with a fish-hook, intent on pulling it in.


Beautiful work here.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

and yes yes very original title!

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

amen .. i have not read you in too long this is soo beautiful
i adore it is all i can say ..
Chloe
xoxo

[Emily B]

I can't believe I missed this. I wonder how that happened. These are beautiful. Wonderful. I felt myself floating away from the idiots who sit around me at work. Away from the machines. And the fluorescent lights. And the foolishness. Adrift in a sea of beautiful images and haunting words. Or was that haunting images and beautiful words. Either way. Your work is something that I can immerse myself in over and over. It's always good to come back to

[Chirpy!]

Every time I read one of your poems, my mind goes on vacation and a monotone buzz takes it's place.
I would write a little more about these, but none of my warnings make sense.

[Lori]

WOW! I love the ethereal presence of the narrator throughout these three, particular "myst". I love how you make the physical world mirror interior landscapes. When we see the never-ending sky, we sense it's the wide open mind of the narrator (um....that would be you) that wants to drink in everything and never wants to shut down. It's captured again in the way one poem flows into the next. Time seems to merge together here, the past, present and future, because the narrator seems so content to be in the moment, despite what others might think he should feel. This is shown so well, particularly in the lines of the second poem when "forget that I should / explode with sadness. forget / that I shouldn't dance..." I can go on and on, but really this is just fine, fine work. You're a rare talent. I'm jealous, but in a good way. :)

[Touché Armada]

Why the mysterious fave?
Cause I wanted to keep going with this line... "and we. and i. and you".... And they and us and them and their theirs

And this one mainly- 'sepulchre'
I just like it okay? Amen (I agree)

If someone can say "wonderful" and thats ok, then I can be vague as well =P

[Fabian G. Franklin]

great stuff, reference to Gaia in the third one made me think of John Varley, not remembered him and Scirocco Jones in awhile. i like the associations in the last piece as well; my favorite of the trio, all well written.

[Phibby Venable]

wonderful!!