A Mischief-Bird

You see feathers.
Wash them, don't foster.

In this case
The wolves will make the quickest
Profiting.

Obviously the Rooster won't let any harm come to the flock
And then there is the fence for this business with dogs.

It's all talk.
There is no fence
And thankfully, these wolves are not dogs,
They have extra-ordinary senses,
All work, no talk.

Wait for tomorrow, and the next dawn,
Then we will talk.
No words, I will use pictures,
A bit more room to walk.

I will give praise as it is taken,
Not my hand, though it chalks.
Echoes only aching for that fresh breath, again
A friend of no-man.

The Rush

What is the extent
Of these groves half-sullen?

Vines wrapped up in
Messy mountains—stolen, accosted.

Ramble, Granted the Gravel and
Dirt don't Hurt like The City

And Hail Mary full of Grace
I watched as men fell down, men took their place.

Full of heart yet heavy,
Pumping chests and shooting lead.

Howling veins of fury,
Roots dug down among my kin.

Brothers all around me
But my bed of roses is just a bitter cup,

My day is started and yet my day is done;
What dire weather fosters in the hearts of us.

I have heard those shots, half-fired if not in anger
And I have heard their replies deafen us.

Neither God nor King or Country,
The modern war is as modern does.

I'll mention Eisenhower
And the military-industry, all for what?

I am merely a child
In a company half-strangers

While empires rise up
And decline as the sun.

What I will say right now
Is change your course.

What I will say again
Is

Resh

And if you want to understand that
Then you have to throw out everything

I mention.

Now I will just try to say
Something about the sun

Relative to your perception,
Said in myth a chariot pulling it

On and on round the heavens
Relative to all of our senses.

In this pen there is no deception, now then,
Do you think the sun can care a hair

About your perception?  No and with good reason,
It is there just existing and you're allowed

To think about it as anything.
Do you think the Truth cares a hair

What you believe in?  With the same proof
It is there just being

And you're allowed with the same reasoning
To believe in whatever the hell you have reason to believe in;

The sun doesn't move relative to us
We move relative to the sun.

The truth indeed gets covered up
But it screams beneath all varnish.

I cannot refrain, in truth, I love.
Tell me anything half-hearted, or hold

Up some deception there-of,
What shines bright, imposed against that backdrop

Like a diamond in the rough?
I am only moving, relative to what?

Distance, envelopes half-opened
Relative to what?

Priceless, sister, what elegance is effulgent?
I tell you everything is love.

I am the ear of a patient listener
For the sound of echoed guns.

Make your self a careful center, you are a taste-tester
Relative to what? Opening each and every morning

Everything is love, my dear, and everything there-of
And on and on forever and always,

All that will be, all that can be, and all that was.
Fuck, what can be said of it?  Any semblance

Seems to get in the way.  Shining innocence
I'm parting, dearly departed, give them all of my love

Again and again and again, half-open,
These shimmering plays are wrapping me up.

Parsifal

As you say, a safe practice
Inside these walls.
Intrepid maneuvering,
A parchment to call.
All this whine of engines,
All these spirits for fight
Distilled apparent entrails
Parcel to the sight.
And lo and behold
Monsalvant, Percival
And a festival of light!
Details, details,
Give me the swift kick, alright.
This wish, this distance, cannot be
But might.  This is the list of
Whispers, this death the dish of night.
Now hold up and forget your feathers
Fallen to the ground.
Breathe deep the air of winter
Weathered dark with sight and sound.
Brazen, an intricate conception,
In time given and in time taken away.
Eventually, everything will fade
Into the chaos, into the fray.
Into the frenzy, yonder mountain awaits.

Half-naked

Picking up again, where were we last glance?
This on-again, off-again trading
Is long in the past.
But once, just once more
Is the price I drive too high
Or a bargain to last?

Pistol shots ring out in the dead of the night
Tonight let me bury it alive.

This Jesuit Jury was
Long on the benches.
In Boston it snows now
Like it did last Christmas.
Knock it out the box, kid
Straight for the fences.

My hope has now known fear, and in knowing returned.
It replies,

"A rapier week for week
I work, I work and watch shipwrecks recovered from
The depths, correct?"  It's just a question
And yes, I tend to live beneath her patience
With this grace there is much I have taken
But if it still snows in Boston
(And it's true, I'm a layman)
Then I am still needing favor.
So as this pad is my witness
I'll call Temperance my patron.
My life is signed within these lines
And every page her sanctum.
The still and silent prayers;
The laws of love and labor.
This house of oak, this house I know
Like an empty, empty painter
Half-taken.

A Sword

"What the sinew holds together
The steel still cuts through."
The simplest and most profound
Will always have the sound.
Now, suit up
For war and for plenty
For famine and for party
A cloak is friend to every.

My Sister

Everything once you thought you knew, forget
Let this water shine, well to intertwine
And held ahead against a vast entryway, advancing like the waves
A promise to print and recollect everything I see, and say
Who is sent here this way sailing, hands held high against the waves
Against all this sorrow trailing, hard pressed for fallen names
All these roads left drifting, the friends who've passed away.
Nyx this golden passageway, the oldest night we entertain
And reason? To be sure, unreasonable.  No less demanding than
Complete and total pain.  Harping!  And what distance, apart from me and you
And well I wish to witness every play until it's through.
Three shades form so fairly swift, the curtains captain
One word will lift, convinced defense of nyx, this passageway.

What Has Yet To Be

A pond of conventions,
Which way to flow?
I might prevail within this fence or choose to circumvent.
Impervious test, throw me to the flames.
I'm here, just listening
I'm here, see everything.  No judging
Lest I be judged.  No strings attached
Respect to each and every path.
Seasoned all winter isn't it grand?
The force of the weather drives me deep underground.
Forever doesn't seem that unpleasant or bad
I've a mind to be forward with what good sense I have,
Prefer the boring coronation?
Give me crowning of the sun.
I say, this spark has left me speechless
High and dry like you wouldn't believe.
Tossed up out of that ocean
Onto a dismal little beach.

Impression:
My feet fell well into the sand
My hand held trails folding into the wind.
Sweet breath from the sea
A season of change clashed and rattled
Attachment to these chains.
Sweet mother, love is in your name
To be held lightly and open
Like a moth towards your flames.
A stone to be appraised
Neatly sent sailing,
Well to mention and well away.
Approaching her gaze
Sinking into memories too intricate to tell, explain:
A soft call nurturing
A hillside all in flames
Atop tall walls hurdling
The broken glass of pain.
From the depths of insistence
An avalanche to name
Broke again in earnest,
Following the one.
Forget my paving
Covering roads just a bit too complicated
Watcher at the door.
A moth, a wash, a field of flames.
A mass, a reputation, the moon of refrain
Practically faded from my vision, one name.
The sun sets sailing, burning strong and plain.