OK, it's time to start writing again

The Love of God

Alone he waits behind aged stained glass
Back and forth and back
He likes it here
Like church
In his earthen apartment
Under the cobblestone stairs of an old delicatessen
The world, when he would look out,
Was always warbly, bubbly, indigo and maroon and lavender
The world, if it were to look in, would see him the same

He has so much Love
Here is a cricket crossing his floor
And there it goes again,
Uninterrupted,
Between stacks of vinyls,
Barriers of inventions and wires and wheels
Invented barriers
Darkness,
And that bright purple square in the south wall
The dimmer purple parallelogram on the floor beneath

The muffled ding of a bell means order up
Another order of meat to go, up above
There's a contraption in the corner,
Hooked to the telephone
so that any time it rings,
LED lights will put on a dazzling show
Fireflies and fireworks and angels
He's set up incense to cover the smell and calm his nerves

The man himself is a tattered and lonely man-
Nearing, fearing forty
Facing this world all alone
Facing away from the world, now, really
You can look at the back of him
His Gene Wilder hair, patches in his suitcoat to make him feel more scholarly
Socks that only ever match if it's a coincidence

Look at him working,
Over the past nine years,
Cutting holes in his pockets in defiance of ownership
In defiance of change
Building his dream machines out of old lampshades and a record player
Childproofing the outlets and asking them to be his portals to a tiny land of love and magic (the same?)
Leaving the doors unlocked at night, just in case.
Is it warm in here, or just dark?

There sits his bible, under the light. A magnificent tome
It's the kind with the words of Jesus in martyr's blood red
Leather binding
And pages and pages for genealogy in the front, with some brightly colored saints
(No pages for progeny)

He reads of the love of God. Pure.
To possess charity is to have love FOR god, love LIKE god for his fellow men, love FROM god, he understands
He has so much Love
Jesus loves me, reads a scrawling script on a note that will be discovered much later by some stranger whom he also loves.
Up up up goes the handwriting, and then a sharp ragged down, telltale down

In a final experiment (thanks be to god for his unspeakable gift)
He uses some wire
The effects of gravity and sharp, sudden pressure
The details are meaning less

He really couldn't help himself
It's just that god loved him so much
And nobody nearer ever seemed to...
In all of this setup, years that led to this test of a hypothesis,
The phone never rang. Still no fireworks, no fireflies, no saving angels.
And now silence,
Same as before,
Save for another muffled ding from a bell up above.

He has so much Love

a round

show me where the circle starts
and i'll show you where it ends

there is a place within that holds the answer
respond to it
as it responds to you

show me where the circle starts
and ill show you where it ends

chasing tail appears frivolous
until you realize
you can create a circle
now you have an answer

show me where the circle starts
and ill show you where it ends

when climbing a mountain
you're always looking up...
is it you wish to be where you're going
or that nothing great ever got done
without a bit of enthusiasm?
 
show me where the circle starts
and ill show you where it ends

there is a circle within us all
a system
let yourself be
guided by the senses
guided by the sense
let yourself be

show we where the circle starts
and ill show you were it ends

there is a place within that holds the answer
respond to it
as it responds to you

show me where the circle starts
and ill show you where it ends

chasing tail appears frivolous

until you realize
you can create a circle

now you have an answer

show me where the circle starts
and ill show you where it ends

when climbing a mountain
you're always looking up...
is it you wish to be where you're going
or that nothing great ever got done
without a bit of enthusiasm?
 
show me where the circle starts
and ill show you where it ends

there is a circle within us all
a system
let yourself be

guided by the senses
guided by the sense
let yourself be


show we where the circle starts
and ill show you were it ends

i'm here to show you

keep focusing on that
    you'll get it
i'm a writer, poet, lover, friend, cyclist, adventurer, do it all
   i'm healthy, wealthy, aware, illuminated, wise, traveling without moving
      my soul beams with enthusiasm
inside energy connects with itself
because i said so, i believe so, i feel it
      and so it is
 because it already is

Sunset

he goes down on her
she comes alive
fire in her loins
warmth crashing through her in waves
he is vibrant
draped in gold and magenta
and clouds
she reflects his energies back
they make each other beautiful
he plunges, sinks
with a slow and solid
burst!
his fire is everywhere
she groans
roars
he lights up
she
a second behind
then still
he is enveloped in her
she pulls the blinds
leaving us in the dark
to wonder what happens
between now and morn

in the shadows

Chasing land bathed in gold down the eastern side of pyramid peak
        moments before twilight
we followed lush greenery resting at the sides of the summer trickle forever
   cascading-
             filling

                   the 
                       lake 
                         below
skipping rock, descending boulder, sliding snow only delivered us to the
       light of the moon
under which we prayed and slept in peace

live oak

were I that old
clothed in moss and cobwebs
so stately
having seen men and grandsons plow these golden fields
having watched the sun set over the hills seventy thousand times
having freed children from gravity
offered myself as a memorial to lovers
comfort for the aged
had i gained the wisdom of the years
and the seasons and the storms
had i been singular in the eye of god for an eon
i too would send my roots deep into the hillside
embrace the land
let the earth whirl around me a thousand times more
as i hold still
motionlessly watching these curious young creatures all around
as they bustle about in their town in their cars
i'd send my branches out at solid gnarled angles
never moving
ever reaching toward the light

drake's bay

a bay full of gold
                   that no one can find
waves that crash near steep cliffs
                        pound flakes into the sand
Drake did leave gold here
            not hidden leagues under the sea
near sharks or seals
      no treasure chest contains it
widow ghost guardian
          the gold he left you can see any day
when you walk through the hills to see the bay
 

Conquistador

A new land discovered, food and spices, wild flowers and exotic beasts and dark cultures. But so many men stay in their ships, sailing from port to port, trying to find an empire of metals and jewels. Spend your life in endless pursuit, if pursuit is the thing you love most. Sail the seas, cut through jungles and everglades, but know before you set out that you'll never drink enough from any fountain to quench the thirst for youth. Those moments are now.


There are golden cities men spend their lives in search of. El Dorado, the gilt one, El Adorado, the loved one. I will be wise, search for a while, then find my golden city in the sunrise reflected off adobe walls. I'll find my perfect lover among the imperfect people around me and love that imperfect lover with a perfect love. I'll shine the golden light of my love onto austere earthy features, change the walls of that city into mirrors and doorways and beacons of solid gold.