Bodies can be made accomplices,
As thoughts have motion.
When I push,
You will strike.
I can,
Because you are.
Category Archives: Poems
Mad Cow(s)
Millennials,
were not
grass-
fed.
But the spoon,
was sil-
ver.
Old vengeance,
is new vengeance,
is old ven-
geance.
For all you do, you walk the earth;
Incomprehensible song in you—flowering madness,
She, mindless dancer over your breath of history:
Please learn the laws you cannot make.
A prayer . . .
were not
grass-
fed.
But the spoon,
was sil-
ver.
Old vengeance,
is new vengeance,
is old ven-
geance.
For all you do, you walk the earth;
Incomprehensible song in you—flowering madness,
She, mindless dancer over your breath of history:
Please learn the laws you cannot make.
A prayer . . .
Mind Says What You Know
Mind says of the body
You cannot leave me alone with this creature;
I’m caught in the middle
Of the two at war;
I am wasted by their rage.
The light is less
What I am,
Where I am,
But how I am
To live
With and through
This natural war on reason
With you and everybody else.
Advice To Hungry Changing Creatures Who Can Read Advice
Your will is not the way;
Hardly yours.
Trust in yourself to find what is yours;
Trust in others showing, finding;
Take the will that wills to give.
Give it back;
Gifts,
Are every thing and non-thing that concerns you.
Don’t give up.
This Is It
The foolish speak as if they have arrived.
Where going? runs through the wise.
The sunrise
The moonrise
The stars,
Are in a flash
Followed,
For they are bright,
All bright.
Under all of this shining mass,
Is the clamor of voices,
Is no answer
But brimming with answers
Windblown,
Where going? runs through the wise.
The sunrise
The moonrise
The stars,
Are in a flash
Followed,
For they are bright,
All bright.
Under all of this shining mass,
Is the clamor of voices,
Is no answer
But brimming with answers
Windblown,
Fired by a flash of light followed for its brightness.
Yet what flashes, also fools;
But what’s foolish, is human.
Yet what flashes, also fools;
But what’s foolish, is human.
Not words but a song to grow into.
That song, from something else;
That picture, is borderless;
That’s it.
That song, from something else;
That picture, is borderless;
That’s it.
Growing Pains
I had to learn
That what is …right…
Could be what I feel.
Who else could teach me that?
Young Man’s Twilight
It used to be
The satisfaction
Of knowing
What was
Right,
And
Stick-ing
To it.
It’s
Now become the
Chain-shaking joy
Of being shown
How foolish
By innumerable chain-shakers–
A sticky sweet
Prick
From the ancient now.
