lances to the heart

the story where the orphan
finds true home
the scripture wherein
the world is saved
by its own inhabitants
lances to the heart, indeed
the book of invisible blessings
one in each phrase
unknowable because they are
innate, we reach
but do not succeed
and in that utter defeat
are complete

last love song

placing songs
in my pocket
saving them
for later
for you to hear
sweet rendezvous
and sweeter parting
we were never meant
to know one another
our love, not chronicled
in any scripture
or foretold in any tabloid
and we hold on
these last of moments
as if we will never
let go
and when we do
our souls leave our bodies
embracing
in a place
devoid of ending

Reckoning with Essential Bliss

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Well, that link doesn't work very well, does it?

peanut

sing the morning
crystal rain on ready grass
inside we watch her
child, as peanut as any legume
patting the older couples' aging shih tzu
tentative-both

pink button nose, warm
black olive nose, wet
four eyes big and moist, staring
they would sacrifice comfort of home
for new friend, each

most likely will never meet
on sung morning
touched by prism rain
again

little grump

little grump
with bright mustard mohawk
too small
to be outside of the nest
perched on the brick
lining the U.S. Army Recruitment Center
does not move
does not fly away
as I lean in to say, "Hello!"
a fat sphere, frowning
braced against the wind

no big deal

beginner's mind
unfind me now
no big decisions to make
recess!
vacation...
no thought but what comes
on sweet autumn morning
with a stand of trees
overshadowing
the congested roadway

(not the only) 2 levels of being

how much
I little know
the gregarious life
or the wafting of kisses
between lovers
like ivory tree flowers
touching while falling to the ground
and how superb
my ignorance
of honesty
the rigors of unscaling
my serpent's tongue
masking the flip-flop
of dove wings
as they recede