Last Night

In between traffic noise and unseen neighbors' conversation holy wind in holy leaves sing. Reflections rise up and rival views of vines and cedars as low clouds swift over in luminous lovingkindness. Sparks grace the spaces left among what remains unsaid. This mountain dares us to reach our rough hands into mystery. Hello. Goodbye. Peace.

to discover your needs have been met
by one who loved you before
is a blessing

sometimes pulling back
is the kindest way
to love

an extra day of rest
in hope of healing
as time winds down

eternal combustion
in this city of metaphors
and lost cobbles

maybe it turns
go up, cross over
and then that becomes

painful swallowing
does not prevent
nourishment from entering

search your own stories
for what needs to be told
and tell it

return to this green valley --
our faulty connection will be irrelevant
once the queen arrives

fortune is random
but relative blessing
can be cultivated

street fortune
didn't realize
that's where he went
 

emboldened
but now no one knows
-- it is just there

brown sugar and fig
dark mark moleskin
vintage rooted wave

surviving ghosts reside
in the delicate corners
of your eyes

he thought he got his message across
in the innocuous ways
people communicate

1981, unknown location
courtesy of Pat Cook/YouTube

ever closer, delicate sounds
of love and survival
shimmer above the street

recovered diamonds shimmer
in our united eyes, fallen
from the world to come

attending our reception
loving minds apparent as history
and possibilities are united

the art of possibilities

surface under hinges

apparent scuffs deserted

subtleties emerge
from the haze of wants
vast vista

much will hinge
below the surface
it would truly mean to be

a partner
a focused moment of evolution
unexpectedly significant

if you want
you must speak
or act

anything but clarity
on the night you did not see me
but I was lost in you

new leaves
flicker
in a clear breeze

in the fall of an evening
wind, birds, emerging stars
sprinkle our dreams with kindness

old friends are clear
crisp water --
easy to fall into

we are alone
without a fire, watching
a game that's already been lost

in my pocket
I had the magic number
but you did not ask

photo by M. Leder

as sad as it is

to miss a first bloom

there are worse fates

willful lies in service of profits
endanger innocent lives ~
hope, and work to stop them