It’s not the greatest time, this moment: “Now”
(It never is). In meager morning light
A rabbit surges forth and drives a plow
Unearthing dreams in wakeful slumber-sight.
Is all this real? The dew asleep on leaves
Will soon awaken, painfully aware
That sunlight burns. No matter who believes
That water droplets cannot feel the glare
Of solar flares, my friend, the sun by noon
Will desiccate the truth relentlessly.
But sunlight cannot say which figures loom
Within our shadows, circling endlessly
Like ancient sacred snakes devouring
Their tails in timeless ever-blossoming.
The tides that rise within our sightless eyes
Are filled with shadows drifting gently up
From atavistic depths. Who are we? Rise!
Stand up inside yourself! Remember us!
The buildings looming distantly will fall.
Our greatest triumphs rise instantly
Then dissipate in endless air like calls
From beaks amidst the shaded mystery
Of redwood groves. Now look, the trees are brave
In ways unknown to us, I must admit
At least as much as that. But they behave
According to the Earth, and they submit
to Nature’s laws. Our human knees will bend
When dead (and only then) my fatal friend.
Hypnotic ~ the din of raindrops ~ Listen.
Fall asleep, but listen: Hear the laughter
Tumble down the night and soundly christen
Ground. In brimless sin before and after,
Sopping-wet, bedraggled dreams with lovers
Catch you sleeping ~ waiting, wanting, finding.
Look! Above the bed, a shadow hovers!
In those spots, the sightless find too blinding
Angels bask, their feather-tipped devotion
Spreading, song-like, out to gather power
Dropped from skyless clouds of spent emotion.
Hanging on to air, we stay and cower.
Wake, my friend, and find your stranger senses
Peering out at life with stranger lenses.