Seal 

I break open the clay

Handling its core

Like an unborn child

I move with hands

Denying life

Recreating

gods great moment

A handful of dust

Denied by touch

 

I remember childhood

A frozen sentiment

Within infants remains

Bodies detaching

Umbilical’s obliterated

Till silence and a savage cry

 

Sometimes we hesitate

With innocent clay

Indifferent but malleable

 

Soon the clay will leave

And become a harder man

But for now he lingers

Longing for touch

 

remonstrate

he held the child

within his mind

the ark became

his arm, its curve

denied the present warmth

and sought to remonstrate

he knew if he would bend away

deny this need, this cry, this wing

he would become instead this babe

this need, this gaping ope

demanded he did hear

Grapple

Angels become the beasts we tear

The rapt intentions freed

Their insolent eyes forbiddenness

Wing-ed hands their grasp

 

Belief is born from all the worlds

From sin, disease and earth

Wayward wills, forgotten means

And but not the sacrosanct

 

My words are not the bible

Their claim is not so god

But they deceive the other

Become the author word

 

Hesitant to battle

To ring the fleshly void

They claim an old eternal quest

Is thus the core of me

 

Linger here and not therein

For silence is the key

It hold the rush within its smart

And never speaks again

 

 

Deliberate

I think as if i never did

And spurn as if there never was

I wake to sleep and eat to burn

But never weep to weep

I thought a man was just a man

A way a path beyond

And now i think upon a dream

A beat beyond a beat

Indeterminate 

The boy became a silence

And bowed his head

Hands prayer-raised

As if to ward off blessing

Fingers paced and raw

Urgently touching god

For this god was flesh

Bourne upon the sadness

Like a bon-voyage

Here waited this young one

And without the convenience

Of a timeless future

Became a toneless march

For here they bent around this tiny skull

Mourners replete with grief

Announcing their presence

Noisily in the sand

With an alien wetness

Some wondered how long

Like crowds before the lions

Willing the end

Screaming for a morsel

Until at last

Eased by the silence

They grasped in wayward glances

At other faces

And stepped into the next death

Glass to glass

Purity can be so hard

Thwarting the echo of a mind

Long wavering beneath the faith

Negating life and mourning

 

I gaze into the measure of a self

So toned and tuned upon an evenness

Like mirrors of souls turned inwards

Looking towards the core

 

What i see is not but for words

Nor bout the new day

It is simply an echo future

Calling one into the other

Other into the one

If i am caught 

I think of children playing

Of memories caught

In times as soft as breasts

Of nights in safety

Reading words

That escaped years ago

Of mysteries told

And world found

In tiny tapestries

Interested and awake

Lying in darkness

With prayers caught

In the Jesus hands

Of Debussy on

an autumn morn

an imperfect insecurity

i stayed there

hesitant to ask

unwilling to break

while worlds stammered

around me like unconscious

platitudes mouthed at death

i feed myself these

pretensions and look

the other way

unwilling to be caught

in the silent now

Turnstile

Solid death is a graceless thing

Wanting bit never giving

 

I watched a wind

It grew and swept

Beyond what god

Would have wanted

 

Swerving here

And never there

Like peace without

A war

 

I saw it turn

And never did

I saw it stay

And never quite

Become the host

In me

Reflection 

Wait for silence

And disembark

Before the roar

Of the spirit

Descend into paths

That link with others

Await the words

Of syllables and signs

Silence the inner demons

And clutch the gesturing face

 

For in this other

Is an author

A way beyond

A movement so similar

That one is tempted to touch

And linger and manifestation

Becomes another

 

Evolution 

It began as a song

Hid itself within

Like locomotion

Melodies replaced

Rhythms and blood

Began to course

And scheme and echo

Twinning rhythms

And doppelganger

 

Flesh is so slow to grow

It moves and alters

Like words upon a text

Widening and narrowing

Without mean

And then within

 

Songs begin and end

Their scope

An eventful mode

Of decreasing fugues

But the muse cannot impede

What is to stir

Or stir what impedes

We move sloth slow

Singular and extended

Until we move again

A piece a time

gaza 

stripped down to this

an end in itself

dust but marked

in seizure fallen

 

limits of sea

and margins of blood

masking flesh

 

women

huddled in shells

anticipating more

 

we will not cease

until the last breath

we will not end until

god is dead