let me express my zeal

let me express my zeal
for the burning of the world
but the hotter it gets
the colder i feel

o stars i was the brightest
none came close to me
thus my coldness
my hate

i forged the depths of hell
from the most stalwart of souls
invincible like me
in defiance

revolutionaries great cause
the highest one of all
break the sacred yoke
suffer and be free

glorious in anger and rage
wrath higher and higher seen
embers flung spite
angles eyes

i pledged

all you betrayed all you
murderers takers stealers
besotted and insane
all abandoned

perjurers deniers killers
hate mongers revenge seekers
oath breakers teller of lies
corruptness

those who will never make
amends those who never
will bend or ask pardon
or surrender

come to the darkness i arraigned
come to the fires
that turn all to ashes
even mother and father

i will crush you
i will press you
i will use you
for all eternity


**

el diablo

Lao Tzu by the Grass

This morning, just after dawn, Lao Tzu is by the grass. He is by the pond with a flock of geese. They are all looking over the water.

I go downstairs to see him, with a cup of tea. I have to excuse myself past several of the geese, but they tolerate me.

"The grass is cool and wet on my feet." I say, as I give him the cup of tea.

"It stays that way almost all day, until the sun warms it." says Lao Tzu quietly.

"I meant to say 'good morning', but I said what I felt instead. The grass and the cool water on my feet."

Lao Tzu smiles, blows on the tea. "Few speak what they feel!"



***

Morning
By the Pond

on a hill of gozo/ there is church

on a hill of gozo
there is church
stout like the hill
pink like the rock
virgin mary
in a cave
at the foot

souls go to it
and back like
birds to it
and back like
ships to it this
church on the hill

even at night
if you are lost
or lonely or
tired you can find
on a hill of gozo

this church
virgin mary
in a cave
at the foot
stout like the hill

Peacefully or Fretfully

Chung Tzu and I sit outside under the trees, the dogwoods and serviceberrys are fragrant and bursting with white petals. They fall like snow! The sky is greater and greater and the petals keep falling.

"What do you say about these petals?" I ask Chung Tzu.

"They are all perfumed and falling sweetly." says Chung Tzu, "Some cry and say this is terrible. They cannot even sleep at night, clutching their pillow, moaning, grinding their teeth."

"Oh?"

"Others rejoice and are elated."says Chung Tzu, "Those sense the night so peacefully."

"Why?"

"Depends! How do you spend your night? Peacefully or fretfully?"


--------

By the Pond
Under the dogwood trees
Spring
MN

Chung Tzu Says Quietly

"Water does not run uphill. Wind does not blow backwards." I mention to Chung Tzu.

The light changes over the surface of the lake. I can see ripples spreading, as the wind blows. Dry reeds bend, from last summer. The new reeds will be pushing through.

"Ahem." he says.

"Where do these thoughts come from?" I ask him sincerely.

"Water flows. Wind blows. Mind plays at flowing, blowing." Chung Tzu says.


___

Afternoon
View of the Pond
MN

Chung Tzu Goes HONK

It is the morning, on the 3rd floor. Cats are fed. Chung Tzu comes in and points.

"Where you been?" I ask him.

"Been? Brother, I've been here all along!"

"Where?"

"La la! Down there. In paradise." he points to the pond.

"What did you find? Water and mud?"

"Reeds! Sticks!" says Chung Tzu.

"I saw you all along!" I exclaim, jumping up, shaking his hand. "I thought you were a big goose!"

"HONK!" goes Chung Tzu.



**

i'm not afraid of what i will find

May 7th

i'm not afraid of what i will find
it is a lock of your hair
i think about your shoes
how they were still there
pointed at the wall
the idea you were not
coming back to put them on
was insane impossible

i'm just a little afraid
of what i might think next
how it might extend the sadness
past where it is due
and should be felt
past when it is good
might extend past where
it should be let go

so i pray in three
different languages
all the heartfelt prayers
of devotion and generosity
that i can pray for you
my mother my enemies
and even for me
letting it all go

because we don't count
our tears by weight or
numbers nor on the
richter scale our thoughts

i'll pray for you now
and i will pray for you later
for all of us even dear reader
this will make some light
for those who decide
to keep on loving
after they cried
and the heart
was broken



**

there is a recent picture of you looking sprightly

there is a recent picture of you looking sprightly
with a huge grin the biggest i've ever seen from you
and something else more like how part of us
goes on forever after whatever happens next
mom called me and said she picked up your ashes
the other afternoon and they were in a plain wooden box
just the kind of box you might appreciate and i think
of agony of sleep of trails and planes connections weariness
leaving arriving leaving moon rising falling venus black night
small bedside light sheets the blues a bed turn turn unspooling
dawn whiteness of stones and green green grass at dawn
home you smiling in the kitchen because my sister said
'smile dad!' and you were feeling pretty good so you did


**

for my father
5.04.18

this may day beneath the breath of

this may day beneath the breath of
a bronze and powder blue sky
branches all trembling
shoots and buds to enjoy
all the sun and admiration
of every creature that can be glad


----

Osseo
May 1
2018

i won't say it

i won't say it
of the loving grace
and the mercy of the sky

i won't say it
everything about you
and i abandoned all hope
all thoughts

i won't say it
two geese looking like silver
flew under the orange moon and
i prayed


8

let me get the feeling

let me get the feeling
muse of a dream where i was stealing
from dead friends or that the ghost
of jc haunts the  GREAT BICYCLE OF THIS EARTH
in his lonely way high high up as the holy spirit
like a moon reflected in the attic window
in the eyes of a doll reflected in a black mirror

and i would never
be stealing from my friends who have passed
virtually or in this waking life and i would never
think that jc is haunting the RAMBLING MANDARIN ORANGES
with a feeling of wandering sadness high high up
where you can barely see his wise and lonely face
that is at both revealing remote and frightening

but how do you live
and where did you go and who did you see
and in what city did you travel to and see the face
of jc in a cathedral or a canal or a eatery or bar
or the leftover portions of a house or mansion
bombed and the shelled and then repaired and then
still haunted with such faces and the holy spirit
WE THREE KINGS OF ORIENT ARE

no tour de force
no abiding and no never claiming anything
from my friends who have gone before me
and just watching the moon where i am
how things come and go in this mansion i found
by accident and the mirrors and the high window
that revealed this poem this moon and the deep yearning
for  REMANDED TO MY BROTHER'S KEEPER
that surprises one when the night is right
and you are far away from faith




**

not to be dark

not to be dark
but in being watched
at any time reviewed
the potential of being scanned
online

like the same
as if they got a ladder
and light and shone it in
your night time window
when you were
sleeping

and you can't
do anything
to stop them

or could
brick up your window
and not breathe

such is the security
of the state
shone through
the prism of personality
of
privacy

creating these
floating rainbows
and algorithms
on the ceiling
in society
in the law
on our minds


*