Welcome to Summer
Myth-laced lunar light,
infuse long summer days
with magic and romance
a’glee in joyous play.
Wild fantasy takes flight
above earth’s rule-bound maze.
Passionate heat-stirred night awaits.
Waves of windblown flowers blooming
Scent enlivens sense to peak
Warm, warm breeze and rivers flowing
Endless miles running free
Let summer magick build up steam,
simmer into thrills supreme
‘Tis season raised to rejuvenate
So play on …
Soft Summer night.
Far drift of stars; open car-barren road.
Kicking up bits of stone and dust.
I could be anyone.
I could start here.
What is beginning?
Aware of the first rays,
Summer is harsh on
fragile skin, newly opened eyes.
They catch on eager forays,
studies in mimicry;
simple truth hidden in proverbs,
squalid temporal cages, punishing
rewards that bind and itch.
Beginnings are not the point.
They are portals, not the
the sand so burning insubstantial,
the forest enchanted in
eider and lace.
Beginnings never warn of battle
flame or drunken dares.
They only promise vague
adventure, valiant possibilities.
A brief eternity before dawn,
supplicating the night sky for
solace, this soft moment before,
an unmarked road
to ride along home.
Like a warm evening on the beach, all woozy from sunshine.
Tingle of sea breeze, that ocean scent of the wild.
As the sun recedes, cooling, refreshing, yet still a lazy summer eve.
Oh that luscious feeling, that overflow of quiet liberty.
In and out of drowsy reverie, so gently washing through pools, reservoirs
Like languid balmy breath caressing.
We give what we can; we take what we need.
Marching, in orderly fashion.
Or beatifically skipping to a sacred beat.
The horizon shifts through daily duties, nightly prayers.
We take what we can. We give.
Without edict, without rational equation,
we give each outward breath, and take in what is given.
Like happy inspiration, song springs from memory to lip,
moves the fortunate mind into momentary ecstasy of music.
Moments meant to linger, to haunt as loving ghostly guardian.
Wrapped in ethereal glow of grace’s reward.
Summoning iridescent spirits to play joyfully,
Like the words we tell ourselves to bring us peace.
Joy to the Season
The Moon is adrift in the wind above
our sheltering craft in the sea
and all the world of Summer is ours
to ride the fire, toast to the stars
sway with warm desire, open our hearts
create a Summer of Love
Celebration waves the streets, with drums,
lucid bells, a call to play
Carnival cheer brings heat to flame
Chants blend to sing with drinks and games
Grand gestures expand, to applaud such a day
fueled by smiling Sun
Of course you come to listen.
Intoned to woo your fascination,
whispered primal code from lucid crystal climes.
Warmly floating on cool jazz,
intimate, intoxicating garden party
‘midst apparitions of simpler time.
Back from the rabbit hole.
Back from New York City, Boston,
Detroit, LA …
from yet another backstabbing
Fog dense morning walk
along a rocky roadside,
unruly hair, distant eyes.
song singing hallelujahs,
place of play, haunted
by pretty memories
tinged gold in sunshine.
fairytales brought back from sleep.
Sprinting across that abyss,
goblin mouths, hungry ghosts.
No longer keeper of my brethren’s sorrows,
I don mischievous costume,
stomp out power, glory,
love gentle as a summer evening’s rain.
dandelions and clover,
bounty of Earth blooms with elfin escapades.
Listless children whine.
“Why does no one let us rise?”
A world of sullen children
overdue for naps and coddling,
blueberry jam at teatime.
delectable, potent, wise
in the ways of demons,
oracles, gypsy Queens,
ascend into sacred muse-ways.
Every day a new day,
standing ground against a grinding
down to profit’s dust.
It can’t be a secret
if nobody’s listening.
places in your mind
Each bounding leap more distant.
Inviting opulence, opening vistas
Three Penny Opera and Grateful Dead:
What They Mean to Me
I was listening,
under a shadetree on a summer evening,
to the morals of our time as displayed
in popular music,
and thinking of the many tiny travesties
of personal moments all around me.
The seatide ebbing/flowing of the music
more than hypnotized
as I watched people flowing
through an inner newsreel
of pride and misery.
People marching in various uniforms
to a beat of pride and progress in the marketplace
and war zones;
people marching or being trampled or
sniping from the rooftops
all in rhythm.
And a friend said to me
on a starlit evening,
“It’s so hard to know anymore what to do.”
A Dog Carrying a Frisbee Is a Very Nice Thing
Sunny Sunday, summertime seaside breezes
Bicyclists, joggers, old men asleep on benches
Rollerskaters, sunbathers, and sailboaters
A dog carrying a frisbee is a very nice thing
As are the shade trees and greenery
and rippling blue river
under a blue and white sky
overlooking Cambridge, MA.
I tell you this to let you know
There sometimes is a perfect day.
The Longest Day
Earth of sea and land and air
ignited into opportunistic luminance
by her mother star.
Energy for you and me to
burst into bloom
flit fly in
busy devious thievery
Surging through veils,
storms breathe ice, sand,
the fire of prophecy,
the flood of repentance.
bequeaths rage, rampage,
It’s not winter here, nuclear quiet;
all’s right for the longest of nights.
The eternal balance:
rocks, meteors, dark
metaphors of the righteous,
pilgrims past the age of bowing to scriptures.
Tomorrow, the Sun will rise.
The Earth will revolve.
Life will adjust, compromise.
After the workday, we celebrate
potent evening light.
with natural rhythms.
Shadow to light
with greater cycles.
Time through space.
Do ages collide?
Do stars expand
into tragic brilliance?
Do simple little twists
change worlds and consciousness?
Very early in the day,
just beyond the penumbra
of night, as magic
clashes with reason:
That color so enriches
Air giving way to water.
Arid emptiness anticipates days filled with
emotional sailing on vast
turbulent (and/or) calming seas.
The desert is so fragrant
exotic, mystically inviting.
Dusk whirls of wilding sands,
The desert in forms, sculpts,
creates crannies of secret
delight throughout my imagination.
A no-man’s land where cognition
can hear inspiration
blow through, encompassing
I will not leave the desert.
I will merge with its becoming,
allow imminent floods
to rise into thirsty pores
rendering sand squishy, unsettling
into ocean floor.
Ride with me.
Open raft beneath firmament,
unguided, unplanned, unafraid.
Changing winds have always been my home.
Enclosed against starlight.
keep close their
A touch, a brush,
Awake in the dream,
breathing cool greens,
the magic of life.
Trail of effervescent Mercury’s abandon.
plays upon seasoned winds — Quicksilver surf.
Exhale old air’s detritus.
Inhale and whoosh,
under sea-change brew.
Sentimental, far from gentle,
whirlwinds gasp; ambitions,
caught up in flying breeze.
Blown out to wailing ocean,
forgotten gills respond —
Let the games begin.
Let the long luxurious summer days begin.
Let us harken back to when
our schooldays’ end
would send our thoughts adrift through
of daisies and daffodils;
sandlot games & swimming holes and
endless flights for fantasy’s fulfillment.
And let us not forget the nights.
The hot & sticky summer city nights
that send us to the streets in colorful array
like firefly lights.
Joking & drinking and starting sudden fights
’til the thunder rumbles through and blessed
cooling rain relieves hot-headed strife.
As the heat-soaked summer skies once more descend,
let us drift down sleepy sun-drenched streams
till summer ends . . . .
New American Century
After Shock and Awe
booms transitional time
We bombed in Baghdad
now fight over meanings and means
to clean up this mess
Let common folk suffer,
pay daft debts of hubris
compounded and raised.
Buttressed by destruction
against the rest of the world,
triumph of the crazed.
Mystery mists of history holy lightening heightening sky.
Early pinks ascend from eerie violets.
Sun’s lifting eye twinkles like a happy kitten,
tummy exposed for adoration.
Omens, prophecy, hope for enduring happy returns,
quests beyond horizons now observed.
(without gravity, how can we fall … or love?)
Aching for stars, planets, infinite,
silent assent that means all is promised.
I touch a cosmic peak,
breathless at such altitude.
Sagittarius Full Moon
The many faces of illusive Moon
reflect starlight in her artful glide,
entrance the sky.
My mortal eyes want to believe
gleaming quests, brave truths, romantic rhymes.
Tell me, hoary elders,
rejuvenated for your fling
in sacred moonlight,
swaying from your ivied castles
to mystic mountain
tell me why I should give credence
to magic codes of
spells and sacrifice.
Is the wisdom of the ages
My species may be blind to
but we mutate,
find and define
new ways to see.
Fixed space is far too limiting
Dear Sister Moon, separate entity
from birth, entwined destiny
with Mother Earth,
patterns re-cycling reveal
what we regard to be real
is but reflection.
Face to face to face, fluid
I didn’t know the fish would die
flapping on sun-warmed metal.
Peacefully domestic afternoon.
Children discover death
and other worlds.
Sitting by the well
to draw inspiration.
Spinning yarn, weaving words.
Dusty work. Flakes of skin
embed the fabric.
Struggling through childhood,
the tales get twisted.
Little boys & little girls
We think we know our place,
from the games we’re given,
the words we’ve learned to imitate,
rhymes, reasons, rituals.
Imbibing passion body to body,
we awaken rules of blame.
The woman tempts.
The hero conquers.
The sad boy desires a
stomping upon his heart to
start the flow of real blood,
Out of water, out of earth,
out of air,
flopping upon some inert surface
the tale mechanistically repeats.
What world can we discover
I’ve been through this before,
birds chirping, infiltrate my airspace,
awake when I should be long oblivious.
Good girls dream of princes,
subliminal desire to be slain
by love piercing enshrined virtue.
Gold hued birds in crystal cages
incant witchery for food —
hair of newt, spleen of worm; smoky
syllables induce pleasure.
Warm hearts beat together, no bond
Lore is explicit; no crime to commit.
Vexed, inconvenienced by the regular
comings and goings of
the natural world.
Birds of a feather exchange their
It is I who should be sleeping,
conjuring brave new worlds;
ambient noise translated into
Rambling through fields of daisies in spring.
Hoping to find a new feeling.
Coming to terms with what each moment brings.
I’m making a bargain with time.
Not getting tired of running around.
But wanting to know where I’m going.
Trying to measure my meaning in sound.
Trying to keep it in rhyme.
Hoping to answer a call to my heart.
Quest for passionate focus.
Adrenalin pushing, I’m ready to start.
Making a bargain with time.
FAE OPERA (excerpt)
A joyous encounter with life
A joyous encounter called my life
I’ve swung from trees in tropical climes
And swum the seas of paradise
And learned to breathe upon the earth
You’ve got to see me; you’ve got to listen
to these wonders that I’ve learned
Traveling, traveling a hard-stoned road
Working my legs, my back, carrying my load
Journeying for countless years
Seeking out the sea of tears
Eyes bound behind innocent’s lace veil
I break my trail
(As in my mind my song unwinds my tale)
A marvelous secret, a hidden treasure trove
While unicorns play harpsichord
within a blossomed grove
A newborn child with something wild that
plays in rainbowed eyes
Has been declared of druid laird
Born to hypnotize
Been borne to hypnotize
Reward all the heathen with sleep
And dreaming dreams as such who waken
Find their very core earthshaken
Thus made to believe in possibilities
They set their sites, reshaping all reality
And of them they’ve begotten me.
Sound the magic pipes of Pan
All who hear may understand
The fluid waif who walks the land
Spawn of Diana’s fling
With the clove-foot forest king
Vibrate to music, music, music
In every cell of living fluid
‘Tis alright to be a druid
Of forest borne to roam through future lands
Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me
Become my hands.
Floating, wandering, restless shades
Call me to respond.
I rode a mountain faire
Picked daisies for my hair
Learned to know the name of every weed
I dwelt the night alone
In a crevice made of stone
And never thought of what I next would need
I dreamt of castles bold
And the language of the Olde
And struggled to bring my dreams alive
And whistled as I rode
The songs I’d oft been told
At parties seen
In waking dream
Another place and time
Another tune, another rhyme
And I’d sit beside my campfire
And gaze into the flames
And yearn of learning other places,
Atune to other names
Traveling over other lands,
Seeking secrets, other plans
Or just remembering another song
For the secret of each soul is in its song.
Blazing all around
Miles from bare ground
Twisting twig upon an aery sea.
Whatcha gonna say
Songbird, whistle your wisdom to me.
A maid of golden wings
In lullabying sings
Of white sails racing in the wind.
No two are e’re the same
Of the tales she can name
Oh, nightingale — take me in!
Blazing all around
Miles from bare ground
Journeying upon a vessel rare
Silently I sing
To hold remembering
Magic castles in the air.