Red Dragon

 

Fire & Brimstone 

At the curb brown leaves turned to mud  

Mixed w/ bits of plastic & cardboard  

Desperate to rest awhile so I can turn  

To whatever comes from the ocean or from the ground

Trouble no doubt tears & drying of tears  

Screams of lust & heaves of sighing  

Locusts like horses w/ stinging tails  

Masses of horses breathing fire & brimstone  

  

The Terrifying Breath  

In the woods unlike the city a flag  

Is easy to see & much more lovely  

Unencumbered by terror & disgust  

The shame & exhaustion that accompanies old age  

And the sight of the dead lying in the street  

If they’d only get up everyone would be impressed  

With a tremendous sigh & lifting of hands  

Having survived the poison & the terrifying breath  

  

Sunlight Thru’ the Window  

With strings & trailing wisps of white  

A strident saxophone enters stage right  

And I’ve always been impressed by a good horn  

Today tho’ I look around for something to follow  

A dragon say or some horny beast  

Impressing us at last to expressions of wonder  

Saxophone riffing along in time  

Sunlight thru’ the window warm on my neck  

  

While the Daffodils Bloom  

A woman in the sky dressed only in sunlight  

Standing on the moon about to give birth  

While the writer watches & the dragon waits  

And we limp along the street w/ our sealed foreheads  

Wishing each other well from a safe distance  

Not nervous out here but somewhat embarrassed  

Hiding our faces while the daffodils bloom  

  

Again Please  

Gray green yellow & purple  

Gossiping birds giddy w/ spring  

And me troubled by the preacher asking Jesus  

Again please come in out of the cold  

I’ll be making dinner soon we  

Have wine & fish & a bowl of rice  

The cute little mocking beast tho’  

With his dragon breath can stay outside 

  

The Quick Moving Sky  

Sirens & wind & the testimony of witnesses  

Greenwood waving for our attention  

And people dying of course while you dream  

Of people dying w/ red noses & turning to coal  

The living are mostly friendly & interested from their distance  

The ones who’ve come out to breathe while they can  

Admiring the flowers & leafy seedlings  

The scent of the hyacinth & the quick moving sky  

  

Cleanliness is Next  

Squirrel over a branch gnawing a nut  

Willow swaying softly red birds tweet  

Curiously I’m relieved in the sunlight something  

Accomplished tomato seedlings & edges  

That gigantic old dragon no longer in the sky  

So don’t get to easy it may be at the door  

Forked tongue flicking & a deal for you  

Cleanliness is next & the washing of doorknobs   

  

Answering the Wind  

Purple Violets & red columbine  

Yellow trees sway & answer the wind  

Living here among the dead composting  

Standing up again again among the living  

A voice like a waterfall following me around  

While the red dragon goes viral killing to survive  

The forest trees sway & answer the wind  

We walk among fields of violets & wonder  

  

Fresh Growth  

Staring out the window there are maple seeds everywhere  

Fresh growth too in the Christmas tree  

And I fallen into lassitude irritation & discomfort  

Growling w/ every sticky detail  

While the tiny horn boasts a lying narrative  

His ill fitted crown slipped to one side  

And while the spokesperson tried to explain  

Someone ran down the hall & crashed out the window  

  

Who I Am/Written on a Stone  

Rain wet road & big maple leaves  

Rippling puddles in a cracked sidewalk  

I’m standing by the window in muted daylight  

Considering the question at the side of the road  

The book of life & the lamb that was slain  

Looking for a name that’s written on a stone  

To put in my pocket so I can carry it along  

To remind me who I am when I have forgotten

 

Rain on the Way 

Look up; there's a lamb standing on the mountain 

At the foot of a forest of tall oak trees 

Atrocities have been done in the towns & in the country 

Along the borders that naturally would mean nothing to anyone 

There's a light that rises & moves toward the gate 

Highlighting the kindness in your troubled forehead 

There's a voice like a waterfall like thunder & mandolins 

With the oak trees singing, rain on the way

 

Signs of Conversation   

The hawk had gone that was standing in sunlight   
A blanket & pillow abandoned in shade   
My sense of affection too was detached   
Passing by the signs of conversation   
Witnessing the mystery of endurance & imposition   
Common tongue & automatic rifles   
While the old whore sat by the river, frailing   
A tune to call back her cruel lovers 

  

Mourning Dove Insistent  

Chirping bird lavender, yellow roses by the statue 

I'm wearing a blanket over my shoulders 

Wanting rest from the nights of explosion & glare 

To get ready for the next round of trouble  

There are many whose names have never been written 

Aching for the normal that brought us thus far 

Covered in insults the mourning dove insists 

And the bees one more time among the flowers 

  

The White Crane Too Has Flown  

Black birds circle the flowering tree  

There's been rain & a damp coolness set in  

I've risen again from my memories of failure  

I'm tired of them, they don't do me any good  

The thunder the lightning the gusting wind  

Are gone & the seven plagues to follow  

Then the silent voice says, come this way  

The white crane too has flown from the river 

  

Rain on the Way   

Look up; there's a lamb standing on the mountain   

At the foot of a forest of tall oak trees   

Atrocities have been done in the towns & in the country   

Along the borders that naturally would mean nothing to anyone   

There's a light that rises & moves toward the gate   

Highlighting the kindness in your troubled forehead   

There's a voice like a waterfall like thunder & mandolins   

With the oak trees singing, rain on the way 

  

Open Your Ears  

Daylilies have bloomed & shoes have been thrown  

Mockingbird notes in bright morning air  

Resting my ears & dissonant mind  

Watch awhile, look & see  

If you’re for prison, to prison you must go  

Cut people down & you will be cut  

Written to open your ears to endure  

Taking a knee is the posture of a servant 

 

Preparing to Ride

 

Empty & Waiting  

The bells began to ring & I looked into the mirror  

Behind me people walking toward the door  

I’m empty & waiting on the change to come  

Some inclination to put me on my feet  

I reach down to pick you up  

And you are me w/ aching shoulders  

Digging & lifting & sorting thru’ files  

Looking for something to bring back the joy  

  

Even Your Son  

I saw the sky turn red & the crow  

Come by from the west w/ the same old story  

The wind is rising & you’ll soon be gone  

Still there is some work to be done  

Generosity to be reciprocated  

Even your son has offered assistance  

Careless cricket chirps on oblivious  

Spider in her web song bird singing  

  

This Given Day  

The morning bird woke & began to sing  

Soon the day would become obvious  

Even to me in my disappointment  

Too slow to be seen I slink thru’ shadows  

Wanting to be generous I keep looking  

For something I might have that I could give you  

Something acceptable on this given day  

Standing in this light & the morning bird singing  

  

Wide Open & Free  

Red magnolia seed shines in the pod  

Cicada & crickets & once again mown lawns  

I despair of tying anything together  

Except for this time to the timeless being  

Existence leads my eye to the sky  

And back in memory to the eyes I have seen  

I long for you now sitting under this tree  

Wishing you well wide open & free  

  

A Blind Man at the Door  

Humans walking wearing clothes  

Synthesized materials against hot flesh  

Tired & waiting to grow tired  

Of everything that once stimulated their minds  

Crowds gather to argue loudly  

Over both sides of an unsubstantiated insinuation  

Then come in or go out to eat blood & frolic  

There’s a blind man at the door & his ears are burning 

  

Best Wishes or A Trail of Ants  

His shoes are dusty & his pants don’t fit  

Grass turning brown sparrows are thirsty  

He doubts that he’ll ever finish his work  

So he sends his best wishes & feels better  

Maybe later he’ll remember how to tell the story  

Find a way to make up for all the tedium  

A soft train whistle a whirring of wheels  

A trail of ants that comes & goes  

  

Preparing to Ride  

We’d had a little rain in the night  

Trees waving sadly w/ knowledge of autumn  

And I’m sad too the red oak fallen  

I’m walking slowly dragging a stick  

Checking the sky for a lingering spirit  

Old friend prepared to ride range on the universe  

Red hair flying & waving a Stetson  

Laughing, come on jimmy, you won’t believe what’s out here  

  

Passing Thru’  

Cool in the shade & the morning light  

Mockingbird beside himself w/ so many tunes  

I’m relaxed now learning to be grateful  

Choices made about occupation – listening  

In gratitude to you who have been kind to me  

Thanking the one who’s beyond me  

Walking the road we all must take  

Passing thru’ I’m just passing thru’ 

  

Mostly Sky  

Here below tree tops & ornate cornices  

In the un-mown lawn surprise crocuses  

I wait for a word a wonder a wisdom  

Small but here among the others  

Working for the renewal & preservation of existence  

Reaching for all that we have in common  

And hoping that we’ll all stand up again  

There’s more sky than anything else  

  

A Sudden Gladness  

Yellow leaves brighten the ground  

Crocuses poking the sky w/ lavender  

A sudden gladness to see & be seen  

Passing thru’ the foyer w/ my hat in my hand  

The special one in me has begun to expect  

Kindness consideration & a satisfactory heft  

Taking on the persona as well as the work  

And the holly bush full of red berries  

  

At the Curb/At the Center  

At the curb began the piling of leaves  

The opening of the canopy of blue  

Like a benefit of joining in on the conversation  

W/ admiration for the ones who are able to speak  

Submitting to each other an honest perspective  

A pleasure that doesn’t depend on ridicule  

And the sky still there in its infinite loop  

Everywhere everyone at the center of the universe