grounded

the thick, heaped

green

shed it's burden

one morning--when the storms

lit the sky

green, in the night

I saw the herons

winging in droves

over the lake--thawing

clouds come down

to brush the water

oh drifters--I saw the hawks

winging, high

and tight, driving

hard circles

above the freeway

oh hunters--and have seen

the sparrows fluttering

and the crows drifting

between the roofs

and hopping

along the pavement

--yes, I have seen them

hold the sky in their wings

I have seen them,

blurring into the air

when my eyes jelled

and went to water

in my skull

gone to water

my blood to boil

the ice to scratch

my veins

but I will be bone

I will cup the sky

in my head

someday--

I will cut the wind

in my skull

I will cut it to thunder

I will snarl it

into lightning

cracking

--someday

I will break the sky--

and stack it

high

venice

and stares from the Duomo

clutching his skin

--and I am no St. Jerome

when we rise

from the sticky darkness

and walk the blue

streets, catching glimpses

of the monster

from our worst dreams

in the window

and the masks stare

empty-eyed and glittering

from the shelves

surely the carnival twirls

as the people stride

clutching bags and bread

surely it twirls among them

in the wake

of our heavy-footed steps

skirl, you

skirl, I am polishing

myself sharp and planed

for my reflection

grinds me like gravel

tears me in every glance

I will be stone

soon, or perhaps

there is nothing to wear

away, but flesh

so be it--when I am bone

I will trawl the gutters

and corners

and feather myself with what I find

spark

my greedy grasping hands

fingers tingle

arms on fire

I tore at the air

--give me more, more!

you emptiness,

you formless

hanging motion--

give me--

I cup them now

low, in front of me

hold, in my hands

a moment

kindled, on bits

of ten thousand

things, passing

this flicker--

I cannot reach

further,

but the sparks fell

ground from the air

when I grabbed

emptily at the stars

mine--my stars!

mine, dying in the dark

my light this,

no cold-light

no walking, breathing

roiling constellations

the clouds hang on the moon

the smoke from distant battles

far above me

spring lady

I said, once,

what I would be

I wore so many different skins

the crackle of brush

and stood

at the summit, claimed

the wind as my breath

I said I was coyote

and conqueror and shadow

skulking, now rising up the palms

I said I was lover, and poet

and claimed the world as my subject

and caressed it with the lips of my hands

I said I was free

and skirted the lawns, blameless

and hungry, and turned the cans over

I forgot the teeth under my skin

so busy rubbing my fingers

to smooth the air

and draw its trouble and pull

its mouth into smiles

mine too--mine too!

said I was master of my own sharp

bones, and drove them into arcs

said I was dancer

the skin tears

the muscles' tangles

I have strength enough,

only, to raise my head

to the spring in winter

cold lady, hovering on

the pavement

to receive her brightness

on my flapping skin

can only say-- I am

here

kali (iii)

you must be strong

cannot be soft

--to dance with Kali

for she is lush destruction

she is all curving

foothills, sharp and rolling

the thick smell of rot

hanging under

the trailing vines,

rising from

the dark

at the bottom of the cupboard

and within you too

she is fire

rolling thickly

on soft feet

and crackling richly

and the lightning

cracks,

over the velvet

emptiness of her eyes

cannot be wood

--she gnaws it

to pulp and splinters

nor earth

which she treads heavily

and water she devours

you must be steel

for she consumes the living

sharp in your head

and bright in your bones

flashing quickly

and she might roll

along your edges

and roll the fullness

of her lips,

and flash her teeth

bone-white and strong

gobi

what seemed so close

is immeasurably far

the empty air swallows distance

nah, nah--don't grind your skin

on the gravel

don't unstring your legs

running in the dunes

nah--put one hand in your pocket

and hold the harness, steady

feet to the ruts,

zou, zou, zou--zou ba.

memory (ii)

in the hazy, chill of the rain

I was ascending my memories

switch-backing up he slope

until I heard your voice,

behind the crest

and saw the shadow of your hand

and spun on my heel

to the side

I am not ready

for the harsh glow and sweet

shadows of your face

for the bitter sweetness

of such joy

---

under the foam of the moment

something thick and clear

heavy on the tongue

drenches the arm in strength

and warms the soul slowly

on the soft glow of memory

under quicksilver stars, flashing

in the living dark of the sky

you lean back

and rest against the past