ghost (iv)

cradled in my arms,

smaller--than I thought, and dense

the sharp eyes filmed, the mobile face

still--the strong hands, slack

I can't bear this--I can't bear this stillness

this will--this will, at last

compel strength into my arms

drive air into my lungs

I cannot bear this slumping heaviness

I will rise, now

--holding it in my arms

while the night 

still glistens in my eyes

I will cast it up

deep into the sky--I see clearly

it rises loose-limbed

across the slivered moon

--it will walk strong, along the receding ridge-line

it will walk, eyes sharp in the dark streets 

of the future that has passed

away.

--I stand, smaller than ever

but straight

in the sun, under the trees

stranded

on the corner, among bright streets

meteor-shower

      so many trails across the sky

              my thoughts

              my hopes

                    faith

         such a heedless plummet, across the moon

    my soul, a clatter of stones

      cold and grey

               on the ground

clear

if the wine is thick
and the sky is clear
      why fear tomorrow
 if the words you speak
the words you think
               are clear
       then why close your lips
   if I should dare--for a moment
             to parse them
                     why close your teeth
       on my question
   I don't plan
to stay
       don't care to linger
    for a second
consider
           that the world has spun

moon

in the valley, the moon
dances down the steps laughing
on the edge of the desert
the moon under the pier
snaps its fingers
on the dry plains, it hangs low
casts light disinterestedly
across the broad avenues
over the hills, it gleams
far and high, and lays
itself gleaming down, on the clouds
my eyes are so wide and deep
they swallow it whole
it sinks in their depths
still I--yank it free of the silt
and scrape it free of crickets
and have hung it, for you, on this sheet
--and so I have hopes of my reflection, also.

rabbit

rabbit came down from the moon
crossed my path
dragging the moon-beams behind him
and I--I too
will drag the light
I will shred it on the grass
I will slit it on the leaves
the speckled asphalt
waving slowly
in the wind
my foot-prints
traced in dust

---

I sat on the wall
the moon was closer
so close, to my hand
outstretched, in the silence
I sat, knee-bent, in the dark
alone, in another city
rabbit crossed the dry air
between us
and dragged moon-beams
acros the sidewalk.

june morning.

the milky light
glows on the edge of the clouds
and gently shadows their bottoms
the near hills are green
the far hills are yellow
the sky is blue
and the streets are thick with shadow
              I rolled up my pants, and stepped into the fountain
              then walked across the grass
              carpeted with fallen jacaranda flowers
I walked on the sidewalk
waiting for my legs to dry
I walked home, 

                       squelching slightly
and the earth was hard beneath me
          the squirrels coil, poised--as if something was happening
          bound up the ledges and across the asphalt
          the winter storms drench the eucalyptus
and whip the palm
in summer, the sun burns white-hot
--so unwise to live
bounding, with the grass under your belly
             remember, nevertheless
             that you heard the wind whispering
and the simple joy of running
                   the cold sinks to the bone
                   the heat presses against your lungs
still, you might run
         we, the creatures of every season
                        live on what the wind
 has promised.

grasp

draw me, once more--into your arms

take this--addled one

sealed

within itself

and compel--with your deep

and echoing, ever-moving sweetness

thirst, hunger

make me hunger for you

fall into the clean, dark water

the sky, give me its joyous emptiness

as I rise

to grasp the moon, murmurring

so that I fall among winds

make me--thirsty enough

so that I may course on

howling your name