Ghosts of who we were
Strength made from our yesterdays
Where our memories are blurred

Left to our own devices
We fabricate gracefully
Making truth work harder still

Living longest I can kneel
At the altar then
And no one can deny me

`

your name
still
another thousand
memories fill.

your voice
lifts
clear above chimneys
forever shrill.

your form
cryptic silhouette
of faceless clocks' idyllic
secrets spill.

your gait
saunters
deftness on pointe --
pleuritic thrill.

`

When we check the time,
noticing that check also means stop,
with a clock or watch with hands that go round,
now like seconds,
in the now like minutes
or resonating in the now like hours,
like the Earth around itself,
around the sun,
in the near infinite now of the spiraling Galaxy
We are in and out of time and myth.
Free.

When we read a digital display
of this thing we call time,
the number gets bigger each time you look.
Digital time drags us inexorably to our deaths.
The bugger.

I like a sunrise,
a morning birdsong,

tactile
angel

who lifts
above

flows
through

the water's
veins

buoyant
sprinkle away tempests

for prayers
of midnight's oasis

empathy
resides.

I loved you,
deeply,
madly,
truly...

until I found out
you were human.

Afraid
alone at night
so far from home.......
Buried
.....by darkness
......by isolation
.......in a strange culture
........by hatred unearned

I came to save you
who would now kill me
I came to liberate them
.those who won't even meet my eyes

Yet here I stay
a stalwart against tyranny
..and radicals
...mad anarchists
....false believers

Afraid, brave,confused,alone...steadfast
Soldier

Swan

To lift on high
my carriage of head,
white coat of down
sometimes shed.
Can you know me
this time, this dawn,
know that I’m,
a well swam Swan.

speak not the name
for the dead hear
and stir gentle
in the wake

but raise the oars
soft on hallowed
lake

and gentle
for the shore
make

Here among the magically misled
it would be easy to give in
board the train
pray to the sky for forgiveness

but it's just like me to wonder
how could any man find honor
in the seduction or rape of virgins

The standard answer is
"his ways are not ours my son"
well, they certainly aren't mine.

I won't be raping your daughter
or killing your brother

Compass

Lost and confused
Emotions have run amok
Can't find North
I've reached deadlock

Sunk and perplexed
Feelings are blocked
Can't find East
I've reached gridlock

(chorus)
My compass of morality
Keeps turning and spinning
Offering me
No direction or clarity

(chorus)
My compass of morality
Keeps spinning and turning
Offering me
Nothing but insanity