unfinished sketch

I walk no more the tangled ways
for those primaeval lanes are lost
gone to time’s pardoned decay
and on my memory’s pyres tossed.

Confederacy of Thought

a wide confederacy of thoughts
from bland indifference to red desire
this circle within which I’m caught
should in turning, verse inspire.

the scattered multitude of dreams
found then lost not full defined
flood my mind as broken streams
to cultivate infertile rhymes

Rising

he rises not to greet the sun
but more to catch the moon
who holds court with him a moment
then is she gone too soon
and too sublime for his poor soul
she has to hide her light
though his desires will glimpse again
her face another night

Lilith

Night bird
untamed
by the hand of man
she holds no court
for his unnatural laws
and commandments
Night bird
primal woman
first sister
obey but yourself
that man may find
his truth
now you have flown.
Night Bird
Eden’s undoing
was not of your art
for you are not artifice
nor folly
that part was played
by part of man.

Shadow Birds (again)

be silent hidden shadow birds
dark winged messengers of strife
your disquiet should not be heard
and cuts my reason as a knife
or claws unseen that holds me prey
to worries which I know not yet
hold fast your songs of woe today
and free me from those cares beset

Expression

dwell not upon the virgin thought
in its birth of innocence
first allow it time to court
the value of experience
a newborn dream in infancy
denies the world it does not know
and should not in the world be free
before it’s had the chance to grow.

Dusk Seductive

the dusk, seductive dusk.
what mischief it plays
with the weight of day’s end
take not to task
its willfulness
in having us believe
this is a day, new conceived
rather than its death.

Passing Moon

we passed the moon
and in that passing
she seemed not oblivious
to our presence
what blessings she could bestow
were given without prayer
without regal fanfare
for though a power forgotten
she herself remembered us
and how we’d once
held her as deity
a goddess keeps such sacrament
long in memory
longer than that of man.

Chalice

a copper chalice
reliquary to be praised
by acolyte lips

A Newborn Ire

Devolving
at least in my thoughts,
where is the passion
that once felt
it could move a mountain
or stop the world?
Now, though, I want to get off,
or so the saying goes,
I recognize still,
what once was
in the languid moments
that fall unexpected
when the lights go out
and the humming ends,
their in the silent night
a newborn ire
is kindled.