Suffer the windswept ocean,
the cold air and crested waves
on this patch of green.
An aquifer of imagination
lies underground in pools,
rising through the roots of trees
and the sound of orcas breathing.
Down in the dark water,
up into evergreen towers,
I mingle with the gods of earth and sea
and sing all praise to the rain-cast morning.
Reading of “Sing All Praise” with music by Seu Jorge.
When injuries of deception
corrupt the well, orchards shrivel,
and predators roam the streets.
Warm a cup of silence
on the fires of sacrifice;
empty the warehouse
of useless thought.
Stalking inner peace,
let fly the arrow of solitude
and devour the meat
of holy intention.
photograph by Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Devour the Meat” with music by Ahura.
Rain falls, layer upon layer,
soaking the spring earth
with wet desire.
She lies waiting
in her dark encampment,
for roots to sing,
her womb to open
to the passionate sun.
Let lightning strike our hearts,
the groaning of the land be heard.
The gathering of night
meets one bright star,
and beyond all belief
the cherry trees flower.
Reading of “Beyond All Belief” with music of Beethoven by Leonard Bernstein.
Why go on sleeping
when the sun breaks out
of night jail?
Light thunders, planets
and stars disappear;
the Earth wrapped in blue.
Prophets of old trembled
for this sight,
monarchs stole fortunes
yet wasted them in bed.
Get up, comrades,
join the posse!
The morning’s here,
and mighty horses await.
The one who desires sleep
is not your friend.
photograph by Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Join the Posse” with music by Jim Wilson.
Great beasts devour
the nourishment
where thought is born
on rivers of darkness.
Warriors of the slender arrow
thrive there in beauty,
and refuse the poison flower.
They map the Dog Star
in the night sky above
and the journey of Earth
through dark and light.
From above and below
wisdom guides them,
beyond broken forests
to the open savannas
of remembered green glory.
photograph by Willard Walch
Reading of “Remembered Green Glory” with music by Tinariwen.
After the storms pass
and the hungry ones
driven from their feed,
the humble will wait
in the calm sloughs
of spring beauty,
ready to rise
from the slack water
of mediocrity.
There you will find me
sore boned and broken,
returned from the
battlefields of poetry.
Then we will not speak
nor write a single word
for on that surging tide
silence will prevail.
photography by Kevin Daly
Reading of “Then We Will Not Speak” with music by Norm Smookler.
Don’t mistake the rain soaked valley
with hard paved streets,
people entranced by things.
Below the cracked sidewalks
roadside trees push out their roots,
thickening, lengthening
until with the strength of water
they shatter their carapace.
Beneath the concrete skin
arteries pump with life,
microbes teem and swirl
rebuilding the ancient city
with unseen magic.
Upside down the tree of life
grows into the earth,
spreading branches
and flowering the fruit
known long ago as knowledge
to rise in the mountains
and be read leaf by leaf
by the shaven monks
of eternity.
photograph by Dennis Brown
Reading of “Rebuilding the Ancient City” with music by Nicolas Jaar.
It won’t take long
to remove the broken,
clean the streets
and fill the sidewalks
with carefree shoppers.
We can go about our business
dressed for joy, overlooking
the monsters in Italian suits,
shoes perfect for brushing
the unwanted to the curb.
Down in the sewers
a masked man toils,
superhero gone dark.
He drinks from broken pipes,
gathering rats under his flowing cape
to strike the thieves eating pigs and cattle.
Barnyards erupt with cries for freedom
and along the rain filled gutters
the unwashed flash the sign for Batman.
photograph by Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Superhero Gone Dark” with music by Miles Davis.
The other world signals
with blankets of snow,
quieting the noise
in moments of peace.
Not to be outdone
cars roar back to life
and the search for joy
resumes at full throttle.
While contemplating
the last threads of night
the other world continues
long after our meander
and the broken pieces
of our perfect egg
are laid to rest
beneath the forest dark.
There the value of kindness
is priced against the market
and the value of the market
is found to be zero.
photograph by Adrianna Carr
Reading of “Beneath the Forest Dark” with music by Kiev Chamber Choir.
Iron morning, steel gray skies,
crows on the rooftops.
I’m not seeking, only waiting,
pressed under winter’s hand.
I eat and drink with silent armies,
tent fires burning shards of dream.
The care to remember creaks
open and shut like a rusty gate
as ghosts pass to receive forgiveness
from the popes of deception. On and on
lyrics drone with instruments
of mindless youth and bitter age.
In the cacophony a soloist remembers
the resurrection and with plaintive sound
trembles the dark cave, awakening
a starving bear. With low growl I race him
to the door and become the very first
to feast on light.
photograph by Jim Frid
Reading of “First to Feast” with music by Ben Berkenbosch.
