rev'd 11 15
Revisit your stress and seek
the power that reshapes words.
As you stare into sapphire blue
you open the wide-awake eyes
of a much deeper jewel within.
Look at the one whom love cant help,
the rogue whose wish and click of heels
is washed up sweetly in the locoweed;
lip up the reed on the edge of the ache
or fall through the dark of a broken key.
Stir up the hollows before night falls
and explore the drug in the pollen grains.
A separate flower clings to the skull,
a thunderbolt gum-ball thrown to the dark
that blossoms into sound on a cold tin roof.
Observe the creature caught in the wind,
the hair blown wild by a scatter of ghosts.
Remember the lid, the curse of the crypt,
the look on your face as you let death go
from the long black strands of uncertainty.
Let obsession run deep with dolphins
knowing that things you pull from your depth
may aspect poorly with the rest of the world.
Be glad youre alone, theres no turning back,
no change of heart for an airborne soul.
The light of a lifelong spectrum is you,
exalted of atoms, tattooed, barefoot;
looking for horns once heard in a funk
you kick from a stack of subtle records,
jumped-over grooves of a psychopath.
No man can help, no Biblical lover,
no distant peaks, diaphanous dancers,
coins on a window sill taken by black birds,
midnight fiction or truth disguised,
no down with-it poet with bulging eyes,
No blues era babble, no crusty edge,
no pre-dawn launch, no police manifesto,
nothing subject to your deepest beliefs,
no Hamlet in a parking lot waving a stiletto,
spraying of paint cans to cover the grief,
and none of the five-fold worldly directions,
up-down, left-right, stop-go, in-out and caution
will remove or enhance creative scar-tissue.
The hurt and loss shown by Saturn, set by
the cosmos billions of years in advance,
is yours to accept or soothe on your own
with help at the local psychodrama-rama.