Sunday, March 20, 2011

Fantastique


Wanning gibbous
but still full of fantastique
in the face of the impossible.


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

under

Under tall palms
in a thirsty parched place
held the last drops of light
between my fingers and my face
in the valley of the sun
a vision undone
held only once
held only once
held only once.

Under the red sandstone
I embraced the moving light
the roving gaze of God
the same as all nights
but different
moment
by moment
by moment.

Under the water
the sounds became one
the souls are shattered
to rejoin and become one
and they cry in unison
for the sun
for the sun.

And in our own sorrow
and between our own pains
we breathe in and breathe out
and breathe in once again
and hold it
and hold it
like we'll hold only once.

Hold it
and hold it
we live only once.