Wooden Rainbows

Something strange lives herein

between the stars and the dirt

still film between water and air

vague assimilation to the parasitic love affair of atmosphere

where what we will is what we are as if the blindness defines it

mornings of hazy patchwork stitched with straight chemical trails

clouds slow move in the sun, distant aircraft navigating

guitars and melodies, hovering

light wishes out, what it can, of the trees

and gives the prism blips of car sheen

constant pressures of the atmosphere condense rock,

condense amidst the striving and the stirring,

against and of the pain, the sameness,

the checkered breath of openness,

a grace, a return, a place

Five hurrahs round the center vein

Shadows of before, of experiences less indifferent

between the waves of discomfort, waves of soothing

jagged rocks erode and calm

tidal motion reminders of lifes pulse in all ways

soar clouds steady swell into greys,

subdue the sun to slight changes in light as it

looks and turns skeletal and settles

toward new routine

monarch butterflies, easy beauty, simple harmonies, elevating humanities

foreground of sky drifts fast

chalk particles float as a mind

forever expanding contracting

reacting and turning

crawling pace of the atmosphere

here to hold hands and witness

slow work of the heat and light

over distance and time

as it passes over

and shares spare golden radiation

amidst the reds and the greens

as birds bless and pass the lazy and lost

where mathematics meets mythologies

where the slope meets the blur

skin of the sky that smooths and defines

drives raw current through

canyons in the great bloodstream,

veins congregating as arteries,

whats one streetlight amidst the immensity?

So here's another steady energy blowing in the wind

etching angles in and from a mind

free to specify, hypothesize,

turning with the wings and the vacuum,

and what's anything else?

the mass as it ever was

anonymous wandering and slow

between the explosions and the afterburn,

between the chemicals and the dust,

here we are, reflecting

dealing with infections, finding conscious tonics,

soaring onward and upward,

because what has motion has healing

what has motion has healing

what has motion has healing

with the wagons and the turning wheels

with the boulders and lined granite,

pulses approach and grow distant as sunsets

into the flicker of a desert sunset,

light green blue yellow pink

where reptiles slither and the wind piles

sand into mountains

once overwhelmed, now with a clearing

an intuition of continuums,

of sunlight in the trees,

holographic spidersilk leaves shadows

on the pine laden earth

a moment to forget

a moment to be forgotten

at ease amidst a mix that settles

in some kind of violence and chaos

as we die and we change

because we're here and it's strange

when a familiar melody returns

what other truth has such grasp?

power and reach of a returning sun, that might as well be eternal

galaxies and fantasies as heaven breathes

birds search perch to perch over plywood shut-in buildings

dark squirrels climb spiral staircases round the bark as huddled figures stay warm in the park

between our lived and unlived houses

between our lived and unlived lives

Works