As I Softly Go


The old ones understand what is said
The rushing silken whisper as a river stretches to a sea
The young ones see what is shown and given
The smooth bursting shiver of a sunset against white stars

And as I softly go into the night
And as dusk breaks into dust around me
The old and young inside my head go silent.

This time I will not look behind
And this time I will not remember
Or try to understand what has never come before

As I softly go into the night, I stop to wonder
With my eyes I paint the sky in colors I never knew
As I softly go I take those first shaky steps.

As I softly go into the night, it's the world giving birth
To me, herself, or both, a phoenix rising

Even if it didn't matter I would still walk softly over the earth
As I tread into the night against the whiteness of the stars.

And here the old and young speak again,
In a white-water rush of cavern echoes and secrets lost to ages
And here I listen closely, and walk softly,
And here I see the sunrise in a panoramic birth

And I am ready, I am ready, I am ready to softly go
Softly go into that night, against the whiteness of the stars.





Considering Grief and Joy


When I heard
The cat was gone
I think I felt like dying, too.
It wasn't mine, but his
Theirs, and I could feel
Through the hollow phone line
Pain and grief, his, and mine
She was an old cat
Still here, at least we believe
His baby, and at the same time
Mine.

When I heard the child was born
I think I felt like crying, too.
It wasn't mine, but hers
Theirs, and I knew I wanted one.
Uncertain, young, but I could feel
As he held me tight in bed
I still wanted to share
All that powder-soft love,
Their child, and at the same time
Mine.

When I heard him ask the question
When he knelt before me with a ring
There were tears in his eyes, and mine
While we waited for me
To say yes
I think I felt like shouting, too
And I could feel
Through the warm touch of his hands
All the happiness. It was a simple question
His, and at the same time
Mine.





Searching


How could I not miss
And how could I ever forget
This gentle kiss, this passion fire

What gentle plea is this,
What heart cries for its lonely hunter
Like a fox in the woods at night
When the sky is clear and the loon cries
And everything cries without tears

So what tears are left in me
Tears I cannot bottle and save
Could I call my eyes a river
Or my face the sea

Could I stay and wait for you
Or send the heart on a quest
And meet you halfway on the road
Where you have been searching for me.





Untold Answers to an Unknown Question


Flames reach high and twist
Embers stretch toward a dying heaven

Fire-tongue of quick and brazen red
And tarnished sun.

Ancient voices speak in riddles
Like a nightmare that brings comfort
To a lost and lonely child
Just another soul in the gray.

Here from childhood's hour
Where the unseen becomes real
Like dying stars that rage against the night

And we fight.

Trembling in the womb,
We grasp a restless meld of dark and light

And in that final shadow fall
In that single burst of brilliance born,

We still fight...





Proposal In Summer


Come with me and be my love
And live forever in this dream
Sleep with me and be my night
And wake in gentle warmth and light.

Stay with me in thought or form
Reach for me when I'm not there
Let me take from you my love
And give the boundless words inside.

Let me be no nearer
Than a single part of you
And let me speak no louder
Than your own voice in your soul.

And if you'd let me draw from you
All that I would ask
Then let me take that part of you
That once belonged to me.

Come with me and be my love
For endless summer days
Fly with me and be the wind
That holds aloft my wings.





Dialogue


If I say your name, will you ask me why my voice is so soft,
As if I'd be afraid to say it out loud?

I'd already know how you feel, and my name, like your voice,
Is already written in my soul.
Indelible ink.

If I asked why your name means "First beloved son"
What would you answer, if you could,
And would you compare it to mine?

I would say that you are my Eve, even though we're pagan.
Since yours means "God is gracious,"
(Or rather, "the gods are gracious")
I will just say that you are gracious,
And we can be morning and dawn, gracious and first-born.

If I asked what my name will be ten years from now, or five,
What would you say?

I'd assume, In ten years or five,
That my name will be attached to yours
By a hyphen--except when you publish your books.

If I tell you I want you here, now, teleported if you could,
Would you come, and how?

I would steal a Star Trek fantasy, and energize and shimmer
And if I appeared, naked with a pen in my hand
Maybe I could compose a poem out of you.

If I asked you why Maryland is so far away
What would you say?

I would say that my Maryland is always there in your heart,
Just as your New York is, of course, in mine.





One A.M. Interlude


Touch me and tell me I'm not broken.

It's the last night
And there's a plane waiting for you tomorrow.
Five days isn't enough.
There is the silver dagger you gave me.
In the darkness, will you see me take it?
There--the silken, scratched unsheathing.
My arm sweeps--your hand grabs.

Touch me and tell me I'm still whole.

Fingers in my wrist, and you're commanding,
I have to stop. This is when I cry,
Because the point is at your own chest now.
What was it you said?
"My life for yours, my blood shed before yours."

Touch me, and tell me you love me.

Take me outside under the moonlight
And light up your cigarette.
I might take one too. Nerves, you know.

Touch me and hold me in the moonlight.

Dry my tears.
Touch me and let me remember
Who I am when I'm with you.





Among Hollow Shadows


It is winter here and silent
Draped in graying shadows
Of a false and lonely dawn.
We are hollow ones, naked ones,
With voices like brittle ice
Breaking from ancient stone.
We do not expect to live
Any more than die
Existence here, when not linear,
Is much like a snake of myth
Devouring its own tail.

Here we have voices
But deep inside we are hollow
Shadows of whiteness like blindsight
Naked skin flushed with our mothers' milk
And blood within, dark and singing
Like the deep dreams of poets
Or the dying.

Here our eyes see
But never meet
Here we touch
Like reflections of passing thoughts
Slivers of mirrors long broken
There, and there,
And one by one,
We disappear.

This is how the world will end
Silent as winter
Or a sleeping god's dream.





Last Exit Before No Exit


It's a strange story on a strange highway
A lost mind in a lost dream
Filled with streaming lights and quiet whispers.
Imagine standing at Ground Zero
Just across the river stretching toward D.C.
Waiting for the ball to drop, waiting
For what everyone says is world's end.
Imagine taking your lover in your arms
And kissing past midnight
While the sky explodes not with bombs
But with fireworks.
It's a strange affair
On a strange highway
Two lost minds in a shared dream
Breaking eighty-five per hour
On an endless stretch to who knows where
Only seeing no end in sight
Only feeling the fire inside
Passing the last exit before forever
And down and down, hearts on fire
Until we stretch our wings
And fly together.





The Last Time


This is the last time I will wave goodbye
Since I am a ghost boarding the neverwhere train
And you will not see me go
But you are the only one who will watch me leave.

This is the last time the sun will set over me
Since I've decided to dance in the fire
And you will not pull me away
But you are the only one who can dance with me
And I promise not to climb the flame walls too high.

This is the last time I sing of my body
For I only know myself through touch and blind eyes
The last time I looked, the mirror was broken.
But you are the only one who saw this body whole
And you put your hands on me, and closed your eyes
And let me see your vision through your hands.

This is the last time I want for nothing
For I am full, my head of silence and my loins of blood
And several times over there is the pull of the moon
The pull of the shadow of the tide
It reminds me of space, and stars, and you
Deep in the space between my thoughts
Inside the mirror,
Where I and the moon lay waiting.





Thirteen


You stand in front of the mirror beat by age
Your clothes lie in a puddle on the bed.

You look like a flower, budding and bright
Roses and cream and peach-dark fur.
Your hands are small for your age and they move
by themselves, as though knowing, seeking out

That new smell, new touch, a new warmth
that you see unnamed and ancient and familiar.
Your palm against your belly, soft flat curve
Padded with a woman's secrets. And down,

Skin against curling hair coarse and dark,
Your fist between your legs, fingers stroking
Separating, in and out, sliding and slipping

Juices awakened like a ripe bitten fruit
And you close your eyes and still see the mirror girl,
Eyes dark with that knowledge of blood and the moon,

And then you touch a slick finger to your tongue, carefully,
As if predicting the man who would one day follow suite.

On To Page Three: Fragments of the Soul

Back to Deep Thoughts