A Silver-Tinged Day
(Poetic Fragments Under Black Crows and Red Fire)

I. COSMIC SAILING/WINTERWOOD

Mountains shake me from the throat,
from approaching Orion, from stern to bow.
Erstwhile hands, sing broken stirrings to the birds.

I gather cold wood for hot fires,
everyday.

I'm done with the cloud dreams, and I say it aloud:
Now I want truth.

Will you simmer me up some justice & sail away with me
in a scared little boat that's really a wooden shoe?

II.WINTER HYMN

Suspended under a steely sky dropping me into the
arms of evening-time.
I'll whisper summer's sweet secret to the glitter
which paints my cold face.

Turn of the key and its winter whom arrives again
in my house like a ghost coming back.

Yellow & brown fields turn gray, and we are almost there to the white.

A diamond jingles the orange fire which soothes the wayward ghost.

Lullabye me off to one swirling magic moment borne
of the ancient elements which humble a rage untold.

Under howling winter and swirling isobars,

I have returned.

Oh! There are worlds all around us that we cannot see,
won't you come find them with me?

III. LEAVING SADNESS IN THE WOODS

Well, I'm an alchemist,
My constant plight to turn lead into gold.

Alone under shifting creation I call upon you.

A cold sun vibrates its tin-whistle reverberation
through my shocked blood and dines upon my gray matter,
the burn croons me to look homewards,
again.

Crows speak in chants and runes
and I casually touch my hand to hand,
Light a cigarette and sway with oak-light from within.

I dream of what you & I will do tonight,
sputtering through our happy home,
we can find a tender tinderbox of love,
once again, after the moon rises, my Love.

Isn't it wonderful, everyone's left me to my own devices,
and I come shining like a zephyr across these barren fields
anfd into your happy heart
once again, Love.

O, Love!

IV. BRACKISH WATER LINGERINGS

Tribal blood runs past all torturous memory
to find a brother, a sister.

Evening will soon begin to swirl 'round
my ghost of a face
shadowed by hard Sundays & golden eyes.

"Remember to balance the eloquence, m'luv,
Make sure to balance the eloquence wit God's fiery truths."

Yes, Darling, I will.

You see, I threw out the fancy glasses.
Lets drink from wooden bowls until Springtime comes to frighten me again.

Let us taste the Earth, down here in the salty winter
where it pleases God that we look upwards from the dust
of our days, Love!

V. SUNSHADOWS WRAP IT UP

All told,
the world is but an empty winter wood
where we long to dream
in our own cosmic melancholia.

Fire-rimmed afternoon horizons
mark our daily hope,
tho it's always just a sunshadow
through black branches that we chase.