Sunday, March 15, 2015

I Long To Return

It is a moonlit, windy night.
The full orb above has pushed aside the stars
and lazy clouds, backlit  in pale blue seem alive.

I want to return, return to the mountains,
to deep corridors hewn from rock,
halls of wild nights and exquisite beauty,
peaks of ecstasy dropping to rumbling cascades
speckled and glittering like the stars wheeling overhead.

And I wake, and I rise from city slumber
thinking on the pine and madrone,
the oaks and redwoods, the sorrell and moss;
this dust that settles 'round unnerves me.
But new strength speaks to me.
This new dawn sings of the hills,
just as the exhausted dusk
shall sing of valleys long.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Terry Coates

I should be writing a love poem,
a sonnet or an ode to affection.
I can not write about a rent of sorrow.
So I'll light a cigarette
because I don't want the drink
and I'll eat something
because I shouldn't smoke
and I'll deny that vent
calling, "Sit with me. Feel me."

"What? You too?" began a fusion,
a harmony in healing
and a lesson on love,
and the value of vulnerability,
and how simply being is enough,
and if I am present
when incumbent upon me to share me
this.... this love will fill the days
when there's little joy in life.

"Sit with me. Feel me."
Your beauty without vanity
made a difference, Terry Coates.