13 : Princess and Colborne

I can see it from my window,
the time frame
of old conversations.  We all lived
within walking distance of each other,
so we walked.

3 A.M.  The college parties rage on,
hundreds of voices leaking through,
songs picked out of the summer air.

We sit in our patio chairs, smoking, talking
about the day
no thought of a noise complaint.
We were there once.

Still, when everyone else is asleep
those voices come through
over time

We were there once,
before choices, before distance,
talking sometimes until the sunrise,
writing our histories

our essences rebuilt
and knowing we would return.

12 : (interval #2)

no manifestation without polarization
drawing down the moon Drawing down the sun

pulling against the archetypes.
This thought form still generates heat.

this circle breathes within  this circle breathes within  this circle breathes within
the circle is gone:  breathes within—how have I
(how have I weakened?)

 

(Invoking
the energy shifts into the dream
where amongst the fear of my friends
I touched your hand.

What do you contain)
the glass shattered, I know you are here
What does the circle contain)

Has it been a year and a day
I did not forget
                                                         i brushed the dust off the book and opened it

I packed for the journey,
runes & tea leaves

to the river where I cast them in the warmth of the sun
energy of Nature in the silence.

The circle breathes within
you are always here

11 : Characteristics

Once again, the shadow crosses my face,
distorted time flowing out of the air
and in the front door.

These are the seeds of youth
that have yet to germinate,
the practice, the art.
I have found the old artifacts
the tools of the trade,
wrapped in the dust of logic.

My hand is steady.
Synapses breathe, capturing energy.

The blood sings again to carry this,
and I know I have not forgotten this language
though I rarely speak it,

the shadow a message,
returns me.

10 : Ritual (storm rotation)

After the heat,
the rain dissipates us,
the water surrounding.

Lightning
exploding, burning air
becomes secondary,

thunder a simple shock wave
rolls around and through.

This is a secret.

The downpour drapes around you
and you no longer feel naked
clothed in the violence of nature.

9 : Departure

In the next room
are impassable discussions.

These stories are the words
harpers were made of
in old times

and these are the new times.

And then, alter time.
Photographs hidden in dust
the fascination
the discovery of time
that can’t be remembered,

We left them there. We departed
an age ago
evidence of expressions
humanism
what you call the old times.

Sepia, infinitely small
section of time captured

We were the harpers
sitting around a fire
with an audience the size of
a community,

our stories a discussion.

8 : (interval #1)

The dream,
a needle
penetrates through glass

permeable

cold enough
for second sound to appear

At a temperature of 1.8 K
the temperature wave propagates
at approximately 20 m/s

Does this touch
the delta frequency
quiet sleep

somnolence touches me briefly
the needle
passes through an open eye

When I woke up,
I was touching the glass gently
the cold connecting through my fingers

awakening

7 : Eyewall

The winds of change
have spoken. Clouds
have passed over, revealing stars
that do not change, only revolve.

In the mind, a feeling
unsettled
disturbed. These can be positive.

Questions could be asked,
without resolve.
Somewhere
there is a leap of faith not taken,
the path altering
like a brief hallucination,
impassable by moments,
and then stable.

It is disquieting
the sudden need to go outside,
to disembark, stabilize.
This can be a precipice,
being held back only by the heels
before going over.

In the mind’s eye
the storm has resided overhead
just at the edge of the land.
Standing in the calm,
watching the eyewall
unmoving, threatening, offshore.

This change could be positive.
The unsettled feeling in the mind
the result of not knowing,

a place in the path
where all one can do is wait.

6 : Economics

We’re not a part of this, we’re not affected.
It’s easy to say this from the inside.

Bus conversations overheard
are still about mundane things
like weather.
Last vestige of snow left on the ground.
Spring is coming.
We’ll soon be able to set the lawn chairs up
in the backyard and relax.

The television says economy, economy,
economy
like a brick’s gone through the window.

Perhaps it has, but from here
the cars are still mobile, not burning
at the end of some apocalyptic road.

Nature is returning to this part of the world,
and the aged houses are saying we’ve seen all this
before
like optimists.  This isn’t news.
The news requires panic.

It’s impossible to follow suit.
The ivy is still green
growing up to the roof of the house,
the last bit of snow melting away
and becoming Spring

and Nature is already sitting
in a lawn chair
beginning to relax.

5 : We are leaving

We are leaving
for the dirt-covered trail, dead leaves
a canopy of flickering sunlight.

Pale heat crashes through
breeze sends it over the trees.

This is the mellow shape of things,
a time for communion,
still water breaking gently
three feet down
where the side of the path falls away.

This is the answer,
only that you do not feel the heat
unless you’re placing yourself in its path.

4 : Collecting the seasons

Intimacy displays its feathers
of regret proudly,
the dream continues to evolve
in the deepest silence.

We return to the source
like the old souls, clothed in black
undetectable at night

resonant frequencies within synapses
unable to explain.

The paths we choose for ourselves.
Who knew, out of our child minds
we could debate the how of it,
the blending of the colours
of these dreams and realities

Now, in conversation
these connections are still made
under the surface,

and out of some dark corner of our homes
the old, single thought lies adrift.