And Rumours Of Wars

As the black crow calls
And with such foreboding swoops
And lets fall its omen feather
At our feet, no sign from heaven
Could render as sweet this
Blackened quill which
Whittles defeat

For as the aim is followed through
It is the chance to defy the threat
Which summons the true
And truly I 've no oath for you
But this; when soft petal'd spring
Wilts from summer's kiss,
That our ancient pact remain
Under that scalding rain.

The test is certainty with
Conviction. To throw fully thwarted
Against hope into the stark naked sky
This our dream,
Carpe
Carpe Deum.

looking

the moon like an iris
coronas around in two tight circles
the air heavy and sweet
a moist breath.
inside, survivor.

i am on the inside, looking in.

i keep africa in a box in my
living room.

out of the corner of my eye,
a silverback
and his troop
move like streaks in the night.

tar pit

the branches seem to be getting
further and further out of reach,
but the sky is a lovely blue, and the
breeze is fresh and cool.

paper clip

if i could take a paper clip to your hazy grey eye, or is it blue? i can’t tell in this light- this dream’s in black and white, and slip it over the corners of all those days cupped into your vision like water in your hands, unable to contain or remain, are they pages or lives? – i can’t tell or never will, where even the birds have strangled their songs, clipped their own wings, and granite has taken root and spreads across the sky, where you and i both know the breeze is not the same, neither the rains, how they’ve shamed, taking on the city’s tears whose poison floats back and forth from what has spilled between heaven and earth for all these years, i’d mark the pages where you loved best for sun on rainy days.

14

disentangling my self

from the body of romance

arms and legs akimbo

learning to settle, like a visitor

to love’s embassy,

behind the tour guide

who speaks

in mediocre syllables of

the splendour of the mundane

hidden in the mountain

of its own necessity.

i could toss that mountain into the sea

with my one hand tied behind my back.

but would you last?

circumference

try as you may, you'll
not hear a thought
but in listening can know
its presence, ally or foe

out on the circumference,
sight dares a glimpse;
a trajectory is imaginary
until traversed

anyhow, the world is made
of assumptions, the length
and breadth of which
calculate the distance

between reality and
what is real. saying
the divine is not here
does not make it so.

diamond light

after so much pressure,

so much endurance

this vision of divine love

that creates a human being,

that makes a child of a slave,

bestows an inheritance

within a crust of bread.