Hunter’s Moon.

i.

at a stroke the accident
of power watching cars
go by everything
committed to the balance
of understanding
communication with the mysteries
of life – whizzz

helpless dreams
on the battlefield of time
the fallen & the slain
shoals of fire fly light
in alchemical equation
an intricate complexity
to surreal music outside

from fresco to pastiche
clouds to stains
down the corridors of time
a poisonous kiss
death in the canvass
music in still life
only the ritual remains

on the waves of moirai
written with even
the unwritten in
sign of the time
in eternal return
in the mirror of origins
in the heart of the labyrinth
time is a harp its music
trapped between mute strings

ii.

autumn & the blackberry’s
dropsy reek of undergrowth
fetid rank dank
as dead winter sets in
sinister with its shadow
a stranger at the door
knocking memory is a place
knocking existence its cage

iii.

time on the shore
where memory laps
in the bay to enter
silhouetted in the door
the fates dance
the dice of chance
& you must embrace
the infinite unresolved face
moon light through the bars
on the ninth wave
the arisen minotaur
eros unbound
under the hunter’s moon

iv.

the body snatcher’s have arrived
perhaps we are all mandarins
don’t you wish you had died before

what havocs remain changes to bring
to the names of things on omniscience’s
timeless wing under scarlet skies

that fall no more from heaven call down
your satellite gaze your helicopter guns
given to your children & tomorrow’s rats

v.

exit way out tomorrow
way out tomorrow exit
distances that fall to fences
what might have been
in place of history's name
another fame nor this
more sacred domain
than the other less profane
in knowledge’s name
but owned & disowned
we fall to our fate’s behest
a phantom ruin
tumultuous on the swell
where the high arches topple
only to arise again

vi.

to aspiring spires
& glittering processions
as if the nakedness
of the day
where the northern niche
glitters dimly glimmering
were less than
the door step speaks
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
skin to skin
never darken me again
is not the lie
mortal love exceeds
immortal love
greater than truth
he gives all within the lie
& exists more than the lie
than to live to die as
his shadow falls
where the sun ends

vii.

there was no path wending
besides the river
& every turning off fraught
in yet another dread
unmarked graves
besides the gypsy camp
small assorted bumps
dry as the winter manure’s
silage smoke
adrift in woody knolls
disseminates a silken net
over a canopy of birds
through the air of his hair
places out of time
await his shadow to haunt them
as the birds sang
& the ghost of the river
calls him down
to where the river never ends
nor ever unwinds.


gift of tongues