Dangerous Sailing
The sails whip around
Tatter on the mast
Through our dark night
The wind relentlessly
Groans, tears at the fabric
Of eyes, soul
The cloth of our tolerance
Stretches screaming.
We fray to shreds
Of decency, holes show white
Against the gloom
Our hearts are rags
With scraps blowing
Wildly away
Grinding together
The eddies collect slivers
Of our madness
Into round corners
Until night turns to dawn
Tears exhaust us
We are hollow, shorn
Beaten and now rebuilt.
The awning limp now
Along the mast
We come to rest
In the stillness
The damage is revealed
Through the foggy leaves
Our hands shake to smooth
The fringes of our reason
Our haven has worn
Dangerously, creased
And wrinkled it must be laid
Out to mend laboriously
By hand, stitch by stitch
Until our shrouds will stand
Alone, waiting for the next storm.
Moon Dove
I am not of this planet
I am a hut leaning on the moon
Showered in silver drops
Sky father sleeping on earth mother
Doves settle on my wooden sill at twilight
Indigo fades to black heavens
A river of stars flows to the sea
I watch from the bank as salmon
Splash between Orion’s legs
Let us breathe in the smoke
Of the unspoken
Finish our sentences in the dark
Under dripping trees
We can’t go anywhere until
We unload our burden of pale dreams
Starving in cattle cars
Earth mother has rejected them
They lie open under the sky
I am floating away, my wings
Squeak as, ring-necked, my window
Shatters and I am free of the ground
I don’t belong here in gold—
White cobwebs suit me better
On the cold surface of the moon.
-----------------Dreaming at Dawn
My dreams distressed me so I escaped
Into the dawn, down to the silent marina
Where sailboats and houseboats lay
On the glassy surface and the clouds
Were catching fire under the still gray
Cirrus, the water was aflame with reflected
Red and orange as a lone coot fed on algae
And the carp began to surface farther out.
The cold air stung my hands but I forgot
About the visions of loss and abandonment
That followed me from the still-warm bed
While I watched morning rise out of distant
Peaks and buttes, soon the light was yellow
Another coot came to feed, I put my hands
In my pocket and headed back, passing
The prairie falcon watching from the wire.