TREE ARBOR

The sounds of the morning are muted.

I hear what sounds like air turn to raindrops.

There is a symphony in the soundtrack.

It plays my favorite music the tree bough.

There is a world within the world, all knows,

Of many-colored rhythms in the spring

It mirrors as a forest casts shadows.

That it is aware of itself it knows

What beauty without limit would answer.

By words, “beauty, come forward” grows closer

leaf blooming palms eternally travels

the world it crosses crosses it ever

Rooted with restlessness stored in its feet

with heaven in its heart  arms of the tree.

Satelite CD. Juarez

SATELITE CD. JUAREZ

-- A la Colonia Satelite

I return to Juarez in a moment.

I enter the parchment memory of time.

And I can see under shade of cloud thought

I run without motion toward the sublime.

Next to the immanent feature of sound

arise the aromas of roasted corn

and moistened the heart dripping with raindrops

streams over the surface of my vision

The history the Revolution still groans

Effort as momentous as Creation.

Que Viva Villa Que Viva el honor.

Platicame Algo, di que me quieres.

Porque entre tu y yo Ciudad Juarez

No hay Olvido no hay Distancias

SPIRIT OF THE WORD FORCE

Forceful for there was a Spirit within

It contained more or less everything

that ever mattered or meant what it meant

as to write within a dream of a poem

putting to words what’s not easily said

for a place of new beginnings awaits

where beauty of images and rhymes dawn

almighty was love, love was almighty

which brought out the miracles of being

such as you, here, today, my friend

you are to me what eternity time

as you appear in these words as my eyes

with your head slightly lowered and neck turned

on the words of the same force and purpose

Langston and the Law

And speaking of Langston I come to see

the sardonic absence that derisive

becomes lighthardened ascends from a vise

mutually exclusive hearts come to be

There is no love for a brother of verse

“I Can’t Breathe,” … won’t you let me go for once

Stop harassing me it’s so tedious

Get over to the sidewalk discussion

What do you have against me let’s be clear

I don’t have a Gun.  Don’t shoot. I can’t breathe

I wonder what you would have said and felt

--I come to tell you of the horror you hear

The dance of the law is a pirouette

Of Life and Death Chances don’t you forget it

YOUNG EULOGY

Dead men naked they shall be one, they shall rise again! D.T.

Young in the undertow, strong and certain,

the dense earth recoils within its core

as between the present day and hour

over the soft shores rippled waves return

and power of the creation fire coursed

fused to a stem as  flowers that grow

and parted pain from sorrow when as it flowed

lit in its wick by a flame- lightning force

so gains a purpose the soul a life source

bends toward its origin goes over

to the union of a wholeness, reverts

as death brought together so ominous

love gives no escape at that departure

but honors in its passage its fervor

SO MUCH DEPENDS ON A POEM

So much Depends upon the Letter S

As it circles around its Radius

as the Sounds disappear in a Rattle

Faces its Past in the Letter of F

Breaths that it Loses Recovered then Since

Font is a Serial of Silence Shed

Sound of the Speeds of Imagination

Hollowed by Open Mouthed Vowel Consonant

Beauty is tje Binary of Consent

As Delight the Memory of the Dawn

Awakened, Bequeethed its Details Chiseled

FGHIJKLMNO

PQRS  Because Glazed Rainwater

Glased Rainwater on Red Wheelbarrows   

--To the Use of a Variable Phonetic Instrument Poetic Line.

Geometric but Serial, Red/White

BEAUTY OF LOVE

--beauty is by authority of love

No is but One in reverse and excised.

A numeral for up or down counting.

That is prior to itself in order

It merely appears at the exact time.

A sequence that starts without origin.

--just like a word game played in the abstract

that connects the loose boards of toe tack’s tick

Sticks and square tiles will not move again

If not by coercion or destruction

when it is shattered to pieces so lost

to pick them back up seems impossible

the spirit has seen and heard enough, knows

Life is a precedent of Love’s own will.

When it is not possible, it still will.

INFARTO FLOR

Cultiva Flor Corazon Infarto

Desolado y Radiante Aun

Es la mas Fragil Desalojada

Perpetua La Vida Motor

La ingenieria Implacable Ver

Atraves de Paredes y Postes

En seguido Los Petalos brotan

Alcanzados por su Vuelo, Aerias

Nace del Crepusculario Vapor

Los antecedentes de Las Lluvias

Escultas de Gravedad Absoluto

El Zero punto de la Valores.

La ley de la Vida   la Ley Moral

Entres las dos no hay Variables.

SUN FLAME

The torch flame of the sun strikes at the earth.

Consuming its fire extracts the air

a vacuum appears the clouds hold their breath

and a day made for beauty is filtered

The filament source becomes animate

discerns what it would destroy without thought

and departs from its nature to create

a world for the living a world forethought

While its destruction is delayed a time,

wind and water muting heated extremes

undergoes its temperate hastening

then disarms its potent awakening

For just one touch of the solar exhaust

would incinerate everything at once.

NOTHING CROW

I study Crow who already knows me.

I come with my  trade marks of a human

No wings.  No shining black feathers.  No beak.

While he in his majesty’s soft feathers

Muscular shoulders, mechanic talons,

Brought together in his miniature form

everything to its breaking point, giant

if not by proportion without a flaw,

My size I can’t measure with his though large

For though I am large I’m a Know Nothing

Crow see I am a threat of perception

and won’t let me get closer than closer.

Everything Depends Upon So Much

THE SONNET IS A 14 LINE POEM

WITH TEN EQUAL SOUNDS PER LINE AND ONE RULE

THEY BE ACCENTED OR UNACCENTED

AS WITH MOST THINGS THAT EVERYTHING DEPENDS

UPON

FOR WHY ELSE WOULD THERE BE DIVISIONS IF

NOT TO DISTINGUISH WHAT COMES AND GOES: TIME?

AS IT NEVER DEPARTS YET SAYS GOODBYE

SO MUCH IT SAYS HELLO TO EACH SECOND

AND LIKE A RED WHEELBARROW or WHITE

CHICKEN, IT IS DRAINED OF COLOR THEN TURNS

INTO CRYSTALS OF ITS OWN HOURGLASS
HALTING FOR NOTHING TO BEGIN ANEW

AS THOUGH RHYMING OR NOT RHYMING HAS DEW

IT MEANS NOTHING TO A SONNET AT ALL



To Spring and All, 1923 William Carlos Williams

SWAN SONG

The Swan in the Swan Song is so Precious

Its feathers are lighter than Sound waves push

The voice of a Tenor through Destruction

Flames of the Abyss when forward they swoosh

Captivate with the Glory of Sunsprawls

Lift from Auroras Consumed in NIghtfall

As smoother than Glass the Water’s Surface

Glides as it Severs its own Existence

But not before its Tumult is Unbound

Deep the Lake will drive through the Silent Depth

To insulate the Power that spells Doom

Designed to preserve the Universe Whole

Submits to its Necessary Defeat

And Gathers from the Ramparts the Volume

Of Melody condenses its Poem.

BEAUTY FRUIT

The watch of wakeful hours counts again

the loss and removal of essential things

measured by distance to disappearance

then as truth purchased its survival

shred over centuries another fount

from mantra of ongoing turmoil

and lasting are pains to be endured still

Paramount as peacemakers to be blessed

Beauty is fecund, beauty is artful

But beauty is not a variable

Beauty is a Fulcrum Exponential.

Beauty is Faith Faith is a Principle

And as darkness falls it grows amorphous

Its branches bear its fruits for the purpose

VERSE OF WALES

Wales Wales, Land of my GrandMothers.

My soul must be partly an Island Shore

Where time over epochs anoint Feathers

My heart  which has been spent in a Tower

Yearns for an Ancient Home where there are Droves

Endless and Elegant Moss of Ages

Triumphal Origin, GLory to all Kin.

Answer me, Answer me, ANswer me, Bird?

Why do you Pity me if not for Love?

Yet, what good can you do with your Feathers?

Do you write Verses as I do you Now?

Or are you enslaved by Beauty tol Art?

Birdsong is what to Legends of Arthur?

The Noble, the Epic, the Courteous.

LOVE CROW

Crow caws and to distract and confuse me

Crow plays games with my head and my feelings.

Each time that he does I grow from within

Though he is wiser, kinder, and free

he doesn’t diminish my experience

I am only a destitute human

Yet for Crow I show potential he sings

to demonstrate his knowledge and nature

nothing he does is unnecessary!

Crow only counts what makes sense for saying

his ingredients on voice and wing

beak, talon, feathers, thinking and vision!

Oh crow are you to break me so gentle

and perch closer to me than you would’ve

BROTHER CROW

Crow strikes a pose on the telephone pole.

He straightens his wings sleek as a shadow

exchanges notes with a Crow out of view

Acting as Watch for his brothers below.

when I approach Crow descends on a fence

from where he watches his brothers at work

Three are in formation next to the curb.

Two stand at guard as one raises a fern

From it falls the seed of a palm flower

Rolled from its husk sack of fan-like foliage

Crow beats its beak on it, small, hard, yellow

With all of his brothers watching over

Each bird a Talon and a Talon a bird

One step inside of each Other bird.

HERE IT IS

 I have come to the conclusion of this.

The distance resumes its distance, I wince.

It hurts to be so happy yet it is

Its own form of the same unhappiness

it stirred when deterred or was haphazarded

I am hard headed for the sake of it.

Yet without knowing I commit far worse.

For I know nothing about survival

I know little about overwhelmed love

It presses weight on the soft of the soul

It can’t be reduced in its magnitude.

Try what you do the heart is an anchor

IT seems extremely dangerous and yet

here it comes now into the present tense

TRANSLATING BIRD, Free Verse

Talk about a dreary day.  Got up complained about the heat.

Soon enough it was looking like rain.  Can’t even complain.

Oh how city streets confuse me, most words make no sense, either.

I hear them. I know the definition. And that’s it.  The rest is a guessing

game. “Did the weather change or did I?”  Am I bipolar, do I care?

Would it help to know? I doubt it.  OR why would I ask?

It’s pointless as most things, truly are. No, not spiritually speaking.  THere’s plenty

of that and much more than really necessary.  There is no free will to speak of. This is the killer, to me, it’s both true and false.  As a poet not at all.  As a verse, perhaps, maybe...

What that once meant, I can’t say.  But I understand why a bird awaits first for an unaccented rhyme to start a song.  Light is Sound to a bird, I think.  Bird plays sound against light. I’ll explain it in human: “ this is what a Bird does to show he is a Bird!” . Bird writes Birdsongs not just plays them.

By The next day, Birdsong has evolved.  Now, responds with an accented rhyme. Birds adds to his Song, “I can do it backwards, that’s how a Bird rolls.” By The next observation, Bird won’t have anything to say over the accent. Bird is emphasizing pitch.  The way that the sounds fall from the Nest!  Bird says in Human, “I live my life as a Bird up there’s the nest.---Listen, and Watch.”

Over time, this continues. .Bird had added a purr to his chirp.  Next, bird mocked his echo.

Unchanging AND Endless

#IF you ask me what a bird would say to a Poet:  Free verse is the union of all freer verse.

GALWAY BAY

When then Galway with its Sweet Song Rain

Drinks up the Thirst of an Ocean and Shines

Dressing every Cloud with Scented Listens

THat Swab away the Sound of Uncertains

WHisper in the Darkness of a Shadow

THe Bay in the Shore of that Ancient Time

Ticks with a Steady Heartbeat as it Chimes

Water per Eyesful the Tears of Dropped Pearls

Circumference is a Universe in Wholes

Grown miniature yet Grander than its SIze

How came it here?  Where did Originate?

THat I both know and don’t know it at Once

Memory of Mystery Never Known

As Yet without a Source is still a Home