Magic Idealism

Last week it was Faith this time it's Magic.
Or Magical Thinking, a Book Project,

How Misguided is War how Insipid
for Proving what Animals wouldn't?

It is not a Lark but a Mystery.

When Arthur died so did England as Well.

Anything afterward was Epochal

Eulogy must never Suffice , Why?

Accepting Death is Accepting it Soon.

Death is a Syllogism an Errand

But to Live is to Life its Expression.

Just as killing is Rhythm of Dying

Calling it Closer to its Nothingness

Burning the Feet of an Innocent Soul

TREE FRUIT

--Everybody dreams, Jorie Graham

The eye is a bird in search of a branch

vision is a tree in the window

while leaves appear naked they wear the wind

stretched across the vastness of an arch

and swinging in the earth’s head of hair

all intervening air as though solid

palpitates the verge of embodiment

what was once invisible appears there

by its root by its bower and its heart

the tree is no tree alone to itself

but the rustle of its silent breath’s share

a mystery born of inherent power

which would seem to stand yet it flowers

collecting what it hears as it listens

mirrored in the fruit of its existence

*http://www.joriegraham.com/interview_ratzabi

OCEAN-WINGED FEATHER

As the Cloud spreads its Wings made of Ocean

Over the horizon, Mountain-Bouquets--

And the world is beheld in Reflection

The Feathers of the Molecules Unbound

Rain far and Wide within their Thunder

That may not Fall to Earth as yet Ascend

Contented by Wind-Benign Attraction

Beyond and Far-Away as they Wander

Playful Cumulus Bastion of Worry

Growing ever Heavier than Heaven

Pressed against the Ominous Filtered Air

Its Presence Gathers Surface from Its Urn.

A Vehicle, A Vessel, and A Plume

Flies to its Original Source Returns

CLOUD FLOWER

The Clouds in the sky are of such Beauty.

They vary by their size and proportion.

Across the Face of their  Body they Cry

The Tears of the Universe fall Upon

One another are delicately Sheathed

As each to itself is a Mirror Shape

Edges of Infinite Blades cut their Nape

While Profusely they fly as they Feather

I don’t know WHy such Loveliness Ails,

For it becomes what once was a Sail

when it swings from the Rooftop a Ceiling

The Cloud within the Cloud within the Clouds

Consummate the Distance of an Hour.

Mi Alma a Tu Alma

Ay Alma que me renueves te Amo.
Eres tan feliz como Hormiga
Que se Encuentra un Dulce, mi Amor,
profundas rodean las Amigas
El mutuo instinto de las Abejas
Pero hechos pequenitas sin Alas
Me parecen mas Fiel Miel del Oro
Los pedazos de la Eternidad
Caen y se Deshacen Vuelen Nacer
Porque por ser de los Mas Chiquitos
Y tan mas ejemplares criaturas
Descargan el peso y el llanto asi!
Regreso mi Tema Todo Por Mi
Para mi y para mi Mejor Ti.

DOVE TALON

For precious are certainties of nature

as the talons of a Dove are stunning

and adhere to a wire like nothing

squeeze every essence to remain in air

observed by the heartfelt despairs of time

beckoned forward with bread crumbs to allure

and yearning to be free from all its cares

pains of a millennium portend war

through dark scarlet eyes beyond rainbow’s hues

the Dove vanishes weightlessly returns

looks out against the everything-person

an animate being sentient aware

it has since the last line gone off to perch

and when it returns will slice the war.

God Particle

I divine Language as some worship God.

I marvel in its Ascendance and Fall.

I hear entire Symphonies in Sound.

They carry all the Voices of the Wall.

The Chamber of the World inside a Shell.

It never Forgets even a Syllable.

Its Vowels are its Hallows and Shelves of Silk.

A Temple of the Memory of Dawn:

Pure as a Sound without Sound makes a Sound.

It is Constant in Musical Foment.

Never has it Lain Down its Instruments.

But Played on them for Eons Infinite.

Just as every Person is a Being.

As such is the Power of a Feeling.

Pen Mightier than a Weapon: (Old Hat)

When I speak of War, I am a Tyrant

I interrupt others and shout in the street.

My brain conserves what my body wants free.

How can I be of two separate meanings?

I say I speak the Truth and yet I Lie?

For once it is established it Migrates.

It surrounds me or peaks around corners.

An entirely different person.

A shy and meek teacher goes to protests?

A reclusive writer a penchant

My Verses are the Sources of their Poems.

While they move from left to right I return.

IF I don't travel Left there's no Sonnet

This makes as much sense to me as a Gun

Father God Creator

-- For Peace For Eternity & For Love

To God who watches over my failings

who presages everything but hatred

created a whole universe for me

I sacrifice this lamb as my duty

To observe you as I do in my smallness

I perceive as you surround me Great One

command over the hand of history

provide in abundance to every Soul

The innocence as it lost became pure

It was never written until it Was.

Life remains in it as it perishes.

Mercy for the Dutiful whose honor

was earned for the Love of a Maker,

A Creator, A Deus, and A Father.

Heroes and Martyrs

Where the Martyrs and the Heroes go to Death,
 Far off in the Distance, the Silence Embossed
 These were His Eyes that were Cast far Apart.
 There are the Limbs of another Lamb’s Dress.
 IT matters to the Ancients what we See.
 For they have known of it Long Before We--
 Those of us Living Today were their Dreams.
 We vouchsafe their Terror or their Beauty.
 War is not Original nor is New.
 Terrible are our Pains but worse are Theirs
 For if there is a Soul or a Spirit
 Its Aches are as real to it as Ours.
 We are merely the product of that Source.
 The Days of Time Past return in the Hour.

Beauty and Truce

Oh beautiful reason that brings me here.
 That war was abandoned for an hour.
 abundant fields lay ready to flower
 they cease from their vengeance and rage no more
 America, friendly deliverer
 Call for no more of heroes or martyrs
 Bring forward the Olive Branches and Ores
 Let them Grow Older and More Intricate
 No limb lost again No more of horror!
 While many an Interlude holds its Arms,
 The Beloved and The Beloveds in Care
 Grace is only Mystery to Doubters!
 Such as I am One ravaged with Worries
 And Faithless without Spirit of Prayer.

ALLOPHANY

As no Poem to be Written will be Spared

everything comes naked to the wire

the horror is everywhere apparent

yet Peace will prevail for the hour

nears, it approaches at will and bows down

to be broached by the absence of manners

nothing that was written held any sense.

It holds me within a concave sonnet

as Music comes rolling along it rolls

neverending substance of  alto trombone

Play me a song of my diffident tone

Help me to hear myself I am muteness.

But Leave me don’t approach in the Nearness.

For no Lack of War I have done Thisness.

Durge of Alurista

The Durge of Alurista C/S

A friend, a poet calls me Aquaria.

Much of what he says has a truth to it

Speaking his words eat my ear with their tongue.

"You love Humanity but hate humans."

I examined myself for this penchant,

I tried to prove it wasn't true I tried

Yet I failed at altruism worse

What I attempted was pointless as well.

It made no difference at all either.

It is pointless to seek my redemption.

Alu--I agree with you completely

I only differ in the difference.

I hate humanity and humans both.

Neither one of them are worthy of Love.

I decided I would not perish for War.

If I want peace in the world start with me.

I soon saw the vengeance of the Crisis.

Its Big and Mucky Ocean of Violence.

I grew suddenly grateful I am Lonely.

I only need cross through my Dreams Alive.

Cover the Underworld rapid as Verse

Carry across wind in the Hickory

Sing with Sweet Joys the Passing Albatross,

The song of the Owl no longer Allures.

Peace would succumb no matter what it Lost.

That it was Betrayed, Humililated

Its Seeking of Justice is a Malice.

For Pain is a Treasure of Knowledge Gained.

HOT VERSE WITH RAIN

Commies Fear Cappies and Yappies Fear Commas.

They have practically nothing of Virile Youth!

THey grew Older than Time even Stood, Droughts,

I misunderstand I'm confused by Love.

It speaks with an Answer without Reply.

Anxiously it Huddles a Mad Secret

Duplicitous Humanitarians

Out for a Ride off the End of Slut Shames.

If I am a Whore then let it be Shouted.

Unknown hilarious to a Forest

The Clouds are grimacing with Pulchritude.

Their Beauty Immensely Foreholds the Rain.

While younger in the Gutters o Violence.

The Crooked Tame without Peaceful Friendships.

I commit Hit Jobs in Favor of Love.

unlike government provocateur Sin.

I commit crimes of Pride ' s Virtues

Of Peace and Love's Mayhem i am balanced.

I have seen that Vanity Seeks Failure

Prayed at the Touches of Milliseconds

Rise without incident grow in remorse

To seek Peace of Any Soul or Heart.

I carry Flowers of pleasing Ideals

Observe the Passage of Misted Mountains.

And Each Bloom u Selected perfumed

It brought from its Origin foresence.

follow the spirit of the Law of the Letters

No man has ever conquered what I have

If it hasn't conquered itself first

Sound is a participle Hour.

What it needs is Everything Condensed

The passing of Times bitterly Sweet.

And of Beauty Censored and Bound by Blame

greater times with Marti I have Reeped.

I have seen without Seeing an Ocean

A watershed hangs from a Sterling Cloud.

Imprisoned in an Hour Glass it floats.

Hardened with Softening Resolve.

Without Itself Civilization Steers

As Ultimate Destruction Veers and Thrives

When people in LA attack me as a writer.

When cities beat up on small townships.

I stand up as tall as a mountain lion .

I say "I will be innocent the same."

BTW I am not a Poet, Stop.

I am a Dictionary sputting sounds.

Nothing that I say is Original.

2.

I tried Tell you thiss You know that I Did.

The Thatness is not Real as you ARE.

Your Beauty is Legend your Name Glory.

For you are A Hometown sweeter than ANy.

While in the Means Streets it Howls a Grief,

For The Selling of Life for Cheap Money

The excuses, apologies, and demands.

Bishop of Tucson, Sonnet with Octave

April 2, 2014 at 4:21pm

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The robe of the Bishop not flowers

divides at the hem and disappears

beckons to history and to tears

but left without a sound or a care

the ringing of the bells doesn't hear

nor woe of a woman living in fear

onus after onus will appear

while the father looks on from his chair

hasn't been around now for centuries

though succor haphazardly  is earned

like I am and must be a poet

no matter what price I pay for it

though I never asked is inherent

the crown on each finger of anguish

and make subordinate by verses

the forces of spring of kindred spirit

bringing by their annoyance a rhythm

break it whether you know how to or not

and shadows let them fall as they do.

take heed my subject and sonnet listen

Falter when it comes to violent end

toward the original intent bend.

EDITH

I'm neither here nor there alive nor dead

i occupy two different dimensions

red skin and bone pink and spotted

my name causes loss of breath Edith

The gift of war ever peaceful at peace

there are no terrors don't visit on me

i bring the key to the door of truths

i believe would never need evidence

if some such as the meek ringing with verse

even metaphor rushes eaglelly,

a lights to a high point alerted beak

Wings drawn to the trunk and talons secure

first I would listen to the wind what says

why does it would it could it should try

I'm nothing to go magic on geez.

leave me with my self admiration

poor piteous me Shakespeare, nunnery

inhabited by martyrs of errors

I'm too dumb to be credible and so

Look at what passes for a language,.

You get me but pretend not to care

between two points a line to draw

SCHOLASTIC NOUBT Lack of a Zero (Philosophy Parvenus)

I'm not a Believer but a Doubter.
Which is Why I submit to Scholastics.
I cannot Get Over the Sacrifice.
I want to Disprove it, I want to Hack. 
For my Tribes are Immortal Too, a Fact.
I needed nothing from a School what it Lacks. 
But wading in the Pools of the Conscious
Observing the Disputations and Codes
Mastering eavh and every One of Em.

Forsook Reason, Truth, and Philosophy.
As Though Nothing is ENough 2be Disproved
Still Fallacy Adored and Vanity Groans
TO sate a Bear you must cut its Heart Out.
Not leave them partially Able to Doubt.

Beauty Had Gone & Reappeared

Where Beauty had Gone & Reappeared

Where did between two Pools of Vision

Absorb the Meaning of a Prophecy

And holding onto the Breath of a Dream

Perfumes with the Dews of a Memory

That a World Made of its Materials

Grew Open and with the Seasons of Love

Innocence, a Doe-Eyed Fugitive,

Resurfaces in Me as a Source of Verse

Honor Stold from The Thief what had been Lost

Casta-Away, Forsaken, Misunderstood,

Yet ultimately was Vindicated

While its Wealth was Felt Everywhere at Once

Its Never-Ending Cup Over Runneth