We don't come to
these moments
always so gracefully.

The jangle and babble
of idiosyncratic truth
precludes such elegance

more often then not
in direct proportion
to each's
substance,

so that when
the house lights rise
and they come in
to mop up the popcorn and sticky

there's still a self
who sits and blinking
wonders
what the fuck
just happened,

even when there's nothing
particularly tricky
about obvious truth,
sublime grace,

and the whisper
of deep deep me.

_______________

There was a time
not very long ago
where simple joy life cadence
indeed became
the rule of law.

Waking in that dream's faint shadow,
like the burned in image of some Nagasaki victim's
frantic final spark,

the taste and smell
of love's return
breathes through and through
these paper walls and balsa floors,

for everyone
everything
and all there is

in and around
my house
of cards.

__________________

I remember it well.

walking the shore
lying down
in fresh mowed fields
of green grass and frantic bees,

eating and drinking
the moon's embrace

like lovers after arching upward
while their sweat dries
and hands go limp.

_________________


In stillness
that enso
knocks

again and again
to ground
to balance
to sustain

this aching
beating
thriving
heart.

________________

And for that
I am
a very
lucky man.