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"Ain't it funny when it's over, how you think it didn't end?"
                                                            —Anybody Can
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  • Eyes Behind the Sky
ProseBonus Zone

Eyes Behind the Sky

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Old cow in a cold meadow
Morning twilight dew
Sparkling in spider webs
On the long rusty fences
She noses into
The short sweet young grass
Beneath the Manzanita
It is all she needs for now

          *            *            

A five foot swell
Of glittering foamy sea
Wallows low for a moment
Develops a lip
Then peaks high and breaks
Into a thousand mirrors
Edged glass crunching and crackling
In the sudden undertow
Abandoned on the wet sand
Fragments coalesce
Flowing together
Like pools of cool mercury
Into the mirror of Eye
Reflecting blue grinning sky

          *            *                                                                        [return to top]

Then I was flying
The air in my ears
Cold wind tugging on my wings
Dip left and glide down
Swooping over the dark lawns
Finding the dream-strange bedroom
With the little boy asleep
In his footy pajamas
Our silver cord shortening
My wings nestling into
His tiny shoulders
Our dreaming ended

          *            *            

Middle of winter
Tule fog hides the city
Mental sap is thick and sticky
Does not care to flow
To its conclusions
Which bore and annoy
Like small yapping dogs

Slow, squat yellow days
Fast falling twilight
Blue to indigo
Deepening to black

Silent perfumed rain
Drifts through cones of yellow light
Wetting homes and graves alike
Winter dozes through it all

          *            *                                                                        [return to top]

These sweet memories are the gems
In the surge and swell of our lives
Sparkling in the choppy surf
Shining with the radiance of hope
They warm us in the cold times
And sustain us through despair

There is no richer wealth
Not a thing in life so precious
As these recollected moments
Of our younger self
Winking back at us
From the ever-receding past
Gems 'of purest ray serene'

Awake in an elderly morning
Weather-beaten and wan
The ancient gems appear
Under wrinkled eyelids
All that now remains
Of thirty thousand days of life
And much more than enough

          *            *            

In the cool blue fluorescent light
Of exam room number nine
The young white coat
Gives me the old bad news
Minimizing and modifying
So as not to upset his patient
Focus on what is healthy
Not what is diseased
Focus on treatment, not risk
And certainly not mortality

Black numbers on a page
White as my father's face
Flat on his back in the hospital bed
After the ulcer almost killed him

The numbers on the page will change
As my troubled old body will change
The man in the white coat
Will have more to say

          *            *                                                                        [return to top]

I dreamed you into my hand
Shining silver star
Lost in the dark
As all the true moons of this year
Turned from new to full
In a vision at Brigid
I saw you clearly
Awakened happy
And knew that you would find me

Blessed are the believers
For they shall live
To see their dreams come true

Blessed are the innocent
For they shall believe in themselves

Blessed are those
Who find what they have lost

          *            *            

Past our horizon
The great ocean continues
To the other shore

One round orange sun
Drowns in the gray Pacific
His ivory sister rises
Over the eucalyptus
In the fragrant night

At the rim of the koi pool
On a flat gray stone
Lies a dying swallowtail
She flutters and spins
Then stops struggling
Her world is complete
Now she is going away
Soft as a butterfly kiss
Her thin bright spirit takes flight
Her body is still

Goggle-eyed koi blink
As the moonlight startles them
The first ants arrive

          *            *                                                                        [return to top]

Dreams awaken-small blind fish
Swimming in the dark caverns
Underneath our world
They see us clearly
We see them only
As in a mirror
Covered by water

A fish in the river of time
Since remembering was born
I have often fought the current
But never won

And I have let it flow me on
Through the wide gaps and the narrows
The starkly ridged rapids
The smooth pools and churning falls

Time will not tell me
Of 'round the next bend
Or how far from the sea
I might possibly be

And what's behind me
Has already changed
All I have seen and done and been
Cannot by magic come again
Nor by memory's loving grace
Then was the time
That was the place

And when remembering is gone
I shall be the waif of time
Eternity in my guitar
Forever in my glass of wine

          *            *            

Clear light box in my pocket
Magic wooden relic
From thirty-five years ago
Four thousand tiny windows
Opening wider than eyes
On panoramas
Never seen before

A vast and subtle country
Formless and irrational
Yet visible by moonlight
Where shadows cast images
And memories suckle hope
Huge blind black pupils
Staring at ultraviolet
Paintings by Dali
Gone, gone, gone beyond
Totally gone. Hail the goer!

Neither men nor gods
Nor bleating televisions
Can make this light unhappen

          *            *                                                                        [return to top]

Silent swirling lucent fog
Our ocean's exhalation
Flat gray tongue lolling
Just behind the ridge
Sweet breath pouring in salty
Through the canyons
Freshening the summer hills'
Desiccated face
Cold wet sea kisses
For the land's brown skin


A supple silver cat
Slowly disappears
Into the fog's gray kindness
He lived here for many years
Now he's gone away
Life has set him free to roam
Dreaming yesterdays

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