I thou

I stood on the bridge after midnight

as the moon’s reflection splintered

and the sky coughed a black snow

dazed again by the silence of winter.

I itself of experience cast language as a plea

flooding rivers in the fifth season of mud.

engorged, gargoyle downspouts mouthed

the golden goblet as it sunk into the sea.

wooden slats swelled to creak underfoot,

rustle Carmel doors of way gasping for breath

in this last moment of moonlight brisk of soot

...no longer worry or contemplate death.

I thou. the die is cast wideout over the I thou

of relation, handled waxy leather weekender

opens to part with the bird of darkened night

onto waves of experience; sky split bender

and harrowed designs cut into the ground

rushed by. circling below in the fallow field

with tight sheaves of mustard yellow bound

between the vines finally let attentions yield,

early blooms browned all along my Rubicon.

embracing imperfections, caressing directions,

winds from every corner folded up the flesh

thin as washi pleats. petals crease bone beacon

spying on myself taking notes, hunting golden ratios,

picking florilegium from that creative morning episode.

steal me away from painful thoughts, some theory,

dodge the notion replacing it with the contrary.

of age…it is quicker to change it than to subdue it!

gathering all surroundings from this tempest,

time to relinquish control. take the aim. imperfections

give the go-ahead, adapt I of it, I thou for your purpose.

patterns give up control break bridge below

mirrors on humanity mirrors reflecting vanity

absorb my being divine as the first winegrower

hardening the art of how to live in crystalline organity.

dissolving clouds, disappearing people on the platform;

a study like philosophy in order to learn how to die

in reveries dancing across the sky. I transform

on the morning light bouncing off the surface; I reunify.