The
Necromancer [back]
The Necromancer took
my heart
not with Don Juan flair
not with traps designed to ensnare
He leaked his way in through my ear
with sighs overheated by his desert sun
with warmth to color my season of gray
The Necromancer's
voice
shimmers like a shivering tear
shimmers with meaning at odds with his words
He says see you later
and it sounds like I love you
and I'll always be here
The Necromancer looks
through me
and I have no secrets
and I somehow don't care
He looks up from a faraway thought
returning to burn the shroud of my sleep
returning to shake my every belief
The Necromancer doesn't
leave
when the moon glows ghostly on fallen leaves
when the earth reeks
dankly under the trees
He settles in for a long season's wait
he swivels round slowly and stops my breath
The Necromancer has
my heart
and he ties the strings to the tune of his song
and he keeps his distance
but he keeps them strong
He moves like a shadow around too solid flesh
he is the dream when I'm waking and the ending of sleep
Fly
if you dare [back]
I saw him through
a window
so small he was barely there
a sparkle in my mind's eye
a jewel without compare
in a trance he would fly with eagles
with a glance transport through air
He reached out to me and he whispered
You can fly if dare
But I feel so alone
without you
I said by way of reply
it's only when you're beside me
that I become the butterfly
that's when my powers gather
only then I am truly aware
I watched his lips as he whispered
You can fly if you dare
With his hand he
took hold of my hand
he showed me where to begin
a cloud shrouded staircase
with the paving stones worn thin
no need to fear the heights
you're free of every care
he urged me on with his whisper
you can fly if you dare
As I drew to the
passage
a sharp draft pushed at my hair
His shadow closed in behind me
I could feel him everywhere
I threaded my way through the doorway
and blinked in the morning glare
as the wind caught my wings he whispered
fly if you dare....
the
Daughter of the Moon [back]
the old man sits
behind the wall
as life unfolds in the crystal ball
the doors swing open one by one
as the drummer taps on his life-sized drum
the first one out
is the Alchemist
who can see the colors that the music kissed
tapping and tapping as the prism sprays
white tones into a thousand shades
then the Wordsmith
takes a bow
and shoots as far as the words will go
from inside out, to forward back
sharp as steel in the attack
and then the Dreamer
strolls along
like he's listening to an inner song
then his eyes catch the light just so
and a future memory fires an inner glow
the Wordsmith guards
the Tower
through the witching hours
but still the Dreamer can hear the tune
a whisper of the Daughter of the Moon
the Dreamer feels
the aching
in his sleep and waking
the Wordsmith and the Alchemist
know the Dreamer can't resist
Spinning and weaving,
filling the air
the Dreamer singing as if she were there
colors rising as the words unfold
a three part gift for her to hold
the Alchemist and
Wordsmith
out of the daydream into the myth
and the Dreamer in the afternoon
awaits the Daughter of the Moon
There's
a rose [back]
There's a rose in
the
middle of silence
that makes me think
of the pull of the
bottom lip as you separate
from a kiss
In the space between
thrill
and trepidation
Your heart leaping forward
with a sensation
that's new though you've
known it so many times before
Sometimes it's an
unexpected
chord that takes you there
or was it the blink of
an unfamiliar eye
and then the veneer peels away
so carefully built layer on layer
so everything would roll off
Gone just like that
and you just pour right out
And the moments hang
in a cloud
of temple incense
Handed over by silent monks
And you find the profound
in a breath
And they make tea
in the
center of the room
on a stove that also warms the air
Funny how the commonplace
spins gracefully into a prayer
where every motion has a purpose
and the very curve of a finger
celebrates that we're here
I'm
searching.... [back]
I'm searching for
just the right words
a transforming tide
in a bookstore of meanings, none are right
I want the liquid fire
I have seen in your eyes
What did he know
about love anyway
his lips could never form the words
he was so confused
mistaken in what he felt
and yet...didn't he almost get to it
in the end
when it was too late
and he understood that his mistake
was to hesitate
I'm trapping lightning in a jar
a genie's spellbound bottle
swept up on the beach of memory
with the midnight tide
I, like you, prefer the night
And he? He waits
like the statues of Easter Island
all of them facing the sea
all huge and godlike-
Though they are made of stone
he's not
and he watches the rolling tide
aware that in life there are cycles
coming around all in good time
until the shore is swept clean again
until new hollows form in the wet sand
waiting for life to fill them in
I'm wishing you to
be there
when the horizon hugs the night
You and I are free there
we can stretch and touch and wrap around
until the clutter of daybreak cuts us apart
If you ever look
for me
If you ever think I'm gone
In the darkness find my shadow
Stretch out, open up your mind
I'm listening for your glittering wave
White
[back]
White
burning hot and pure
at the core
but that isn't our first view
What is the color
of alone
like the tree in the forest
that no one hears fall
that's where the quest
is engaged
White
like each layer
of the onion skin
peel one away
another lies within
What is the color
of fear
of wanting to remove the husk
but having been dulled by it
how to adjust
once you've thrown it off
White is the lotus
flower
serene afloat on the surface
profound its need for nourishment
hollow the tube that draws it
distill the essence clear from sediment
What is the color
of so close there
of reaching as if dreamlike
stretching beyond despair
letting ivy crush the brittle brick
White petals
huge like magnolia's children
fragrant lying all unstrung
let the mystery transport each
individually back to the bud
White picked up
by the hot breath of maybe
like puzzle pieces in brand new form
gathered up as a possibility
as a bud that would be reborn
White is the color
of hope
burning pure and bright
at the core
When
he came to stay [back]
He was alone, hard
as a stone,
and no one would ever break him
He was a bird in flight, no land in sight
and the distance didn't scare him
I hovered by the
flame like it was a game
but I never let it burn me
I had a siren song, but never very strong
and ships would not approach me
We crossed inside
a void
darker than the darkest cavern
wider than an ocean trench
the void drew us without intention
it pulled us to itself
in each of us a corner
where it set up its nest
I could feel the
change, quiet and strange
and oh so unexpected
I could feel the black as it began to crack
like an egg with new life breaking
He could feel the
same as he became
overfilled with longing
still the black it grew into something new
like the earth torn by lightning
Now we live inside
the darkness that connects us
every thought, a ship that floats
back and forth between us
though the moon and sky offer their delights
nothing new or old will match the day
when he came to stay
Space
Age Romantics [back]
Somewhere between
heaven and hell,
not a god, not devil.
A bit of pious spirit
and quite a lot of rebel.
Torn between future and past,
neither young or weary
Making do with living
in an era without spirit.
Space age Romantics
in a world of glass and chrome
Riding a steed made
out of steel,
modern day Crusaders.
Living with a passion
as if there is no later.
Holding a shield made out of hope
keeping back the darkness.
Living in awareness
connected by transcendence
Space age Romantics
searching for a home
Somewhere between
vision and fear,
bravery and lunacy.
In a world of yes and no
is there a place for maybe?
Space age Romantics
Leaping across the
chasm of time,
sparks from all ages meet and combine.
The purple and holy, the speaking with drums,
the theories of Newton, the music of Brahms,
the crucifixtion, the clap of one hand,
the shoulders of giants upon which we stand.
Lead
to gold [back]
I laid out the pieces
one by one bare upon the table
I asked him to examine them and help me to transform them
He shook his head
and smiled before explaining
"What you think is made of lead is only in the viewing"
"Under a different light, you'll see the metal shining"
I collected the bits
and pieces, put them back and waited
The moon grew and shrank, the wind gusted and grew silent
Then I took the parts
and lovingly exposed them
and saw the miracle his magic words had tenderly unfrozen
For there, laid out, for all the world to see if they chose it
was not the lead, soft and dull, but gold, brightly blazing
I turned to thank
him for his gift but he just stood there smiling
swirling colors into my head, touching my heart and laughing
Some gaze on beauty
and see a stone
some look at a stone and touch God
It's
Not the Candle [back]
It's not the candle
that gives light
but the flame.
It's not the sword
that gives might
or acclaim.
There is no music frozen
in the keys under the lid.
Traveling without moving
you'll find where it's been hid.
I want you to show
me
Show me what I'm missing
It's not the daylight
that needs lighting
but the dark.
It's not the brain
that's exciting
but the spark.
By force you chain emotion
and release it by the grain.
But the desert is so full
that to fence it is in vain.
I want you to show
me
Show me what I'm missing
It's not the candle
that gives light
but the flame.
It is the reaching
for the height
that gives fame.
It is the silent evolution
as we become the dream.
It's the honing of the metal
until you can see it gleam.
I want you to show
me
Show me what I'm missing
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