AEAEA
Recurring Dream Island

April 2005
 
 

10 April 2005
 

The Song of the Wake
 

This mirror-dreamt song seems a wall of sheer terror.
The mouth of it leaks answer-waves to the deep
undersea beyond thunder’s called reaches—beware of
its whisper-sung lock-and-key lay, and the sweep
of its strong after-echoes.  Its roaring advancing,
retreating, fast-beating, slow-breathing dream-coils
mean to make us a home for the uneasy dance of
its sadly hushed keening, like death-scented oils
soothing waves of distress from the brow of a nightmare’s
forlornly resourceful sly poetess-shade—
but its efforts are foam, and fall down.  We are lightning,
borne live of real storm, music’s form soul-arrayed.
 

***
 

17 April 2005
 

Heartbeat of the Tree
 

Most swollen—most cloudlike yet shining obsession—
most ghostlike recorder of rivers of strains
of our sky’s living light’s coldest glow’s warmest lesson
laid spirally, liquidly—while your soul wanes
in time’s bound bygone world, it so waxes in this one
where we are twin veins interlaced in one leaf
as the ever-full Moon ever rises—but listen:
Here blent, we are soothed by one croon-sound made chief
among all forms of music:  Most deeply found meaning,
your pulse moves within and beside me, shy guest
poured through severally carrying lines, now fast-beating:
True singing runs clear at love’s silent behest.
 

***
 

29 April 2005
 

Flown Here
 

You worked under-marvels with such keen ambition,
sheer loyalty’s honor rose high, clean as flame,
till the sky our design had enlaced with the swish of
wing-sighing came scything the sound a dear name
had once made to my wander-tuned ear.  When the shining
of love’s apparition burns down, fallow gold,
and its tears are as stars in the ether, the blindness
it finds in its way becomes shallow grey cold
drifts of ice, but then sharply—transparently—wavers,
lovestruck and live green, ice all melted and gone.
I spy—and I mean—though no shining will save you,
our scythe-speaking wings bear true telling’s now-dawn.