Thursday, March 27, 2008

In Search of Rest

the image of love in

the mirror

turns...

into a whirlpool of desire

we cannot maintain our balance

and so we fall



was it love?

we are the fuel

and when we are gone

there is no flame



i became brilliant beneath the light of your love

i was alive

and only then was i alive



woven into tapestries of color and sound

where have you gone?



i look for you in every face

but i do not fall in love



i remain apart

one wing in an empty sky



somewhere inside

a woman moves

and at night she often dances

in perfect breath with me



this is the woman with whom i am truly close

this is the only woman



mother of God

sound and fury

silence absolute

beautiful beyond description

terrifying in full approach



the mind dissolves



"be still my child

no harm will come to you

strong men i bring them down

and suck them dry

but my child may dwell in safety"



i looked too hard and too long

i found her and now i cannot return



there is no dream of life that can be believed



there is only the vastness of space

the appearance of time

and the differing weight...



sometimes heavy

like the sorrow of a long past



sometimes light as an angels hand upon your shoulder

steering a course through the stormy heavens

and planetary wars fought in human form

until the last day



she is everywhere

in unseen miniature multiplied



in the air

the earth

the dancing flesh



she takes me in my sleep

flying up the long corridor to my bright home



why is it difficult to leave the fields of play?

here among the doomed flowers

the gravity of bones

the brief exhalation of life



young girls press the pulse

and draw the essence forth

into the raging holocaust

of passion rampant

on a field of blood



"i will protect you my child

i will wash the worlds of form from your heart

i will remove the sword above your head

i will teach you to dance

but you will dance for me alone"



it is the greatest heartbreak

the destruction of the false self

dreamed by the self

and revealed to the self

at separations end



the terror of mortal pain

the agony of life’s constant march



unending loss of everything



unending loss of everything



it hurts to be free

freedom is too much to bear

too difficult to accept



the luminous door appears

and the mind cries out for darkness



it slithers under floorboards and rocks

to hide from immortality



"i will protect you my child

i will hold you as yourself

we are woven as one

eternity and time

forget

forget

forget"




in a world where everything but truth dies

but which few see



in a world that begins and ends forever

that is the playground

for a mind magnetized by dust



in a world where everything is broken

no heart is safe



in a world of mostly water

for it is a world of mostly tears



in a world where love is crucified

no lie is safe



in a world of contrasts

of desperate flights

and measureless descent

where everything is written on

or built out of sand

that flows to the bottom of an all forgiving sea



in a world of waiting

and hoping

where every dream comes true

eventually

and then loses its meaning and disappears



in a world of rumors

and dying swans who mate for life

we move to and fro

in search of rest



impelled by need

in search of rest



tormented by flies and furies

in search of rest



burning in the long night

in search of rest



in search of rest



in search of rest



"i will protect you my child

i have built a garden of delight

it hangs iridescent in the air

it gleams in a drop of water

it spins in the living breath"



a love serene

the emptiness of mind



the holding of one



the mirror of light



the bloom of begotten-

worlds sent forth

in search of rest



in search of rest



in search of rest


Patrick Willis narrates:
In Search of Rest

Saturday, March 22, 2008

I Do Believe (an Easter Poem)

In that essential stillness

that quiet endless hour...
preceding every dawn
of every day...

God breathes into the world of sleep
whatever power might be taken
to reach
that waking moment
in the warm falling rain of his grace...

In every year
whenever the wheel has turned
into the place where it must turn again

or stop

for want of hope
or lack of dreams...

God breathes once again
into the greater whole...
this soft malleable whiteness
this stone...

he blesses
this unformed essence of extraordinary love
not yet fashioned with object
or desire...

it awaits our cleansed and contrite heart

awaits our innocence returned

awaits our renewing hope and certain will

that we might approach closer to the mark...

We have fallen back
upon the dying leaves

upon the sidewalks of shouting cities

into the guttering run
where flows the secret mind of our hidden deeds

more times than we can
through mercy
recall....

Every breath
every morsel of food
every chance of redemption
every possibility of hope
rests upon the bleeding power
that has bought and paid for every coming minute of the age...

Every twisted ugly thing

Every kindness unseen

every gentle thought

every whip hand falling
or whatever we may have turned it to...

all paid for by the living vision
of the one who dies

who is crucified
in the simultaneous instant of every act....

everything is permitted and fed
that we might, through the gift
of this unspeakably great thing
come to see how we might be....

and the certain possibility of that
for everyone of us

no matter how dark the way

how far afield...

is the 'ceaseless' intent
of the one left bleeding....

what freedom is
what love is
what peace is
we have no clue

only the yearning
and the road that leads us there...

Many have filled this void with words

Many heroes come
and seeming villains to meet them in their time

all sleeping now
in places deep and waiting...

but this one does not sleep

Is born anew in every breath

shines from each shining eye

cannot and will not forget

carries us past the trouble and regret.

In tongues forgotten he has come
to every race
in every time

dressed as everyone

always unknown and alone
and waiting...

this immeasurable gift

unappreciated

not understood

remains...

lays on the common ground

is tossed aside as worthless

is unseen among the items in the cart

it feeds us

grants us life where there would be none...

endless granted, giving life...

full and safe and perfect

I do believe....


Patrick Willis narrates:
I Do Believe (an Easter Poem)

Friday, March 7, 2008

Bend over and Wait

true love is a dream
that wakes up
and blends everything into itself


life has meaning
everything makes sense


sometimes it is more than this
sometimes much less
without it


then life becomes all expectation
hope running nervous at the edges
that are frayed
where they have been gnawed by doubt


too weak in the end to hold together
under the terrible weight of disappointment
which is always the result
of seeking true love
while being unable to truly love


real love is more rare than a bankers tears
more rare than sacrifice in a politician
yet it is what gives us life
still


we dream and wonder


and bend over and wait...


the physical eye is aflame and
intoxicated with form


golden Barbies and volleyball gods
symmetrical curves and perfect lines
youth without brains and
as cruel as a cat


the fruit of imagination
the object of desire


the plain ones cry-
"choose me!"
"no me!"
"sprinkle me with fairy dust."
"smile and break my heart."
bend over and wait...


"image is everything."
in that case imagine Agase sodomized with a tennis racket
an excellent image
caught by Canon
seeming...
somehow...
vulnerable in this new light
lets see that one again
i know
bend over and wait...


life is television and television
is life
there on the mindscreen to digest
serve it with blood in a beaded glass
put the shine of romance on your beckoning ass
while you
bend over and wait...


ah
the wait
the expectation...


small bumps of excitement dot the cheeks
the sphincter contracts
and in a circular twist
its length is rimmed with invisible tongues
slick sweet death to the max
"oh!"
"now!"
"now!"
"now!"
bend over and wait...


visible beauty
the desperate lie
they came here
and confused attention with love
notoriety with fame


and not even death and rebirth
has given them any depth


these tragic shells with nothing inside
they slide through the scenery
as the scenery
crying to the world


"long for me!"


"desire me!"


"lay awake at night and dream of me!"
(clench your stomach tight with need)
but
"don't touch!"
"don't touch!"


let them milk your desire like bees among the flowers
and
bend over and wait...


they slide like snakes in the moonlight
over dark glass
they mate with their own vacant forms
moving millimeters apart


never touching
and always out of reach


two dimensional poster art


the blue television light flickers
and halos their face
lit with the blood-light of swallowing fate


they dance before you and sing


"bend over and wait."


"bend over and wait."


they break the heart like glass
with their cold hard beauty


hard and cold and hard and


adamantine


and valued
as diamonds are


by those who covet what cannot feel
bend over and wait...


bend over and wait...


we are presently dead
actually asleep
and in a dream


buried in flesh


everything is backwards


we wake up when we die


god is playing hide and seek
while you


dream of being serviced by a cyborg
that television said was real


television said
"get excited!"


television said
"let them sit on your face!"


television said
"you should live for this."


and


if they are late?
yea
you know


bend over and wait


Patrick Willis narrates:
Bend Over and Wait