New water will direct
All four corners of
The soul that
Wander without berth
The nautics between
Doubt and sight,
Darkness and love.
water
Looking out on Manhattan from Brooklyn : Thought 3 between Keap Street and Kalm
The water lapped the shore
When Brooklyn was battle
And the only iron was shrapnel
Now water laps the shore
Under engineered thunder at
4:41 and 4:45 and more-
Express thunder chud – feeding stakes
To cheese-creamed bagel picnics
But heat sits
None the
Less.
Tending Towards Generosity
Why do we sow and water a patch
We do not own? Is it because we
Know that we and Peace are jeopardised
If our sunflower seeds are left to grow smug
Beside barren pods who cannot
See the sun, blinded by jealousy and
Deranged by the thirst that comes
From sharing Earth with thicker
Roots than theirs can ever be?
In tending to what is not ours, Nature does
Not credit us with generosity, She understands
How truly selfish are her fans,
To share the water, Earth and Sun
Is not Love but preservation of a self
That needs the nourishment that
Giving gives the giver to feed the
Craving for that gratitude and Love
That fills us when we have enough to eat but
Goes lactic as we grow hungry, keen to steal
And fence what we once gave and scattered.
Gas to Liquids
Taken from below
The well of today
Has brought up
A bucket full of
Thirst on a long
Thin string ready
To crack with not
Much weight, Tight
Already.
The line’s tug is
Felt from above,
Where the knots
Rub sores on the
Bar of wood
That straddles the
Dead round hole-
Soul drop, below the bar.
The bar is my brain,
Pain is the knot
And the rope
Is my self
Whom I have taught
To expect Nothing. Neither
Bucket life and
But there is more
Rope and more depth
And more pain
And water, too, if
I plunge in again
[4th September 2009]