Just maybe

maybe I'm crazy

sitting under the moon

waiting for you

maybe I've read

too many romances

and believed them too

but the moon has

told me you've read

those same romances

and that you're crazy too

maybe I'm crazy

looking in a mirror

searching for you

maybe my reflection

shows me a better

point of view

but the mirror's

told me you've looked

at that same view

and that you're crazy too

maybe I'm crazy

howling under the moon

calling for you

maybe I cry out 

too many times

thinking I'll find you

but the moon has

whispered to me

you've been calling too

and that I'm crazy for you

 

Beltane night

this fire

a herald of May

let its sparks fly

littering the grass

with dandelion gold

and red flickers

in tulip blush

its radiant glow

shining though

daffodil collars

hail the queen

this month of May

dressed in clouds

of Spring rains

and lilac blooms

reigning with scepter

of sweet lily white

and Helios light

call the Flower Moon

this first day of May

full and fresh

the lunar request

to shine down upon 

to kiss and bless

the Earth with warmth

and bloom's delight

for future's fruit

and unseen root

from this Beltane night

A flock of seagulls

the travel log 

must be extraordinary

for the seabirds

that return to the middle

and to give up

that briny shore and

salty ocean breeze

where primordial life 

once poured out of

for the middle

where one must follow

a tractor and plow

to scrounge in the earth

for whatever may crawl 

or wriggle out to sacrifice

itself for dinner

instead of plunging into

endless deep blue waves 

for a pound of silvery fish flesh

one must question

the reasoning behind

this seasoning travel

 

Letting go

a release of obligation

to further let go

of something that 

never was mine

to further surrender

to the eternal and divine

all that is kept

inside the chambers

of the heart

all that is mine

all that's divine

for it's possession

serving as deception

of that flame that never

consumes what it burns

let me walk through

that very same fire

let it consume both

my longing and desire

so I may come to rest

in what will always be

the unity of you and me

Cold wet grass

bare feet on

cold wet grass

flesh flows over

the fallen rain

hanging on each blade

the sky above echoes of

the wings of crows

as night filters through

the heavy sullen clouds

in silken petals shines

the golden sun

beacons among 

the shadows and green

bare feet grasp

the ache of wet cold

yet tarry on the lawn

 

Clearing of thistles

the sharp teethed leaves

in green rosette

of the early growth

so eager and vicious

tucked in among

the wild violet blooms

and blushing peony stems

and anywhere else

the downy seeds 

may have fallen last Fall

yet sharper blades

plunge into the earth

knightly swords plunging

into the bosom of

the scaly dragonish beast

never giving chance 

for violet silks to give rise 

to the same downy seeds

that may have fallen last Fall

In the music

this music

makes me think

of our talks

when we'd sneak

away in the dark

to get lost in

each other's words

there was none

of this silence

every little thought

would spill out

uninterrupted and

willing

sometimes my

voice would become

yours and you

would finish where

I had left off

and if we had gone

to a palm reader

I bet they wouldn't

have known whose hand

was whose

you always

gave me perspective

and I hope I

always gave you

hope

when our talks

felt like music