The Secret Gallery
Gold and Gate
Up in these hills
the sky soars around you
and clears the way
for thoughts to roam
as free as the hawks above.
Hiking along these trails
where the grasses wave
all is revealed in the
pitiless light of summer
and the valley below
lies naked and exposed
with its riches of feather and fur.
Face/Off
Is it both/and
or either/or?
Do you see me
or do I see you?
Can I speak to you
as you speak to me?
Should I give or should
you take? Do you
see what I see that
you see I see?
Is it both/and
or neither/nor?
Leap of Faith
Icarus descends this time
not on wings, but skis.
Beyond these hills lies an unknown climb,
and a world that no one sees.
There's a delicate balance
between experience and innocence,
between what makes sense
and what makes no sense.
Just throw it all in the crucible of hours,
and hope the sky brings sun, not showers.
Golden Delicious
In this dark and deadly tree
gleams a fruit so tempting
my desire to taste its flesh
almost trumps my fears.
The leaves like serpents' tongues,
and the black lightning branches
warn me away. The blood red sky
screams out danger, but the
louder the warnings howl,
the stronger the tempest blows,
the brighter glows this golden morsel,
and the more my hunger grows.
Focus
Sitting here in Plato's cave,
we always want to see
the shapes before us
a little more clearly,
but no matter how often
we cry, "Focus",
the picture never gets
any clearer.
Where the hell is
that damn projectionist?
Beach Babe
Far away from uneasy care,
the tropic sun beats down
on sparkling sea and sand.
Above me
this floating umbrella
shields my soft, pale,
voluptuous flesh.
This blushing beach is mine alone,
and life, for me, is good.
Mrs. Partridge and Her Family
There's a silly song they sing
around the time Christmas takes wing,
but in it they've got us all wrong.
Our nests aren't in trees, as in song,
but underneath. We hide
the best we can inside
bushes, weeds or grass.
In winter snow can shelter us from sight,
but not from cold. So, if some time, you might,
as you walk through woods,
see me lead my brood,
please let us pass,
that's all I ask.
Lagoon Music
This white noise city's
pounding rhythm shreds my senses.
Its grime is grinding away
my peace of mind.
Come away with me
to where the fishing's good.
It's a shady spot
sheltered from the sun,
far from the crowd's cacophony.
We can wash away
all we've forgotten to forget
and listen to the silent songs
of a symphony in an azure key
with a rhythm that ripples light,
bouncing off the surface
of a cool, clear pool.
Our Lady
Call me what you like.
Astarte, Isis, Diana, Hecate.
What's in a name, anyway?
People like to label
what they don't understand.
Mona Lisa, La Giaconda, Mary.
Some of these handles
have a nice ring to them,
but I take many names
and many forms.
Aphrodite, Venus, Aurora, Nika.
If you put a sheaf of wheat
in my hands you call me Virgo,
even though,
being mother of the world,
I'm no virgin.
Whatever.
I've been around long enough
to know that nomenclatures are just
impressions in sand before a rising tide.
These marks will disappear,
but I'll still be here,
listening to the waves
as they call me by a name
no mere mortal knows.
Viscera
Inside this flesh are bones.
Behind the bones are organs,
tubes and passages for fluids,
blood and shit.
But somewhere deep within
the heart, the spleen,
and the calcium hardened
skeleton there is a universe
hidden from our eyes and doctor's knives,
opening out to infinite space.
Each cell a world, each group of cells
a galaxy. We came from stars
and to the ink black sky we will return.