I was a captain of the sky
clouds around my head
like a laurel wreath
eyes fixed on the cresting moon
elbows dancing, and then
in the spark of an instant
lost, all lost,
just a vague memory
until time scrubs the words
from this stone
Spring is here
the sun rises early
and scoots across the sky
slowing only for high noon
Spring is here
the hawk patrols his highway
field mice scatter
songbirds bicker in the bushes
Spring is here
something – a flower, a tree –
pushes up through the
loose soil of a grave
Spring is here
Thank you, Brother Moon,
for lighting our hearts
in the deepest night.
Thank you, Brother Moon,
for guiding the Sun
on its relentless arc.
Thank you, Brother Sun,
patient behind the rim of morning
awaiting your time to rise.
Thank you, Brother Sun,
for your terrible light
upon good and evil alike.
Thank you, Mother Earth,
for embracing the dead
we discard along with our dreams.
We children, both of
darkness and light.
In my mind’s lens, my father’s
Face is smooth and petrified
Like an ancient lake
Steeped in mountains
It’s true, isn’t it,
There can be only one infinity
This is impossible:
Life without limits
Moons exist for no one
Though everyone thinks
They’re just
For dreaming
Question, they say, all of it,
Take nothing as given,
Give nothing up, erase all
Boundaries, be eternal.
He tried, and I tried after him.
Only we didn’t know
His freedom was my razor wire,
My freedom was his failure.
A poem written six years ago.
So long ago,
I got to know him well,
Always reaching, always looking
For a reason to keep living,
Even knowing
How alone we all are,
How he lived inside his head
Where no one could see the struggles,
No one could know how wrong they got it,
How, even he, in the end,
Gave up hoping for it
To change somehow,
Went from telling us how
To simply asking why.
Well, it’s a fair question, that.
Only, there can never be
An answer, no matter
How hard we stare
At the universe, demanding.
The universe only stares back,
Blankly.
Why had God forsaken him?
Why had he been so deluded
To think it would be different
From fear,
From loneliness,
From deception,
From illusion,
From cheap deliverance,
From intoxication,
From imagination?
Sitting and listening
To the sirens at night,
I imagine a million of them,
An endless stream of Jesuses
Asking the same question.
Why
exiles child 