I have no lips to trace you with,
Just these words from screen to screen.
That I might glimpse such galaxies in you,
Scan the passages of this great mind
That holds us and all the hope-filled stars
In its confounding lines, your finite part
Startled by what mine might mean
To one like you, who keeps the old
Ways extant, by cradling the new,
Cleansing fire of our stubborn creed.
I can’t, I might, with half my hours spent,
Spend the other in your beauty’s tent
In some chosen, lovesick city, a crusade away…
For once, the reckoners were right--
The loving heart must doubly pay.
Fears find us.
Many wear watches
And pass out the time
Like poisoned candies
In a waiting room.
Not with sharp knives
In the dark places,
And never silently.
They notice you
On a bench
Or standing in line deciding
What to have for lunch.
They walk right up,
Hold out a hand
And introduce themselves,
And we always grab it and shake.
I was born again
From kite strings
And the blood of lumberjacks' lust for trees.
I stood before the faceless orchestra,
Sinister and divine,
The trumpets shining, the brass and brazen,
Cast a light into my eyes
And I was not a man
or a god
or a girl
or a swan
I was the conductor
Of a thousand reasons
To rain and to love
To catch fire the world
With sounds that had cowered in my soul
light lights burning light
! ! !
Nathan Woods, editor/overlord