A Gap of Air

The air once widened into a gap
Is where shadow is lost to light
It is through that crack walked my love
Purposeful and imaginary stealth
My sight centered on her

I glanced skyward then in thought
Where shadowy clouds parted my mind's sky
The crease of grey clearly defined against white
The grass beneath me to either side felt soft
On this trail I stood

As in all trail ends
There is the path that comes before it
A walk from beginning to end
Unique and personal for each
I stood still now for this instant on firm dirt
This one spot on the path
My spot

My eyes closed gradually in quick slumber
The restful blackness visible
I lay down on my spot
This new love lay down beside me
Time flowed across the gap between us
Her hair flowing across my blind vision
Sensitive smell sensed perfume on her lips

You and I, both clearly in this path's space
The gap of air untouchable but there
A whisper of movement from you I felt
The clear soft skin unmistakable and fresh
Arms length away you were in the blankness of time
My own time

Your eyes were visible to me
Only like an old canvass in a dark attic
Like circular rainbows
Spotlighted from a sunbeam
Peaking through a crack in the wall

I watched your hair turn slowly to a fresh spot
A wave of lush love rippled down my skin
And was gone just as suddenly
Yes you were alive I know
The crease of grey clearly defined against white
The unbleached fragment in a wink

This is where the deep hidden temperature I felt came from
The restful detail left on this path's spot
Where once I lay encumbered in love
Gaps left covering the true condition of my heart

Mark, 2010

Clutter

I have too much cluttering my mind

The list never ends

Take the kids here and there, just for fun

Remember this technical detail for work

Start a home business

Can't get my computer to work right

What is my debit card number?

Car due for inspection

Another PTO meeting

Don't forget to pay the bills

Washing machine just broke

Add an item to the household budget

Help the kids with homework

Can't remember basic math

Cell phone is ringing

Make plans for the next vacation

Eat

Watch TV

Forgot my password

Got to the machine and my mind went blank

Got half way up the stairs and my mind went blank

What was I going upstairs for?

Clean the house

I thought we were to be hunters and gatherers?

Pardon me while I go sit on the toilet

Peace at last

Mark, 1999

Material Burdens

A homeless thief picked my pocket today

As I was wandering a crowded sidewalk fray
To remove my lottery ticket apparently so
Since the pocket he picked was light on doe
Was it I the burden should have won
Or will the criminal now win the sum

Later I view his image on the news at ten
Very boldly does he speak to friends
Informing the down and out how rich life is grand
Unaware of his joyous burden at hand

His logic is a mere tenuous trick
Pride enormous swelling his head thick
A 20 room mansion he buys at the beach
Unknown friends come around to leech

His mind is taking him places with no trouble at all
He's so high in the sky there is no place to fall
The news announces he is part of the jet set
But the antithesis of money is undoubtedly debt

My life rings clear my time here saved
The money trail is a path better left unpaved
The thief had relieved me of a heavy tow
There is still a field to plow and wheat to sow
For god has given man strong hands for labor
And not for trading in the ungodly colored paper

But Still, while lying on the earth in repose
I jealously wait and listen in silence
For joyous yelling of some sort in the distance
Of my ship to come in loaded with gold
Of the nature of my soul to turn around and be sold

Instead I hear bees begging at the dandelions so sweet
The wind pushing dropped cherry tree leaves on top of me
The blades of grass rubbing together in a song
The noise of a train whistle in the thick air lingering long

In quiet contemplation I think as I doze
Today as the wealthy lottery ticket owner I posed
But I am rich with family, a lover and friends
This is solid material and not pretend

Now the thief's burden is the wealth I supposed
Rich with new comfortable slumber I begin
Here I rest wanton for burdens naught again
Nor the vines of pain and misery it grows

Mark, 2010

Ring of Memories

The ring of memories is a pure belief in something
For a life which has its limits and technicalities
These surrounded my heart in uneven love
But comfortable love none the less

Memories born and exist from the Will…

Is this body real or am I nothing?
Do I exist as an entity in space and time
Or only as memories bending to the subconscious assumptions

Each beat of my heart creates sweat leaking from my pores
My mind's eye sees neither truth nor lies
This is just life leaking from the ring of memories

Memories born and exist from the Will…

Life filled to the brim has squeezed my heart tight
Trying to squeeze love from a stale lemon
An over-watered life dripping into the overflow

But squeeze and leak it can try
Emptiness on one end brings fullness on the other
The greatness of the psyche ebbs and flows with time

This body lies pure in a time with limits
Changing only when needed or desired
The Will stabbing its fair pain on occasion

All memories live and exist from the Will…

Mark, 2010

Be Tender to Love

Be not cruel to the Notion of Love

Nor, when found, let it fly off
Like rain rebounding from a hard ground

For tender are the words of love
When love is spoken in truth
That they remain steady on closed lips
Descending on the recipients breath
Seeping through those closed doors slowly

Confined to ferment

Hold tight to your chest the Notion of Love
Like a needle holds the pine tree up
When winds decide to tempt it to fall
Into the mire of used needles below

Do not become the hand of a love tyrant
Through life, love seeks cuddling warmth
Spoken too loudly, words of love
Will push tender air into an echoic refrain
Spoken too softly, the unsure words will fade

The idea of love is a kind friend
To hold hands with in gentleness
To an aching heart it foreshadows resentment
With a solemn soul at peace it is contentment

Leave your heart open as a receptive place
For Notions of Love to flow in and out
And to provide a soft spot for it to rest

Slumbering in its essence

Wonton love left floating alone in air
Will find the nearest spot for attraction
But leave the inactive participant alone
Loveless and fallen

Mark, 2010

Winter at the End of the Journey

Hours whisked away, the year's journey nears an end

The clock ticks even more quickly its urgent message to send
Unused last remnants of our yearly desires soon depart
A new list of wishes penned in the mind to start

Time stands still for no man at this late hour
Urgent memories soon lost dim, faded to sour
Days quicken down sunrise to sunset
Actions stalled in time turn to regret

Winters whispering white snow fall soon descends
Trees to grow heavy toward black ground bend
Cleansing deep earth of rot and rust
In its pristine white carpet defilement free we trust

Cold window air against the skin a near bitter delight
Time waiting at parted curtain for ray of warm sunlight
A staunch look of daydream turned to stare
Dust and ideas set free into the clean fresh air

The distance seems daunting from winter to spring
But starry daydreams of youth a moment of joy brings
The ground crisp with frost its winter coat does wait
A green grass grows alone still unaware of its fate

Minutes, hours and seconds pass quickly unseen
As the old year closes and the new one sets in
Fresh cheer for renewed energy the Earth beckons forth
All souls faded clean by winds from the north

Time stands still for no man lest it mend
New man reformed with bright sun behind him
Old dust nearly settles to form new hard clay
Winter arms of air surrounding a reborn day

Mark, 2007

Want, Need

Need and want comingle.
They become blurred together
when perception is left to the senses.

Don't let me perceive her, this one,
as needing my help. Then
I will love her eventually.
That would mean no chance for others
to come along. Make life interesting.
Especially other used women
who would be so easy to take care of and
not bother my senses.
A love life devoid of love and pain.

I tried before to find someone.
This someone I wanted was whole.
They did not like me since I
was the one now. I was the one who
needed help and that became my unattractive
weakness.

So I was caught in a game of needing help
or helping the needy. Unsure and
never fully giving my true self.
I sold myself as the giver.
I sold myself as the taker.
I sold myself to the unsuspecting
who didn't realize they needed me
to fall in love as much as I needed to be in love.

Mark, November 2006

Duck Flight

I saw a flock of ducks
fly past. I wondered the other day.
They cut a dotted shadow across a wide dawn sky.
A line from a black and white cut out.

I wondered if the last duck
wondered why he was last.

Maybe that duck is saying something else.
Maybe saying "I will take my time, while you others rush".
Rush from one place of waiting to the next.

Perhaps the last duck is old. Wiser.
Leisurely enjoying sites that he missed before.
When he was in the lead.
Or maybe he is just struggling to keep up.

It was obvious that all the ducks were intent.
Intent on a final destination for food and shelter.
All wanted to enjoy a rich history of to and fro.
A hearty meal.
Elders might be allowed to eat first.

But the elders were at the end.
The end of the dotted line cutting a shadow.
Thinking.
The last shall be first and the first last.

Mark, 1996

Lit, Burn, Forget

The People you meet
The short relationship from a perpendicular line

It was the match you lit last week
Giving off a light in the bathroom

An immediate sensation backed by years of experience

The smoke swirled away like dust caught in the updraft
You felt it causing heat and sensed you were part

It burnt chemicals in the air to work right

This was a real thing that you touched
A thing that set nerve endings to warm
Set your mind to contemplating its fate

You were touching it; it was real and existed

For a brief moment all you thought about
Was this amusement to the eye

Then after the flame and heat died in a blink
A flick of the wrist and in the trash

You did not think about it the next day
Did not dwell or consider its life after

It existed for this brief space as a thing
The brief friendship of two things

It burnt chemicals in the air to work right

Mark, 2010

Concave

Me, it's me in the mirror.
What are you looking at so strangely?

Me, looking at myself in the mirror?
When you you
You are the reflection of all that is wrong.

Your mind ready to fornicate on command.
The coded gene life you have.
The open black book dressed for success.

Why are you staring at your deep eye sockets
in the mirror? Now.
You are walking away.
Walking closer to the source of the reflection.

This is part of a long history of cancellations.
You and time don't mix.
Stare at the prospect of endless you.

Here you stand looking past me
at all the others like you.
This is like stretching an inch of happiness
into a brainstorm of activity. When?
All you are is a link in the action.

Why are you looking at tomorrow's someone
when you have subtly approved it already?
You donated data for the whole
and then exchanged remorseful glances.

You are apt to expire just when
turning the calendar to the next day's date
before the current day is finished. You.
Forget what's in the mirror as only a reflection.

This is you with face lit in the mirror
from a light to one side.

Mark, 1990