THE LOVE SONGS

KITCHEN CONCERT (Sonnet)

The rose stems fisted in his hand are shown

then followed by a crew cut head and can

of peas that doubles for a microphone.

He’s clutched it near the silly beard he’s grown

to hide his second chin, he said. He smiles

at me then sits upon a kitchen stool,

adjusts the can, begins to sing a wild

rendition of a breathless Ronstadt jewel.

Sincerely in his baritone, the words

make music of their own. No need

for bands or instruments to prerecord

his voice. A man and simple can succeed.

Of all the songs that Ronstadt sings, I suggest

this corny one-man kitchen show is best.

INTO THE SEA

Come, twine with me,

assail the winds and gypsy dance

in light.

Revolve into the moonmist,

melt your form to mine.

Smooth the shoreline’s sandy skin

with churning foam

and dissipate in time.

In coolness wrapped

with seaweed leaves

washed calm

by ebbing tides

explode with me like

breaching scales

gleaned from starry skies

Sing for me

a saline melody,

slide along my arms

as we slip into the sea.

ETERNITY

So like your cotton clothes I wear when I’m all alone,

I’m covered by a musky mist of finest ‘you’ cologne.

Tensile ions magnetize our souls with thinnest wire

speaking urgent lovesongs interlaced with sweet desire.

You’ve become a place in me, a town where I belong,

a church with altars to the gods, who give the stars their song.

Past the presence of this life, before all breath began,

you were everywhere in time and everywhere in man.

Take my hand to paradise, to hell or crimson sea—

for matter sleeps with reticence when lured so willingly.

Whatever toll existence claims, I have melody

beyond it all and back again, through eternity.

TORNADO

The tornado came across the lake

out of a summer world suddenly shrouded in green twilight.

A thundering chug of eminent doom pulsed fear,

pulsed a skewed blank of unknown evil.

Chosen by random, trees were sucked into the sky

and slow motion detritus thrashed through the air.

Puzzle pieces of world were flung

by a giant child in a furious rant:

a mailbox onto a roof, a car wedged in a tree

and gravity nowhere in sight.

Punched out by unseen rocks,

windows imploded in pressured rhythm

as the slo mo dance of disaster

undulated over phantom tracks.

Raindrops, like sandblast grains

polished every item to glow like fire

when lightning pierced through consciousness,

and thunder exploded through the train.

On it whirled, then paused to bow

as if staring at its work, then turned and

ran off like Pigpen, with trash humming over his head.

The day was the same kind of day

but the world was a different kind of world.

CHAPEL

There’s a chapel in the forest

where, shining through the leaves,

sun sifts the air for creatures

and glimmers off their wings.

Arches drape clematis vines,

cascade fragrance to the ground

through rhododendron blossoms

lightly tossed around

Lacy limbs curl fingertips

like delicate demitasse

and sunlight glows right through them

miming green cathedral glass.

I’ve seen the glory in the paints

of the Michaelangelo,

and yet luscious wooded raining

holds the image for my soul

RETURN FROM ALASKA

Out of the plains of Calgary and into Montana air

the ribbon of road flies under us, gray and stark and bare.

Cattle and horse, goats and sheep, against the pristine jade

of pastures deep in springtime grass, watch as we make our way.

Running on over to meet the sky, the plains have stretched for miles,

bowing up clouds at their juncture point, in haste to meet their wiles.

Ghosts of lost herds of buffalo low into the wind,

chilling my bones with lonesome moans that time may never mend.

LOTS OF KNOTS

The knots have tangled up my life

I’ve pulled an tugged on them in strife.

Harder then and harder yet,

I tried to force them to relent.

They had my arms pinned tomy sides,

twisted ‘round my feet and thighs.

My head was pinched and bent askew,

ulcers had my stomach, too.

Jesus looked toward my mess –

my knots allowed me one more breath –

"Help," I said with that last call

and one by one, he unraveled all.

They’re in a pile now at my feet

slowly slimming in retreat.

Soon they’ll just a puddle be.

My knots are gone and I’m set free.

REMEMBER ME

Remember me to friends of mine,

who, without a purpose, find

no place to start, no place to end,

just circle round and back again.

Tell them how I left behind

stress and burdens of all kinds.

Jesus wrapped them up for me

and erased them from my memory.

He forgave my errant past

and set me in His perfect path.

No more tears now flow from me.

I live with him in harmony.

I CAN’T WAIT TO TELL MY FRIEND

I can’t wait to tell my friend

what I’ve done because of him.

I didn’t know which way to go

until he said to take it slow.

Until he set me on the trail

held my hand so I’d not fail.

He led me through, my eyes shut tight

in fear of stepping out of sight.

Thorns and weeds grabbed at my skin,

ghosts came forth with hands open,

but on I walked through fear and heat,

and laughed and danced at their retreat.

I can’t wait to tell my friend

what I’ve done because of him.

I didn’t know which way to go

until he said to take it slow.

PEOPLE

REUNION

The man behind the jaundiced eye and perched on the green chair arm

looked me up and down one time like he didn’t give a darn.

Gray of hair and aged of face, but graced with size and girth,

he gazed across the dining room, no recognition there.

He stood up then, and cocked his head and shook gray hair in place

and someone I knew crept out of him and wrinkles were erased.

Adventurous and bold, proud, young and brash, we’re poured in similar cast

we’re piled on a jeep, laughing with drink and commonly locked by our past.

Under his years and inside his eyes, Time’s not removed from his hand

the distinguishing looks that never disguised the boy inside of the man.

THE LADY

She reached in back and untied it there,

the river of satin that was her hair.

From the top of her head it cascaded down,

winding and swirling it tumbled around

her, and softly it whispered as feathers through air.

Its length was her length, and loose it became

a live golden aura enshrouding the same.

She tossed then her head to free more the waves

that rippled and shimmered and gleamed like lame’.

Warmed with the heat of her radiant wrap

she drowsily settled in the canoe for a nap.

NEEDLES

As conversing needles

gossiped about her day,

the knitting woman warmed

her hands and thoughts.

Yarn sped through her fingers

a softly linking way,

tying life together

with strong loose knots.