42

A ghost passed through here once

It wants to be simple
a desk
a candle
a garden
paper and pen
books lined up neat and erect
on Sunday best shelves

Late of course
in an hour weariness has worn down
minutes trickling away toward wishes for eternity
tell me if true things come
even to those who got lost
in thickets of external information
ask to be a channel
an instrument
find the music of spirit
be endowed with tapestries detailed in gold
beyond measure or accounting

And still the shell walks and talks
for spirit is neither seen nor sought
only blank and basic being
so in dreams of listening
stillness overtakes this late form
overgrown
wax dripping into patterns
beside a shadow making pen

~~~~~~~~~~

Right angles
turning corners that could cut
holding up even as boulders
descend over your world
its days

Ragged and virtuous
distant and sparks seem to fly
with crackles of malice
so little of help can I give
against stones in cascades

If taking some karmic blame
could lighten the blows
soften the edge
increase the degrees of angularity
I’d gladly take it with mine
into my soul

Instead all I know how to do
is listen and absorb
what you can’t keep inside
when (if) some time comes
bringing such an inclination your way

~~~~~~~~~~

Some surfaces cleared and clean
endeavors’ aches
precious hours and few
in the company of women
heartache for some all too far away
ocean you are hard on my heart
I’ll sell quality though perhaps
I’ll peddle verbs and nouns instead
though all I want to do
is run to where you are or
near enough
to be available
when my presence might be required
or desired