Waiting for the Boat
The sun shimmers on the murky water
A little fish jumps
a dragonfly hovers over all
And ghosts of tigers look across the river.
The couple on the bench
Look at their watches
The boat is late, they say, annoyed.
The boat is always late.
But the sun, the fish, the dragonfly
And the tiger ghosts
Are right on time.
Hope and Illusion, Last Dance
The ghost of
my old lover
hummed a song to me today
at sunrise
memories of Hendrix;
we thought we were
experienced
dancing in the cold cold
streets of Boston
watching the dawn
two sprites dancing
at the bottom of the sea.
I watched the sunrise
alone
and thought of him.
We danced
because we thought
the worst was over
Aquarias was dawning
leaving money-hugging
power love
far away and
long ago
in the time before
in an unmourned past
.
We thought we saw
Quetzalcoatl
flying in from
Eastern skys
bringing peace
and art and flowers
bringing love.
Hope and Illusion
dancing together
watching sunrises
First Published at Motherbird.com
ODE TO COBRA
I didn’t notice
my wrinkles,
or the gray,
or the gravity,
much,
but young Cobra
noticed
and with sympathy
and kindness
showing in his
pretty eyes
pretty boy eyes
he smiled with all
the radience of
a toothpaste commercial.
I can take the stress
from your lovely face
he murmured
brushing the silver
gently from my brow
for a reasonable fee
because I like you
so much.
Does this mean
I’ve reached
“a certain age?”
Have I reached the age
of advertising smiles
and deference
on the beach
from friendly young men
with guileless eyes
and open hands?
I have always been
curious.
I have always wanted
to meet a gigolo.
I didn’t expect a gigolo
to want to meet me.
– Daisy Sidewinder
.
Always the coldness
creeping in
disturbing the warmth
of my illusions,
illusions of
d’Artagnan seeking
one for all and
all for one
true friends
warm love
risking all.
For them
the musketeers
there were no borders drawn
between them,
they knew that
borders don’t exist
imaginary lines
drawn in the mists
of paranoia.
But they
the musketeers
are only my
illusions,
now.
Like them
I drift into
invisibility
missing them
I have become
a nonexistent
border
separating love
and despair.
Dreaming Dream Tiger
The dreaming tiger
clung to me
his paws around my neck
his head, his silky head
upon my shoulder
eyes closed
cat smile,
weightless in his dreaming body
but warm, so warm.
I gently stroked his head.
He likes you
said the voice
the mystery voice
that comes to me sometimes
and I was glad.
I liked the tiger
too.
I rode the tiger
in my weightless dreaming body
and with him
nonchalantly strolled
as only cats can stroll
through magic forests
never looking down
or to the side
but only straight ahead.
We walk with
confidence
and strength.