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Love Sonnet 64 You Are The Last Thought In My Mind Each Night

You are the last thought in my mind each night,
The first as I would start the day, to be
Aroused with early moments of delight,
As you would occupy my reverie;
Heaven could reason for the clear blue sky,
The bluebird, for the melodies it sings,
But never has my heart the reasons why,
Your love made me rejoice for joys it brings;
Might I, the Lord, for worldly wisdom ask,
To know the subtle workings of my heart,
Before I would, on false presumptions bask,
And cause this soul's temple to tear apart;
…..If fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
..…Should I go where the angels are, instead?

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Clear Blue Sky

Have your eyes carried the azure sky?
Clear blue sky so straightforward as the sigh
That tingles from too much loving sight
Of a planet in turmoil and light.

Have you awakened to the splendour we drown
With the mightiness of the braking sword all brown
From the bleeding of corpses and life,
Always in demand in the living knife.

How is the life when forward-marching,
Your identity card is needed searching?

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Goobye Blue Sky

[ look, mummy. theres an airplane up in the sky. ]
Did you, did you see the frightened ones?
Did you, did you hear the falling bombs?
Did you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter,
When the promise of a brave new world,
Unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?
Did you, did you see the frightened ones?
Did you, did you hear the falling bombs?
The flames are all long gone,
But the pain lingers on.
Goodbye, blue sky.
Goodbye, blue sky.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.

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Goodbye Blue Sky

Look mummy, theres an aeroplane up in the sky
Did you see the frightened ones?
Did you hear the falling bombs?
Did you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter when the
Promise of a brave new world unfurled beneath a clear blue
Sky?
Did you see the frightened ones?
Did you hear the falling bombs?
The flames are all gone, but the pain lingers on.
Goodbye, blue sky
Goodbye, blue sky.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
The 11:15 from newcastle is now approaching
The 11:18 arrival....

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Fools Rush In

(words & music by j. mercer - r. bloom)
Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread
And so I come to you my love
My heart above my head
Though I see the danger there
If theres a chance for me
Then I dont care, oh-oh-oh-oh
Fools rush in, where wise men never go
But wise men never fall in love
So how are they to know
When we met, I felt my life begin
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in
And I dont care, oh-oh-oh-oh
Fools rush in, where wise men never go
But wise men never fall in love
So how are they to know
When we met, I felt my life begin
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

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Endless Blue Sky

Endless blue sky
When I look upon that sky, that sky of endless blue, seeing those birds fly. I feel like I’m
flying too, when I stand somewhere so high, look at that endless blue sky. I wished I could flying next to them, looking at the earth with the wind in my hair, the feeling of driving through clouds. O I wished that I could fly in that endless blue sky.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Worldly Wisdom

If it were in my dead Past’s power
To let my Present bask
In some lost pleasure for an hour,
This is the boon I’d ask:

Re-pedestal from out the dust
Where long ago ‘twas hurled,
My beautiful incautious trust
In this unworthy world.

The symbol of my souls own truth –
I saw it go with tears –
The sweet unwisdom of my youth –
That vanished with the years.

Since knowledge brings us only grief,
I would return again
To happy ignorance and belief
In motives and in men.

For worldly wisdom learned in pain
Is in itself a cross,
Significant mayhap of gain,
Yet sign of saddest loss.

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Fools Rush In

Just why do I want you baby
Anyone but a fool would let it be
Go on anywhere you take me
I dont want to know whats pulling me
If I fall so deep
With my eyes so wide
Then I hope that feeling isnt only mine
Fools rush in
Where the wise dont go
Fools rush in
And Im a fool for love
Fools rush in
But the wise dont know
Fools rush in
Safe advice
I cant let it stop me
Love dont wanna know the reason why
If we fall so deep
With our eyes so wide
Then I know the feeling isnt
Only mine
Fools rush in
Where the wise dont go
Fools rush in
And Im a fool for love
Fools rush in
But the wise dont know
Fools rush in

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Why I Love You

The reasons why I love you
Are very simple but very true.
Every time I see you, you make me happy.
Every time I talk to you,
I feel like the luckiest chappy.

There are days when I can hear your name
Entering my open ears.
They always make me want to
Scream out joyful cheers.

Every night, I close my eyes
And the first thing I see is your beauty;
This reminds me always
That you are quite the cutie.

Another reason why I love you
Is because you are the only model
For the portrait I would paint.
Why is that?
Because, to me, you are such a saint.

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You And I Could Fly High Into The Blue Sky

If you were my morning dove
What is love dove
Could we fly through the air dove
Would it be enough
If you and I could fly
Could you and I try
Not to shed tears and cry
I will not lie

To thee my dove
You and I could fly high into the blue sky

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The Blue Sky

The quality of your love,
The quality of your muse,
The quality of your content;
The Blue Sky!
And like the boys and the girls next door.

The Blue Sky!
And for all the artists on this earth;
But, i do write because, i want to free my mind.

It was like a live show when i met you!
And like the muse of your love;
Stringer, ginger, linger, stinger, zinger, singer;
But, the Blue Sky is very high above us.

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Bullet The Blue Sky

In the howling wind comes a stinging rain
See it driving nails
Into the souls on the tree of pain
From the firefly, a red orange glow
See the face of fear running scared in the valley below
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue
In the locust wind comes a rattle and hum
Jacob wrestled the angel and the angel was overcome
You plant a demon seed; you raise a flower of fire
You see them burning crosses
You see the flames higher and higher
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue
This guy comes up to me
His face red like a rose on a thorn bush
Like all the colors of a royal flush
And hes peeling off those dollar bills
Slapping them down
One hundred, two hundred
And I can see those fighter planes
And I can see those fighter planes
Across the mud huts where the children sleep
Through the alleys of a quiet city street
You take the staircase to the first floor
Turn the key and slowly unlock the door
As a man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside is america
Outside is america
Across the field you see the sky ripped open
See the rain through a gaping wound
Pounding on the women and children
Who run
Into the arms
Of america

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In The Deep Blue Sky

Close of from you there is always something
Dreams faraway - though twice is more than enough
Like time passes by to a world that will sing

In something that's happening all over the world
Brining to the ground what from inside is true
Footsteps going around to thinking once hurled

The playful of pulls to the up and the closing
And bringing away what they thought they found
Every aspect of happening in very first arousing

And bring to the distance
Every cloud faraway in the deep blue sky
With so much hazy of dreams that will try
With so much hazy of dreams going there by
To bring to the distance

To find what was once without any falling doubt
And giving enough of spaces there all between
Those go around in their wandering ways and about

In their hours of departing or staying
With every embrace of their opportunity
Like feelings that come for their unity
And everyone is finding inside of each own
For a while for a while

In something that's happening all over the world
Brining to the ground what from inside is true
Footsteps going around to thinking once hurled

And bring to the distance
Every cloud faraway in the deep blue sky
With so much hazy of dreams that will try
With so much hazy of dreams going there by
To bring to the distance

To the goings of my dreams in the faraway
Taking believes to its trail of another day
In the hours that come with each play

In something that's happening all over the world
Brining to the ground what from inside is true
Footsteps going around to thinking once hurled

And bring to the distance
Every cloud faraway in the deep blue sky
With so much hazy of dreams that will try
With so much hazy of dreams going there by
To bring to the distance

And bring to the distance
Every cloud faraway in the deep blue sky
With so much hazy of dreams that will try
With so much hazy of dreams going there by
To bring to the distance

And bring to the distance
Every cloud faraway in the deep blue sky
In the deep blue sky


*(Remember this is a lyric... The other part of my writing output is lyric writing and its as large as my poetry writing. However my largest output is writing music... Please Google 'Peter S. Quinn' If you’d like to see more. Thanks for your time. Peter)

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The blue sky in my home

The blue sky in my home

Good morning, bird
Good morning, sun

The blue sky in my home
I miss in my every day
For my clothes wet
To be dry

Good morning, bird
Good morning, sun

I miss you singing in the morning
When the sun rising
I miss you singing in the morning
When my mom cooking

The blue sky the singing bird the sun rising
Before I leaving
Praying to raise up my dreaming


Kadilangu, feb/03/2oo8

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On A Hill Under The Blue Sky

On a hill under the blue sky
Your body once did bend under sin,
for long moments my glance were set tense,
did your crucifixion cling to me,

and I trusted my life anew to You,
while below Jerusalem baked in the sun.
On a hill under the blue sky
Your body once did bend under sin,

while I watched that city for moments,
and everything in the future I wanted to do with You,
in my ears was every curse and scolding
that after thousands of years still clings to the place
on a hill under the blue sky.

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The Blue Sky

(pal waaktaar)
I find it hard to breathe
As life just eats away
At the faces that surround me
They look tired today
The lady at my table
Doesn't want me here
I just want to talk to her
But would she laugh at my accent
And make fun of me
It doesn't seem like this
Blue sky's here for me
There are no girls in here
As far as i can see
Only pin-up posters
Looking down at me
Watching papercups of coffee
Growing cold before my eyes
All the things i see
That make me realize
I'm in this big world without you
Nothing to my name
I never knew that
Blue sky meant such pain
I'm dying to be different
In the coffee shop
I've lived on borrowed strength
Now my supplies are cut
Though i'm older than my looks
And older than my years
I'm too young to take on
My deepest fears
Oh, i used to be confused
But now i just don't know
Since you left i've been watching
Blue skies come and go

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Kiss The Future

Forgiveness and mercy. in short supply. so lonely, so
Faithful. no reason why. in my mind at this time. just clear
Blue sky. your story just starting. now learn to fly.
It takes a miracle to make you see. my consciousness
Exploded.
Your past life. dont suit you. take my hand. kiss the future.
Let fortune. uproot you. take my hand. kiss the future.
No time now for sorrow. meet life full-blast. lets take on
Tomorrow. forget the past.
It takes a miracle to make you see. my consciousness
Exploded.
Your past life. dont suit you. take my hand. kiss the future.
Let fortune. uproot you. take my hand. kiss the future.
It takes a miracle to make you see. my consciousness
Exploded.
Your past life. dont suit you. take my hand. kiss the future.
Let fortune. uproot you. take my hand. kiss the future.
This is what you came here for. stop the engine slam the
Door. leave that lonesome corridor.
Take the plunge and wipe the slate. smile your smile -
Youre feeling great. soon youre going to celebrate.
Time has gone to hesitate. nothing now can make you
Wait. take control of your own fate.
Take tomorrow in your hand. make the others understand.
One break you must demand.
Your past life. dont suit you. take my hand. kiss the future.
Let fortune. uproot you. take my hand. kiss the future.

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This Could Be The Start Of Something Big

Youre walkin along the street, or youre at a party,
Or else youre alone and then you suddenly dig,
Youre looking in someones eyes, you suddenly realize
That this could be the start of something big.
Youre lunching at twenty-one and watchin your diet,
Declining a charlotte russe, accepting a fig,
When out of a clear blue sky, its suddenly gal and guy,
And this could be the start of something big.
Theres no controlling the unrolling of your fate, my friend,
Who knows whats written in the magic book.
But when a lover you discover at the gate my friend,
Invite her in without a second look.
Youre up in an aeroplane or dining at sardis,
Or lying at malibu alone on the sand,
You suddenly hear a bell, and right away you can tell
That this could be the start of something grand.
This could be the start of something very big,
Why dont you play your part?
Please give your heart to me....and see.
This could be the start of something wonderful,
Why dont you take a chance?
Just try romance with me....and see.
Your watchin the sun come up and countin your money,
Or else in a dim cafe youre ordering wine,
Then suddenly there he is, and you wanna be where he is,
And this must be the start of something...
This could be the heart of something...
This could be the start of something big.

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Like The Breeze, Like A Storm

I ain’t easy to live with
Some say its bloody hard
My life’s a keyboard
And sometimes a guitar
I’ve lived every note from the heart

Without love, life is empty
Like the clear blue sky, sometimes you need a little rain
Take my heart, take it empty,
Fill it with your love, then give it back again
And in return I’ll touch you like the breeze and ravish you like a storm

I ain’t easy to live with
Some say its bloody hard
My life’s a keyboard
And sometimes a guitar
I’ve lived every note from the heart

Without thoughts, you are empty
Like the bird that flies, sometimes you need the earth
Take my mind, take it empty,
Fill it with everything, give it birth and everything you have come to know
And in return I’ll touch you like the breeze and ravish you like a storm

Each dropp of water that falls to the ground
Makes its own unique sound
Each star that flickers deep into the night
Send a note of pure delight

Without love, life is empty
Like the clear blue sky, sometimes you need a little rain
Take my heart, take it empty,
Fill it with your love, then give it back again
And in return I’ll touch you like the breeze and ravish you like a storm

I ain’t easy to live with
Some say its bloody hard
My life’s a keyboard
And sometimes a guitar
I’ve lived every note from the heart

Copyright Colin Coplin 2010 / 20111

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Patrick White

If You Had Any Compassion For Yourself

If you had any compassion for yourself,
others wouldn't have to suffer for you
and the world wouldn't show you
such a sad, woeful, wounded face.
You wouldn't see the withering leaves
and petals of the rose in autumn
as merely the scar tissue of its thorns.
In winter, mend your severance.
In spring, attend to your joys.
Like fishing nets and snow fences.
Like delphiniums in a garden bed
that's beginning to bloom like a starmap.

And you know that stranger inside
that's always witnessing everything we do
like a perfectly clear mirror, even in dreams?
Take another look, you might be surprised
at whose face you see at a meeting of eyes.

It's important not to pass judgement on yourself
for fear of condemning the world.
Show me a mirage that isn't a friend to water
or a wishing-well that resents a rainbow
for the pot of gold at the end, though
no one ever knows which end at the time.

Be kind to your delusive paradigms of life,
as you would an old skin you shed like the moon
when your serpent-fire could no longer contain itself
and broke out of its sacred chrysalis like a dragonfly
that had made itself a house of life out of matchsticks
and went up in flames like a snake with wings.

If you could see your life for what it is,
a teaching device for mentoring your own enlightenment
you might read the books of all the sages
rooted and flowering in you like the wisdom of a seed,
or the star in the ore of a panspermic universe
that was planted in you like the garden you've been from birth.

You might think that the wildflowers
are looking up at the stars to understand themselves
but, in truth, they're looking up at their roots
like rain reveres the lightning that engenders it.

You don't need to convince the wind of your freedom,
you've just got to ride it out to the end,
a friend to yourself, a worthy companion,
the intimate familiar of a cloud with a clear blue sky
or a subliminal lover of the darkness
love mushrooms up in like a moonrise.

If you knew how to nurture yourself
by breaking bread with the spirit of life within you
there wouldn't be millions of children
all over the world who will go hungry tonight.
They'd be licking the spoon with stealthy laughter
like cookie-batter out of the begging bowl of your heart.

Enlightenment isn't going to add one ray of light
or a single star to the night you're already shining in,
and whatever wavelength you're on, regardless
of the mystic polarities your potential flows between,
like dark matter and light, whether the journey you're on
is orange or infrared or the blue white violet of the Pleiades,
absorption or emission spectrum alike, no wave
of thought or mind, light, heart or water
is discontinuous with the oceanic consciousness
they rise upon, so why turn back to the source
like a solar flare to ask for directions from a starmap
that sent you out like a bubble in the multiverse to look for land.
You know, if you were more of an explorer
without a preconceived destination, more
of a space probe leaving the solar system periodically,
the rest of us wouldn't feel so lost or out of place at your table.

And even if you've made a vehicle
of the wheel of birth and death
and think you have a firm grasp on things
with your arm out the window in the driver's seat,
enjoying the passing view with the wind in your hair
without clinging to anything along the way
it still might be a good idea to learn how
to come down off your throne like a pauper
and change a flat tire now and again.

Your life is not an untimely interruption of eternity.
The eternal sky does not inhibit the flight of the white clouds,
and it even bends down sometimes toward the earth
to pick up Venus like a lost earring in the sunset.
It's your point of view that turns your back on yourself
like the retrograde motion of Mars, not
the planet itself playing rope tricks with your spinal cord.

Why go looking for your mind
like a lighthouse with a flashlight,
a flame for the source of the fire
or a star for the constellation it belongs to,
or the homeless for a home when everyone's
the foundation stone of their own habitation
wherever they are at the moment.

If you chase the wind, it will be you
that loses its breath like the atmosphere of the moon.
And when you run out of air, breathe light, breathe space,
and don't try to fix an expanding universe
to your nostrils like a bicycle pump
to get you back on the road again.
Or you'll find you're swimming out of your depths
to run to the rescue of an empty lifeboat
that's already unloaded its contents ashore.

If you don't want to go blind as a starless night
it's prescient to eclipse your blazing from time to time,
turn the lights down low, snuff the candle,
and learn to see in the dark there's just as much reflected
in the depths of the dark abundance
of a black mirror, though it takes time to focus,
than there is in the expansiveness
of the bright vacancy of the white
that takes things in at a glance.
The seed of a every glimpse of insight contains
the whole of the vision in advance,
and at the core of the apple of the issue
is a green star with dark auburn eyes
on the nightshift of the maternity wards of spring.

And o come on now, how long can you hang on
to being this box kite on a string
watching another phoenix ride your thermals
like inspiration on the wing, without feeling
like the premature ghost of yourself at the onset of spring,
all smoke, and no fire, your flightfeathers smouldering
like a pyre of wet maple leaves who haven't got the courage
to break into flames and flap their wings and rise above it all.
Better to be a weather balloon losing altitude like Icarus
or even a candling parachute taking the fall for all of us,
as daring said feathers and falling took flight,
than not risk falling through the black holes of life to paradise?

And what if I were to tell you're they're just the pupils
the light enters through like your eyes into your imagination
to be transformed from a visual into a vision,
the visible form into the invisible shining of the spirit
that raises everything in the known and unknown multiverse,
and the trees and the stars, the rocks and the clouds
are all counting on you to do this for them,
because this is what you're here for,
if you've ever wondered,
to raise them up to eye-level
with a human who knows the names of things
like parents know the names of their own children
running toward them down the street. It's how
we were meant to meet and greet the universe.

So if once, just once, for my sake, your sake, the sake
of the forsaken with their elbows on the windows of the world tonight
watching it all go by like stars on the firewalks beneath their noses,
that are not embedded in cement like a mausoleum
of movie-stars that refused to become fossils
before their shining was spent,
you took a chance, and that's all it would take,
one step forward with no return address,
to risk falling down at the dance,
and seven times down, eight times up,
such is life, get up on your own two good feet again
and discover you've got wings and spurs on your heels
the rest of us wouldn't feel so lame
when we came over to your place
like a riot of erratic fireflies to celebrate
the lightning moves of the rain that's dancing on our graves
where the dead lie down like the corpses of candles
knowing they'll be reincarnated
as wildflowers and Luna moths
because nothing that's ever given its life up
to this business of shining on everything alike
from a first magnitude star, to the night light in the hall
that shoos the ghosts away from their portraits on the wall
so the whole world can bloom in the tears of your eyes,
the fire in your heart, and in the human divinity
of the spirit of your imagination, can ever be put out
because every shadow of doubt
leads back the light that cast it
in love and sorrow, time and space
like the life and death mask of your own face.

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Patrick White

All That I Could Wish For You

All that I could wish for you or anyone else
is more than I could attain for myself.
So far from home for so long
as if home were the alibi
that put the distance between me and a lie
I got sick of telling myself
to feel I belonged somewhere to some people
who might look up from the compass
of what they’re doing once and awhile
into the thirty-six years of my absence
and care that I’m not there anymore.
So I wish you a door that opens
before you need to knock.
And a thief in a window you leave unlocked
so he can steal your heart like sterling silver
and pawn it off as moonlight.
I suspect most people are way too clever
to ever be loved the way they want to be
and I’m not saying that I’ve never been graced
by the mystery
of waking up beside someone I loved
dreaming next to me
about things I know nothing of
because love keeps its deepest secrets to itself
like water on the moon
but I wish you the purest of fountains
from the sweetest wellsprings of life
that don’t look upon the reflections of the clouds
or the leaves and birds that come to sip from its glass
as just another mouthful of polluted words
indelible as headlines
disposable as trash.
My light’s been bent
by a lot of black holes and gravitational eyes
in the five billion light years its taken to get here
like a past I almost forgot I had
and I’m not saying that’s bad
though its relatively slow
compared to the speed of thought
that overtook it like a hawk
coming down on a morning dove.
But I wish you the immensity of a clear night sky
it will take you forever to disappear in
because of all the things
you can learn to say good-bye to in this world
the hardest farewell to master is love.
I’ve always been grateful
for the gifts I’ve been given
and endeavoured like any other B.C. salmon
to make a gift of a gift
by swimming upstream
like a waterclock doubling back on its way to the sea.
Like the retrograde motion of Mars
there may be loops and nooses and garottes in my orbit
and small raw pieces of my heart I used
to bait the trapline
to catch and skin the fishers
that kept killing my cats when I lived on a farm
not very far from here
without meaning any harm to the wildlife
that accepted me as one of their own
and like I did them
left me alone.
Except for the fishers.
So I wish you a free passage through life
where every breath you take
adds another inch of feather to the wind
like a mindstream flowing into an older river of stars
with wild irises blooming along its banks
like blue flames of hydrogen
that stick their tongues in each others’ ears
as if they had something to say to one another
like lovers and celestial spheres
and oceans in a seashell
not well-intentioned highways lined with roadkill
like the primrose path to hell that most of us take
like a short cut back to a worse mistake
than the one we made to get here.
Most of my life
I’ve felt like a fluke of the truth
that was able to win out against
the astronomical odds
of my small chances of having the courage
to stand up for it like a strong voice
in a lottery of echoes
but fortunately I’ve always been
self-destructive enough
to risk everything in the name of nothing
I’ve ever seen
but sensed was near and clear to me
like a warm spring rain on a dirty window pane
like the gardens of ice
that grew out of my breath
like the tendrils of ferns unfurling
like the treble clefs of blue violins
in a sad exiled place
where the truth was music to my ears
that fell like the sound of rain from home on my roots
but felt like all the shattered chandeliers and broken mirrors
had gone into diaspora.
A crystal nacht of jackboots
refused to see the whole
reflected in every part of me as in them
like the yellow star
of the myriad-eyed conspiracy theory
that out shone the black hole they wanted to bury it in
like something you could catch
and put in your pocket
and save for a rainy day
like a ghetto or a bank to bail you out
whenever they got so fanatically deep into themselves
everything they felt
everything they had to say
was a debt to someone
they couldn’t possibly repay
even if they could turn
the bad luck of their swastikas the other way
like the prayer wheel of a poisonous flower
like hate mail disguised as a loveletter
even the wind and the light refused to answer.
So I wish you the mindscape and spirituality
of a generous country with a big sky
where the constellations have no nationality
other than free access to the great sea of awareness beyond
that reflects all the colours of the colour blind stars
and makes them feel they’ve made it home
as soon as their light arrives
like honey bees without borders
to open the flowers
like the passports of Japanese plum blossoms
that travel without i.d. anywhere they want
like the billions upon billions of fingerprints
that never lie about our common humanity
to anyone who needs to ask
who we all belong to
if it isn’t each other
and where we all come from
if it wasn’t from the same dark mother.
Poetry has been the most ardent folly of my crazy wisdom
for as long as I’ve known how to weep and wonder
in joy and sorrow
at the mystery and the horror
of what’s arrayed before us here
with such immensity
even time feels small in its presence.
Keats once said load every rift with ore
and so I have
but the greatest discipline of my calling
the gravest risk
the royal quatternio of Orphic alchemy
in the hands of a master shapeshifter
in the smile of a sacred clown
has been to approach the shining
without turning gold into a base metal.
To taste the water without fouling the well I drew it from.
To look at the stars without getting in their eyes.
To pursue an earthly excellence
that expressed the human divinity
that was born of suffering in everyone
without giving offense to the transcendentalists
who like to keep their gods unattainable
because I could see its immanence
was a lot closer to them
than they were to it.
I could see it in the hunch-back baglady
sorting through a garbage can at four in the morning
for the hidden jewel she was sure to find
if she looked deep enough.
I could see it in myself from time to time
when my mind strayed like a white horse
with an odd-shaped birthmark
in the middle of its forehead
because it wasn’t born lucky enough to be a logo
into the star fields of my reclusive neighbour
like the constellation Pegasus
through a gap in a fallen fence
and she was there to lead it back like a muse
along the Road of Ghosts
and you could tell by the smile on her face
that she’d always met me this way
and that there was nothing supernatural
in what she wasn’t trying to hide.
I can see it in you like light in a lamp
that isn’t cagey enough to keep a dove in
even if it wanted to
and its as clear as fireflies on a starless night
that it can’t and it won’t and it doesn’t.
So I wish for you a long love affair
with a passion you can’t marry.
A calling that doesn’t have your name on it
because it doesn’t belong to anyone
but loves the sound of your voice in the stairwell
whether you’re coming or going
and the picture-music you set it to
like morning glory on the moon
to let life speak through you in dead earnest
as if you were wholly possessed by the play
of the hero’s entrance
and the villain’s exit
though you know they’re both taking
a standing ovation in the same doorway.
I wish you the sublimity of a single blade of grass
and a darkness as profound as the shadow of an ant
and a heart like a bell of sorrows so sweet and deep
even in a single tear
its way out of its depths.
And in the evening just before the stars come out
and Venus is following
the last crescent of the moon
down in the west
having wandered as far as it dares from the sun
I wish you a soul so expansive and radiant with light
all the nights to come can’t help making
enlightened gestures of glee
toward the court jesters
who illuminate your crown with laughter
like waterlilies that shine up at everyone
out of their dark wisdom
and their artistic genius for working with water
like a Zen master amusing himself
with paper boats that float
like the moon on the mindstream
knowing there’s nowhere to go
nothing to do
no one to be
and no one to set free.
Because the people all know
there’s never been a river
that doesn’t lead to the sea
or a hand or a brush or a pen
following its own cursive script
like the holy book of a lost art
that isn’t written in blood
but makes itself up as it flows along
like a spiral galaxy without a star map
all the way to the heart.
And once the lightning’s rooted in your mind
and blossoms like fireflies
in a garden of insight
I wish you never a thought
whatever the mode of expression
whatever the fashion
whatever the theme
the scheme
the dream
that doesn’t tend like all lucidity
to sweeten the fruits of compassion.

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