The Words That Could Be There
Content
The Words That Could Be There (Pictures I took on various trips I have made through time itself Although at the time, I had no words for what I saw, though What I saw had words for me in a language I barely knew.)
Sometimes in life, a lone flower is all it takes To splash cheer in our dusty throats, to point To that which is magnificent, to recognize That sometimes you don’t want to be picked.
The deep cuts we feel May hurt, but see the beauty From time and weather.
1
Who watches who? Gripping the bars of life For all we have, In order (and order is crucial) To steady ourselves. That’s fine, But make sure You look around. Someone’s watching And there are things That demand to be seen.
Even those in the shadows Have a purpose, providing support, Contrast, depth For those in the warm castled spotlight.
2
A spindle, dead and climbling towards heaven At the edge of its comfort zone. What’s its story? Is there rhyme and reason to two of them?
3
Being blue is for the birds. Even the bald eagle.
4
Gnarled nerves uprooted Tangled pattern of growth exposing The past that once was, exposing What is no longer here. Or is the essential tree remaining? Does it not still provide life?
5
The ages creep to the inlet Their protracted journey not seen by the human eye Until it lurches forward, in a blink, Unable to stand, much less walk, only float Like a dead man, silent in the still waters.
Out of nothing, Something. Which is nothing if not Anything That mind imagines it to be. Which is, at least, One thing, But not, no, not The only thing.
6
Don’t tell me the heavens won’t descend on us In some coming apocalypse, Closing the view To all but the angels Who ride dark clouds To perch where we no longer live, Where we no longer Raise toasts to what we did, eat, Or mate. White acne’d mountains only hide the approach That is whispered on the air Currents full of reproach To the gray beauty brought along As a giant’s madness. Yeat’s slouch is caught between the saddle Of stones that no longer sleep But cradle the future We sometimes fear.
7
We nestle against the mountains Which stand against time and weather Testimony given to rising days and sinking nights. The eternal golden sunset of a summer day Rides the whispered cloud wisps in front Of the sheltering peak. It is a divine touch In a divine land Where I have been given The midnight sun That always sings In my soul. I should climb a tree The better to watch and sing.
8
The rush to the sea Smoothes all barriers along, Finds happy watchers
9
(Shhhh! King Kong lives here.)
As we go forward, Do we approach the end of it all? Or does the end With soft padded feet, hidden movement and whispered threat, Come for us?
10
Light fingers into the crevices Small and large Ice and rock Blue and green. Frozen and liquid Where shadows hide in fragile time.
11
Laying around just rocks! But nowhere can we go, it seems, without eyes watching.
The white ribbon slashes Against the grain of granite Trees manage to stay out of harm. Watching The spill slipping over the top Slowly fanning to a wider base. “X” marks the spot The very center The treasure heart Of it all.
12
Progress tilts. We go forward But sometimes To the side Just a little The latticed steel The nerves Required It’s all required To get to there From here. Getting there Is important.
Thankfully we have had guardians To watch over us
. In the middle of it all, even today
13
Though we might despair At what tumbles over in life Through the mist of tears We might see a rainbow Given enough time And sun. The end of one plateau Is the beginning of another roving river. So Go where those in wooden barrels Have never feared To tumble. Just cross your fingers for luck
14
The end is often the best part The last seen evidence of the beast Returning to its depths, Our minds thrilling to see the place where “Here there be monsters” Although Who has turned out to be The monsters When all is said and done? Never mind that. Just snap the picture For god’s sake!
15
Sometimes in life, a lone flower is all it takes To splash cheer in our dusty throats, to point To that which is magnificent, to recognize That sometimes you don’t want to be picked.
The deep cuts we feel May hurt, but see the beauty From time and weather.
1
Who watches who? Gripping the bars of life For all we have, In order (and order is crucial) To steady ourselves. That’s fine, But make sure You look around. Someone’s watching And there are things That demand to be seen.
Even those in the shadows Have a purpose, providing support, Contrast, depth For those in the warm castled spotlight.
2
A spindle, dead and climbling towards heaven At the edge of its comfort zone. What’s its story? Is there rhyme and reason to two of them?
3
Being blue is for the birds. Even the bald eagle.
4
Gnarled nerves uprooted Tangled pattern of growth exposing The past that once was, exposing What is no longer here. Or is the essential tree remaining? Does it not still provide life?
5
The ages creep to the inlet Their protracted journey not seen by the human eye Until it lurches forward, in a blink, Unable to stand, much less walk, only float Like a dead man, silent in the still waters.
Out of nothing, Something. Which is nothing if not Anything That mind imagines it to be. Which is, at least, One thing, But not, no, not The only thing.
6
Don’t tell me the heavens won’t descend on us In some coming apocalypse, Closing the view To all but the angels Who ride dark clouds To perch where we no longer live, Where we no longer Raise toasts to what we did, eat, Or mate. White acne’d mountains only hide the approach That is whispered on the air Currents full of reproach To the gray beauty brought along As a giant’s madness. Yeat’s slouch is caught between the saddle Of stones that no longer sleep But cradle the future We sometimes fear.
7
We nestle against the mountains Which stand against time and weather Testimony given to rising days and sinking nights. The eternal golden sunset of a summer day Rides the whispered cloud wisps in front Of the sheltering peak. It is a divine touch In a divine land Where I have been given The midnight sun That always sings In my soul. I should climb a tree The better to watch and sing.
8
The rush to the sea Smoothes all barriers along, Finds happy watchers
9
(Shhhh! King Kong lives here.)
As we go forward, Do we approach the end of it all? Or does the end With soft padded feet, hidden movement and whispered threat, Come for us?
10
Light fingers into the crevices Small and large Ice and rock Blue and green. Frozen and liquid Where shadows hide in fragile time.
11
Laying around just rocks! But nowhere can we go, it seems, without eyes watching.
The white ribbon slashes Against the grain of granite Trees manage to stay out of harm. Watching The spill slipping over the top Slowly fanning to a wider base. “X” marks the spot The very center The treasure heart Of it all.
12
Progress tilts. We go forward But sometimes To the side Just a little The latticed steel The nerves Required It’s all required To get to there From here. Getting there Is important.
Thankfully we have had guardians To watch over us
. In the middle of it all, even today
13
Though we might despair At what tumbles over in life Through the mist of tears We might see a rainbow Given enough time And sun. The end of one plateau Is the beginning of another roving river. So Go where those in wooden barrels Have never feared To tumble. Just cross your fingers for luck
14
The end is often the best part The last seen evidence of the beast Returning to its depths, Our minds thrilling to see the place where “Here there be monsters” Although Who has turned out to be The monsters When all is said and done? Never mind that. Just snap the picture For god’s sake!
15
