in honor of the Big Island of Hawaii
a lack of wonderment
things that don’t fit
legions of reckless doubt
a felony of spirit unspent
things that refuse to float
hearts that turn babies away
memories that are untrue
blindness in the face of heaven
words I don’t know how to spell
incandescent Pelé heal these broken limbs
read footnotes about this poem
being a twelve part study on the propagation
of waves in near vacuum realities, or
why is willingness important to rain.
touch. real thirst.
resist. learning loud.
open mouth. drink.
read footnotes about this poem
vision gets intimate with only a half-evenings blush.
standing on the porch looking south. there. you see? half a block
over, what you could easy do in bare feet. round past the white wood
trim shed in back, an open yard, no fence, just imaginary lines.
there. the pocket market and gas. Bill’s.
neon brights in the half-dusk-dark. a yellow billboard with red ink
letters. the door a shadow indent. behind, silhouette trees make
the horizon seem high above the conjured water line.
there’s a rocket in my backyard sky.
tonight we’re going to the moon. count my toes. leap that far.
tonight we’ve a thin white feather and red tail shaped like wind.
we are leaning into sky.
moon & me will be in the same sentence soon.
breathless life. was it the same before?
moving. moving fast. here we go.
hold my hand.
one from a gathering of personal snapshots, taken by residents, of shuttle-craft launches. I am immersed within by their ordinary intimacy of a shared exceptional experience.
I am my own gravity.
night Moon is my kin.
stars nest in my palms. I know each by name.
same as water does.
morning Sun sees summer when it finds my face.
rivers tell me all they hear.
I drink their listening. following.
birds call out my real name.
wind carries breath farther than my arms.
you breathe me, even if you don’t know.
I breathe your sky across far broad seas.
trees, they don’t change my path.
rivers, I can wade them all.
landscape measures itself by my strides.
I lean into blue sky, trusting as you would
trust rivers to seek their grace in stone.
trails in wilderness follow my feet.
birds sing to me how they die. I carry
these hymns home to their nest.
here, boats sewn to the shore by threads.
I make waves that bring them fish.
of this realm what doing is most dear to me?
I’ll follow you.
follow till you see I am loving you.
do you hear? one wall plus more than three and a roof within.
that’s how it arrives. inside first.
many voices offer names. none are taken home. instead,
willow cloud petal thirst. bright and bright.
meaning less. more free.
these received are your face in all the shades of light and sleep.
oh stillness beside. here, these hands.
two palms will rend the drought. and you, you within.
no one is following.
where there’s no echo there’s no shoe.
footprints act circular as viewed from below.
here the bowl. here a spoon.
since when mother was the shadow of falling leaves.
I am that river too, inside myself.
empty never is. six walls, you see?
brush in hand. paint to begin.
the answer to joy is life
the answer to sadness is being
the answer to promise is spirit
the answer to pain is love
for Sadie, 2016 november