TOMORROW
Somewhere
perhaps very near
The fairies are dancing tonight
If you put out a little food
they will mend your shoes
and tomorrow you can join them
Monthly Archives: March 1997
DRAGONS
DRAGONS
Beyond the maps of the ancient world
“There, be dragons”
Beyond the ways of parents and of peers
“There, be dragons”
Beyond the days of preachers and
of teachers
“There, be dragons”
Beyond where you know or
have dared to go
“There, be dragons”
A toe tip, a step, and a stride
Heart, arm and sword,
steeled by the fiery breath
How sweet the dragon’s meat,
and the maiden’s
Another mark on another map
“Here, be dead dragons”
BUTTERFLY
BUTTERFLY
I had this urge to turn
and touch my lips to yours
ever so ever so lightly
My softness to your sweetness
like a butterfly’s
first taste
of
cotton candy
PICTURE TAKING
PICTURE TAKING
The simple people of the earth
do not like to have their pictures taken
They say it captures them
and takes away their souls
If you’ve been with those you love
who still can see you only as you were
And for their own good reasons
need to keep you there
While your every urge of
every breath says grow
Then you’ll know
what the simple people know
THE PANTHER
THE PANTHER
The panther is full of light
which can only be seen
when he moves, or looks into your eyes
Or by those who can see in the dark
If it were not so, the blind could see … and kill him
OUT OF THE NEST
OUT OF THE NEST
(for Carolyn going away to college)
You have the soul of a bird
It’s so joyful, light and fair
and now it’s flying to a world
that the frightened people share
And I pray you safe
when they see you there
Drawing water from mirages
For the flowers
round your castles in the air
LUCK
LUCK
There are days
when rabbits run
to rub their feet on me
And days
when the word goes out
among black cats
that it would not be wise
to cross my path
SACRIFICE
SACRIFICE
The Kubla Khan’s from minds
broken loose by
and all too soon broken by drugs.
The alcohol that so many have found as
the key to their heaven and their hell.
And all the wounds of daily battles with
truths wrestled to a fall
Makes me wonder if writers
like mothers
and forests
sometimes lay down their bodies
that their children
may grow
RESTLESS
RESTLESS
I’ve followed a hundred paths
each one leading me deeper
and though I’m not yet awake
at least I’m a restless sleeper
ERIK BLOMBERG
ERIK BLOMBERG
“That one might be translated into light and song”
– Erik Blomberg
And yet the fear, the fear
always the fear that we
may loose something
in the translation