The leaves are blowing away
Up, up, and away they go.
Swish, swoosh, they go.
Like a dancing ballerina
Up, up and away they go
Way up , in the sky.
The trees standing there,
Their branches all bare.
The wind whistling throughout empty branches,
......
You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.
That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair
......
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Are not the trees green,
The earth as green?
Does not the wind blow,
Fire leap and the rivers flow?
Away melancholy.
The ant is busy
......
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
andI mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...
That I negotiate fog, bituminous
rain rining like teeth into the beggar's tin,
or two men jackaling a third in some alley
weirdly lit by a couch on fire, that I
......
Fragrance night, spicy
Breeze tangoes near tomorrow
to green world stage raves
Howling blues stir lilac dark
Starlight, whistling in the park
Clouds keep on drifting
in times of vanishing moon
It's nature's wild dance
a sultry summer tango
......
Yesterday I was in the parched, red desert, where it pours only seldom,
Bearing joy for varicolored cacti blooms, a silvery shower, very welcome.
This morning I deluged the green, pathless forest, at the dawn of purple.
Tomorrow, wet footsteps will travel, down the tree-lined street of myrtle.
In wild days of ago, my fervor caused floods, as I danced in dewberries;
Then a soft, yellow sun spun rich gold, making cherries and cranberries!
While there is gladness everywhere I go, my sporadic errors humble me,
Like an errant wind which blows off course, tenacious, golden honeybee!
Backdoor wide open
A cream moon is coming in
Softly, like a dream.
Beyond red sun, pearly rays
in a lazy, lilac night.
Howling wind whimsy
'midst the fantasy flowers
in plum, pink and green.
Silver moon, always welcome
......
I was an environmental scientist, working with large wind farm developers,
To harness wind and generate electricity, as a plum sun flees, to tell others.
I worked at helping developers comply, with all environmental regulations;
Minimizing the impact to it and populace, like storm tossed petal situations.
I conducted studies and recommended strategies, to mitigate undue harm,
For wind turbines are good for all earth, like a rouge sun keeping us warm.
Floral fulfillment filled fragrant gardens, after faceted fancies of jade spring.
......
dance
and song
all day long
still for moments
then roaming blooms and fuchsia midnight rooms
restless rapt wind rousing all to tango
in orange mists
of dawn or
scarlet
dusk
......