listen to paul baribeau.
Dream 5/27 (No one ever taught me Augury)
I watch cardinals
covered in frost,
resting their cold,
clawed feet
on the branches
of the bush
i lie beneath,
before flying on east
to warm their weary red wings
in the freshly minted rising sun
darting in and out
from right to left:
i think of beginnings
again
i pull a derelict
wasp nest
out from under my head
and churn a stomach
full of worrisome clouds,
suddenly you’re lying by my side
you have come out
to comfort me
smiling knowingly
as if
all under
standing,
Anima.
Psukhosis
This same wind
doesn’t move you
friend,
pulled by different tides.
This same sun
cannot shine
into your deepest mind.
I worry,
Dark Waters
are already lapping
at the shores of your sanity,
ripples not felt by me;
Sirens,
singing you
to Lethe.
Reblogged from Those with life are born to die
Scavanger Soda,
this is my first batch, i made up the recipe
so i hope that my intuition is in tune
it is made of wild Mulberries and Elderflowers
that i found around my neighborhood
“
I swear to you all, by my mother’s milk,
by the stars that shall fly from tonight’s furnace,
that I loved them, my children, my wife, my home;
I loved them as Poets love the Poetry
that Kills them; as drowned sailors, the sea.
by the stars that shall fly from tonight’s furnace,
that I loved them, my children, my wife, my home;
I loved them as Poets love the Poetry
that Kills them; as drowned sailors, the sea.
— Derek Walcott, “The Schooner Flight”
oh my morphing mind
never see the same cloud twice
rivereverruns
Endless Decay (Deathless Fibers)
No Rest
for the Remedy,
fighting
Endless Decay,
all this unceasing
Upkeep
keep on
keeping up,
or let Time take you
& Turn you
back into Truth
the Deathless Fibers
weaving All Things
Creating
& Destroying
all in One breath
the Essential Respirations
of some
Grand Symphony-Singer,
which lingers
just beyond our
mental thresholds
us wee notes in some
Endless Procession
raindrops in the River,
mere melodies & daydreams
of our Shared Greater Being,
Spinning
in Space
A Lotus Blossoming
on the Black Lotus-Pond
of Void
Reblogged from Also, trains
mulberry wine
come collect
mulberries with me,
my friend,
in the still summer days
we will climb trees,
& play wind,
& rain,
& let the wild berries stain
the faceless-grey sidewalk
black & mauve
& deep, dark grape.
We will squish the blessed berries
beneath our bare, scrubbed feet,
pants rolled up to knees,
we’ll stain our skin
black & mauve
& deep, dark grape
for sunny days on end
if wind permits you
to visit me,
my friend.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Carved Like a Name on Tree Bark
Wind through
your wild hair
you ought to know
how few
feel life as True
as you
the Deeps of your Lungs
your actions
never apart
from the Action
no premeditation
your Words always clear
Never Fear
the World blows through
& you Whistle like a Tunnel
& carry on like a Train
i don’t know
if you ever knew
how few
could feel life
as True
as you
Psukhosis
This same wind
doesn’t move you
friend,
pulled by different tides.
This same sun
cannot shine
into your deepest mind.
I worry,
Dark Waters
are already lapping
at the shores of your sanity,
ripples not felt by me;
Sirens,
singing you
to Lethe.
come paint my fathers house white again, in the heavy, hot humid dogdays and in the evenings we could drink tea on the rooftop, like last time, watching the moon come in over the trees, swaying in a cool wind, cloud colossi dispersing and reforming, shape shifting, glowing pink and crimson in the blue deepening its hue til under the guise of Starry Night we could climb back into my room through the window, to fill up our tea cups once more, and continue conversing on the shaded back patio, bright with moonlight and loud with the arrangements of crickets and those teal sounding night cicadas, a tree frog calling in the pond a good while off
Today, we spread your ashes,
returning your aching dust
back to the riverrun
and share stories
as if it were your wedding day
all those embarrassing memories
making us laugh and laugh
as you are reunited
with the dust of all things
White Summer, Black Mountain Side
Might i,
one day
meet you again
friend?
Down by the
Black Waterside
Swimming in the
Yellow Springs.
Might we laugh
once again
(and again)
old friend,
before we drink
Deep
the waters
of Lethe
Bert Jansch old Irish folk song
One morning fair I took the air
That hung about black waterside
T’was a gazing path all around it
And the Irish that I spied
All through the fog, the heart of the night
We lay in sport and at play
Till this young man arose and gathered his clothes
Singing ‘Fair thee well today!’
That’s not the promise that you gave to me
When first you lay on my breast
You could make me believe with your lying tongue
That the sun rose in the west
And so go home to your fathers garden
Go home and await your fill
And think on your own misfortune
That you brought with your wanton will
One morning fair I took the air
That hung about black waterside
T’was a gazing path all around it
And the Irish that I spied…
(1/27)
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