Reaching

None of the other tulip flowers
Has been as singular as this one
Bruised beetroot ruddy red layers
Lit at the tips by silver morning sun
It reaches out on steady stem swaying
Nodding in the air its head as if to say
My cup stretches catches light playing
Through my depths adoring this day
But my neck is strong leaning long
From the heavy bowl holding my body
And I open to death gladly scarlet song
Of my surrender my breathing nodding
Upturned clapper of a bell tolling the time
When these petals will fully open fall away
Break against a wall crucible of will chime
In resonant waves radiating reach to eternity

Home Pome In The Morning

On my mind in the morning
Was the fact that I learned
That it wasn’t that
(That) the tap was much tighter
After the plumber came –
Than that it was
That my habit was still
To turn the knob tighter
As it used to have been
When it was stiff to turn
Before the plumber had been –
And so in an aha
I didn’t turn it off tight
And it just sat soft and easy
And no water doth run! –
And that it was like meeting
Myself in the past and the present
And learning that I’ve learned
And I can just learn again
About staying in the present
Instead of turning off the tap
Too tightly as I used to do
Back in the day
Before the plumber come
And I was a younger man

 

Inundated Is Not Quite Overwhelmed

Inundated is not quite overwhelmed
But a piling up of syllables
Like parcels at the door in the hallway
Inside the threshhold, under the doormat
Date-stamped, demanding to be unwrapped
Lest their delicate paper clothes be saturated
By the sudden bursting of a pipe in the plumbing.
And all the gifts and well-wishes
All the bills and monthly subscriptions
The bargains bought on eBay and the postcards from afar
The money-back offers and hand-delivered love-notes
Are flooded by an urgency that will not wait.
The stream of time asserts its indifference
To all the chopped-up categories of your life & circumstance
And the blood of one’s being rises up in a bloom
That irrigates and suffuses and will not be refused
And overwhelms – no boundaries unbroken,
No corners uncovered, no dusty dead dreams left dry.
And all the demands and delays, datings and dotings
Are drowned – in a slipstream of sound and spirit.
Bloodwaters in an emergency that unblocks the gates
And I dissolve in the immediacy of this flow
Of the Word spoken speaking and the sound
Given its very human location in this Universe around.
19-3-2016