English Channel in Late Spring

A cold wind is blowing – across blue mysteries
where fabled depths are made – with dreadful histories
the fog that hides our shores – honest beyond distance
reminds us there is more – than water’s resistance

Those sunken tragedies – speak to us in the mist
like lost souls rekindled – struggling to persist
to have their stories told – in hidden waves crashing
a song of desperate need – sung with somber splashing

Gulls and hearts hear those words – cry out in harmony
though the mind binds their mouths – and call it larceny
Why should time take those things – we enjoy in life now
and give them to the past – that we have disavowed?

Those far off shores stay hid – behind veils of regret
while we must remain here – on all our sides beset
by the antiquities – of an empire long dead.
From those sober ashes – we always look ahead.

Ashes

The fire burns absurd colors and strange dances,
Bringing life low, with death it enhances,
Even the lives that were static,
Its embrace can make emphatic,
Oft rekindling ancient romances.

That place, thick with green, where the deer prances,
Where people sing a chorus in stances,
The house between floor and attic,
The fire burns.

After all the slings, arrows and lances,
After all the last great performances,
After all the plans pragmatic,
And madness born from lunatic,
After all is gone save parting glances,
The fire burns.

Catch These Hands

                      Era
                   Upon       era      built      with
                   ideas     made   stone       by
                   those      who    knew      only
                    how        to        use      them,
on               orders   from   those     who
knew           only     how   to swing them,
     as         opposed as the   digits are,
        coming     together   to     grasp
             the    world    and    create
                  structures    so     great
                        that  no  one  sees
                           the      sadness
                            the      blood
                           or    the   guilt
                           thick     within
                          the     substrate.