AsI Sing
As I sing
The sky fills rich with joy
Birds diving from the breathless heights
Like giant, winged lions
flying through the clouds so coy
Through the haze
Of the young morning's maze.
As I sing
The ground trembles with fire's ring
Like a warrior lifting its spear
To defeat the rage
Of the morning's bite
Wildly growing from the night.
As I sing
The winds of the day
Rap me
In its warm arms
In its very special way
And its very special charms
The morning invites me to stay
In a very special way
I sing
I dare to sing
Despite all that has happened.
Beginning at the End
Though you only dream
Of senior citizens bathing in the rain
That you will someday be
And have always been repulsed by the sweet smelling girlboys
Standing tall at the gates
Unknowing of their doom
You smile
Always smiling
Nothing will ever change
Not that way
So
Maybe you do not want to discuss the last breath
(I scream without explanation)
And this, too, shall pass
As it always has passed
If you want to discuss it or not
Pleasant fantasies ARE in our inventory
And for our delight
Even though continued ware is still imminent
Without noticing such tragedies
We speak lines as if from old Broadway songs
To explain our obsessions
And try to look as if we enjoy this game
You gradually learn to love your body gently
As if you were being graded
We could each pretend to be someone else
If this helps
Perhaps priestly delights
Can settle
But we did promise to understand
The same
Even as we do not speak of it
We roll up our sleeves
And defy all odds
That we would not survive
You read me a list of possible perversions
Certainly the programmers of pleasure
Make fun of such shy lovers
Listening to the bedsprings howl
Surely we knew that this magic would happen
That our hearts would try to tame the acid rain
While pretending to be someone else
If you must
Reach for the music
As one only can in the morning
Dance with your clothes on
With such a bashful wiggle
If you must
Alone in your robin ruined nest
Then when finished
You will ask for a cigarette
Only lonely people
Want the jazz age with a violinist
Who is having trouble breathing
Because of too much smoking
But why should a violinist need to breathe?
Still
You don't seem to care
That I want your out-of-date hair styles
Nor that I can't dance
But often only pretend to pretend to be happy
Which does keep my voice from trembling
I want you to touch my lips
You will hear a symphony
I believe
Anything of value is magic
And without explanation
Nothing ever changes
In this world of constant change
While we agree on little
And think we agree on everything
We are forever changing
As the moment comes
Like it or not
Close your eyes
Ride the coaster through its tracks
And speak in tongues
While the city burns around us
One learns to love even death
If there is no choice
You can sail off the earth's end
If you must
Look what winter has fiercely done to the daisies
the old man's tree swing
Once a cathedral for his raindance
Now a roosting place for birds
Taste me
Do it today
Not tomorrow
Without fearing the darkness
We have been here before
Deafened by Freud's dreams
Don't let me love you from a distance
Without crying
For this isn't love
Swim in the guns and butter
Tangled in your hair
We create an embrace and fall into it
While the silent crocodiles begin to weep
Circling for the kill
Oh, those piercing eyes.
As for mercy in the morning
The evening is too late
I embrace for the worst
Can you still pretend that you are still yourself
Shamelessly seeking such mercy
In the black ink of old newspaper clippings?
I can blame it on the night
For then it doesn't matter
But this gift isn't yours to give
Touch my sounds
The guttural rolls of my throat
The dripping girgles of my inabilities
And yet you insist on walking in your sleep
through these wonders
In this strange world
Again
Show me your wings
And I will show you my breath
Your dreamer predicted this
Hold my hand and we will fly
Tell me that you love me in the morning
For the evening is still too late
I smell your strange perfume on my breath
Always dreaming
Before breathing
Fear the spirits of wealth
For it's a trap
Fill me with sorrow
And I will sing you a song
Listen to the faucet drip
Before it's too late
Do it slowly
Methodically
While death can still be laughed at
And not peck at our swing
Pleasure and pain seem to be our journey
But we can't wait
Tie your dreams to the tail of a kite
And jump from the ledge
I lost my name in the woods in the pile of moss
And can't fly
As a stack of lightening cut branches
Hide my broken wings
I dream you will leave
Old dreams
But I must fearlessly speak to you of love
Silently I sing to you
As the quiet descent of a falling star
Every time
Is always the first
No one else cares
But we try to see
The second time
In the arena of old movie scripts
The third time
And still no sound
Allow me to make you an offer
Recite a line
Forgive those who have wronged us
The fourth time
No sound
But the pecking of the birds at the empty old man's swing
The world seems so new in his absence
Among the vacant robin nests
Wisps of smoke
Roll across the scape
Setting me on fire
To the tune of the gentle minuet
We had forgotten each other
Forgotten how to sing
And now there is so little time..
Celeste
Celeste, the young dame
Had a sister named Rose
Who was misnamed
For it is Celeste who is the Rose
As Rose should have been named stone,
For a rose, is a rose, is a rose
baptized Celeste
Their holy father in all his misgodlyness
Stole her being
And Joe and dad left her for dead
And this little beaming star
Sat in the mud
Muddled and unaware of her noble birthright
Looking into the wisps of the dew
And seeing only weeds.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Have I the right to live at all?
Like discarded toys
She lay broken
In the arms of evil
As these sightless voices ran their boats
And gave their sermons
Only in the secrecy of their hearts stopping to admire their ability
To turn gold into coal
But almost unnoticed
At first just the gasp of a cough
The first tear of her unbreakable will on her cheek
Then whole movements
This jewel willed herself from the mud
Unbeaten by the evil
And unbroken by the spiritless father
She rises
Her scent evident to everyone
Touched by her magic
For a rose, is a rose, is a rose is always a rose
Is a wonder
Is enchantment
Is Celeste.
Credo
We console ourselves when there is not more chocolate
With dreams
And see the truth
Only in the ways art can tell us
About the misplaced world
In which we live
I do not understand this dream
But only feel it.
Dedication to MOURNING SONGS for orchestra
Daddy died
And the Jewless boy couldn't mourn
His deprived
And shapeless ego
Without a song
To bury the dead
The faceless boy
Dug his ditches for his pennies
But could not feel the hole in his chest
Could not look into the coffin like a man
And take the cold hands into his own
Then the messenger called
And the second king lay over the hill out of sight
Only then could the boy put on his warrior's paint
To face his tasks
To look into the coffin
And feel the crying pain in his chest
To take the cold hands into his own
And bury his father
As men do.
Holy, Holy, Holy
aria from the dance-opera JESUS' DAUGHTER
Hush, little baby
That can't be free
Hush, baby hush
Don't cry
Your daddy takes your life
As your mother watches you die
So hush, little baby
Life was never yours to be
And you don't know why.
Holy, holy, holy
Daddy is God's messenger
And touches you
Touches you with the light
Yet you sit so melancholy
My holy child
How many get to be Jesus' Daughter?
This is your birthright,
Yet you sit so melancholy.
Holy, holy, holy
By all that is holy
forced to be his wife
At the cost of your life.
Impromptu
She stood tall with her lizard-like skin
unafraid of the scorching sun
yet I felt sorry for her
the way one might feel sorry for an ant
before stepping on it.
Nightfall sailed like a lanky insurance salesman
unafraid of the barking dogs
but I only could pine for her
as they lunch on the dead ants.
Last Moments
I hate the thought
Of doing anything
For the last time
EVEN
Vomiting
Longing
You
Missed as the very
Breath of life
Bouncing
Bubbly ways
Never a moment
To boredom
In your shadow
Miss
The long, floating eyes
And sensual silences
The fevered evenings
Then the morning's blanket
So, to your adventures
And wonderings in the dark
I wait by our rock
To breathe again.
Longing Remembered
Small, gentle breaths
Gentle eyes
Embarrassed by years
And shadows of undone deeds
Feeling much pain
And even more joy
Small, gentle gestures
Only that blood can share
With restrained excitement
Under the rough and torn
Caring
Small, gentle eyes
Gentle breaths
Gone.
Me
As affairs unfold
i
ARE a nobody
OH
But
i am an important
NOBODY
MEDITATIONS
The softness of a new baby's skin
gently dipped in warmed water
like the light begging at the end
of the tunnel
she cried
but she cried for joy
for inside there is no pain
inside there is only the joy
of a wake
of jassing until the wail of the dawn
Now comfort enough.
MOMENTS 1981
In my dreams the wife slayers
Feast on my flesh
And hell is the only exit
In a moment of perfection
I am able to slay them
With misquotes from history
Now I understand
Yet to come
Is the best of all possible worlds.
Remembering
Home isn't
Streets twisting anew
Laundries and car washes
Humping what was virgin grass
A once baby city
Now plump with middle age
From the fountain of restaurants
A rouged hussy
With wide
Wagging hips
Righteous Moments
We all
Want to pet the lions
And stare into the sun
But unfortunately
Remain chained to the counter as laborers
Particularly the overgrown boys
Who are blind and deaf.
Jivin'
Needs to be watched
Because its magic is its movement
Its shouting at the devil
Over the whispers of the fields
Drifting in the morning air
Desperately fighting
To breathe even once
Before evening comes.
The wild man romps in the attic
We feel his ritual
And the life that it gives
Over the three piece suits
Hairless bodies
And flat faces
Song
Unlocks his cage
If we dare.
Today
TODAY
I KILLED A FLY
and wept
then killed another.
Velvet Glaciers
THE WINGLESS PHOENIX
He lay
still
quiet, not moving
the hairs on his face real and apparently alive
the mists of snow dripping from his nose and chin
covering him like white, crystal ashes
only his head protruded from the prayer shawl
rapping his cold body
I expected him to shiver
and blow frosty air from his nostrils
his eyes closed
his lips slightly pursed as if trying to speak
as if he knew it was to be his last breath
as if he was trying to scream
to finally say those last things
that we can never say when alive
The coffin was made only of fine woods
no metals for the dying Jew
just the clear shine of hand-carved sapwoods
cool to the eye
glistening in the darkness of the chilling night
like a warm, tightly fitting glove
it held him in its artificial womb
in the quiet broken only by the whispering of the cooling winds
keeping him asleep with its soothing lullabies
as if the winds were to stop their song
he would leap from his birth and live again
wingless and ground born
I quietly anticipate his flight.
THE SINGING SILENCE
then came the morning hymns
chanting ditties to the budding flora
reaching their long limbs to the sky
like young, flexing muscles
the clouds accompanied with its serenading landscape
of chirps and girgles
covering the earth with its shadow
of silent song
warm in its coolness
like the dancing liquid flowing from a young mother's womb
the sprouts jumped into and through the coffin
wrapping my brother's body with its gentle clutch
whispering into his ear its life giving drone
that echoed into the air
prancing with the newly born sun rays
ever so carefully tickling the flesh of his ears
and the tone of the cool morning air
the silent sounds wailed
at once in rejoice and mourning
in the growing light
his lifeless body wingless and ground born
I quietly
patiently
anticipate his flight.
MOURNING SONGS
First I lost my father
But didn't know the Jew's way to mourn
So only my inner heart sang the kaddish
Each passing day
Filled with the butting chests of males
Blowing steam from their nostrils
Trying to eat my flesh
Inside I wept
Floundering in the viscous sea
Like a fish that hasn't been taught to swim
Then
As my brother died
I lost another.
THE DANCE
Then the dancing starts
the parade insidiously leaks into the night and day
with prancing children
grandchildren, ancestors, great-grand children
singly and in hoards
they taunt the stillness of death
with their understated sway
refusing to let the dying and dead sleep
they swing arm in arm
in jigs and horas
shouting in challenge
to the silence of the night
embarrassing the dead and dying to attention
with spirit thick with blood
they touch and sashay
with one communal step
I blink
and they are still there
I rub my confused eyes
and they are gone
but I can hear them
and I bring myself up to my knees
then rise
like a newly born pony shivers to foot
precariously balancing his large body
on his spindly legs
in the growing light
I look down upon my brother's lifeless body
and angrily
await his flight
WORDS WITHOUT SONG
time causes feelings
in death that life wouldn't answer
a yearning for discovery
for the secrets locked
in the stillness
tightly latched
in the confines of his fate
I reach out
into the naked night
and remember
remember all the moments that I didn't have the warrior's spirit
to act upon
I lay down by my dead brother
awaiting my turn
breathing
in rhythm with the calmness
as the silence sings
I hear nothing
but feel so much of the unexplained.
DREAMS
Children play
Children's things
In their world without beginning or end
As fateless as a small puppy
They seriously romp
Boundless and hungry
For the ways
That only forever brings.
Then his birthing mother died
And my brother never trusted
Again
Taking his breaths through straws
And his loving through armor
His games
No longer children's things.
MORNING SONGS II
First I lost my father
But didn't know the Jew's way to mourn
Then I lost my brother
And now know even less
Blowing frosty air from my nostrils
In tune
With the winds
Singing quietly
I grieve with my own song
And await the first soothing promise
Of the coming morning
From the darkness of the chilling night
As assuredly as my brother's body slowly rots
In the melting snow
There is the sun's mending breath
For the living
And we gradually step into the dawning
With memories
To hold together our wounds.
FLIGHT OF THE WINGLESS PHOENIX
The warm snow
beats against my chest
Like a tireless, angry warrior
If only I had known
That I didn't need wings
To fly.
