P&P
Poem
The Horizon's Edge
(or India Beckons)
I.
Humanity
India beckons
the sweet acrid air
filling me completely
drawing me forward
into billowing chords
the metallic woman
luring me with the incomprehensible
something about love.
India stumbles
a crutch from the millennia before
propping up a bold history
its weight
its anguish
heavy under foot.
India scrawls
its future in triplicate
resting stunned
at the foot of an Internet universe.
India caresses
the fatigue of my imagination
my anesthetized American fate
in an unforgiving bathing of my senses
perhaps the Ganges shall wash my soul
of its blemishes.
India taunts
desperate merchants
gambling beggars
brilliant urchins
await my naïve exit
hopeful
prod my spirit.
India marches
along a precipice of doom
choking on diesel
these twisted children
nothing more than shadows.
Before New Delhi emerges
before it rolls itself out to become
life
only the lonely mystics cry
a prayer for the lost
wayward souls
whose dreams have no pity.
This gentle smile
tranquil
rendered by innocence
betrays the knowledge
gathered from each certain step
taken along the horizon's edge.
Not long ago
while resting
hanging over the edge of the earth
an angel touched my shoulder
beckoning love
the most gentle invitation
offered in grace
to interrupt my journey
to step back from the edge
a bed for my heart
two hands extended
to lift my restless burden.
New Delhi has awakened
the blanket of sleep pulled back
a million dreams released
into a beleaguered dawn.
II.
Ritual
The gods have stirred me from sleep
placed me in the audience
of the singing dogs:
across these Himalayan valleys
here where continents clash
a canine opera for the sleepless.
The chorus
into a crescendo of desperate howls
perhaps the fate of the damned.
These sweet echoes
tiptoe into fragile dreams
to play Shiva, Jesus and ageless love:
one dreamer
having searched for a lifetime
ascends to know all.
The chorus
into a diminuendo of knowing barks
perhaps the fate of the blessed.
I have been released
discharged to return to sleep
to the desires of my soul.
III.
Self-control
The moon
yellow god whose name I know not
lifts its head over Rishikesh
showing the Ganges the way.
The bewildered
wearily rocking in the ashrams
still anchored in self
wade through their regrets
for some
one incarnation too many.
This pilgrim
pacing his prayers along the ghat
beseeches Yama
to absolve him
restore him
believe him.
And there
the anguished pig
carrying a thousand souls
of the doomed
forages for forgiveness
and its rebirth.
This city embraces
an unknowing Ganges
too fresh from its Himalayan birth
to begin its suffering
initiate its ecstasy
wash the earth clean of its misery.
The pilgrim still traces his path
the prayerful breaths
diluting the desire
releasing him from delusion.
God was born here
spilled perhaps
from this very moonshadow
into the river and stone;
summoned again by these ringing bells
God has found his way into all
knowing well
that only fools wait
for rebirth.
IV.
Righteousness
A thousand years of echoes
guide bats longing for a way
here where Ganesh descended
in a clumsy splash of yellow.
The proselytizing bard
injects Vishnu slowly
India anesthetized
numbed to its agony.
An emphatic stray
announces the boundaries of his terror
limping
civilization limping
but indomitable
even the most twisted wretch
Shiva's whores
Brahma's jesters
rest side by side
pick up the dead
and nurse this infant
whose spirit
traveled here before.
While the dying dog
licks the towns wounds
an ancient breeze
lays a medieval chill
on the muttering insomniacs.
This dog is free
the night at her command
tonight
she announces
this electric howl
that Ganesh
Disney incarnation
is a grifter
con man
sleight of hand
hand of God
now untouchables
a whimpering earth
wonders why.
Shiva paints
the town blue
making all suffering the same
that it is just so
God
therefore
absolved.
V.
Truth
She shook me loose with her smile
and beauty's earnest
ignited my fingertips
to once again
caress my world.
I held her
for a hundred years
one night
with two fingertips
my heart
whispering
desires.
My hands
fingers
take hold
for an eternal caress
this tangerine
my lover.
Here where sugar is a bully
spices wrestle on my tongue
cardamom
apparently victorious
crowds my palette
saffron
elegant
but wincing
reminds me of beauty
and the impermanence of an embrace.
Water
my lover
lays on me
how sweet
this surrender
when I swim in your dreams
I might fly you
through the oaks of my soul.
I want love
I can remember
knead it
feel its weight in my hands;
nourish me
make love to me
and I will feed you
a whisper
so tender
it will arrive on a breeze;
rescue me
pull me forward
kiss me when you come.
I have been received
fallen into a hundred arms
and fingers of velvet
my warmth
returned in a caress
an embrace
to inhale again.
Lay on top of me
press me deeply
into the earth.
VI.
Meditation
I am gone
I am here
a breeze
a caprice
I am here
I am gone.
I am walking
west, my dear
west
here where
women sparkle
men carry history
and all eyes
the color of sand.
My feet
straight and complete
toes each wandering in the sand
carry me forward
forthright
a million miles.
While I rest here
swimming in my tea
teasing time's persistence
I determine
that I am a prince
arriving from the desert kingdom
for one night of foreign love.
Upstream I sail
the dry riverbed
how long has this river
carried me
and these other wandering stones.
I am gone
I am here
a breeze
a caprice
I am here
I am gone.
VII.
Peace
The credits to my life
scroll across the dawn's blue
beside her galaxy
above the clouded
crimson horizon.
The sun has woken for me
eased into its splendor
for a thousand years
I have traveled here
sometimes broken
resting in the clouds
my bed
recalling lovers
whose ancient caravans
still sailing time
once found me alone.
Touch awaits me
since I kissed her hand
she took me in
nourished me
tempted me with grace
reminded me
to play
wrapped me in herself;
under her weight
I am released.
Half way around the globe
my life turns ahead
a beckoning love
sweeps me along.
The underside of the world
softer than I expected
where birth is robust
and rebirth orange
my future has been painted
a thousand times
my journey
emerges again
explodes in this smile
this is my horizon.
I have climbed back to the horizon's
edge
for the first time
peering over
fearless
hopeful.
|
