SAVAGE PEACE; WORDS SHATTERING; I NEED PEACE AFTER WOODS WALKING
Many a’ time past I’ve seen this present before as savage, a catamount of me hunting.
Once at war with Creek and Cherokee, the British and then against one another.
Always moon touched closest to the Suwanee, Chattahoochee, Chattooga Rivers,
These lands around where I was born and grew to live most of my life wandering
Stone Mountain, searching every line in granite to see the footprints of history.
Later it was anyplace where I heard the Oconee and Broad, their many branches,
Home it was when water was near, wild in the Straits of Mackinac on The Island.
When I could hear and smell, see the California Pacific my American soul was born,
Everything was big, the waves, the tales, the trees and then the strangest, Yeah.
Funniest creature alive I saw while walking alone in the Mendocino ocean side forests. Electric celestial yellow snail by my left boot there beside the ferns waiting to greet me,
Welcome to the hills and cliffs, Garcia, Gualala and Elk River, unbelievable waves,
Grey whales sailing upon the dark deep waters slowly breaching and hypnotic,
Dig my soles down to hold onto this quivering land and I looked eye to eyes
With another ancient inhabitant to this “here”, a potato bug turning his head
As if spring loaded and crackled sounds so sharp I swore it was speaking,
And so here I knew more than life more than dreams more was waiting here to be
To rise and define what is me; this North Sonoma, Southern Mendocino
was not ready for this Southern, wild, drunken, woman crazed, culinary flash,
Fog walking sands of Manchester, coasting across the grasses of Haven’s Neck,
Finally knowing home is wherever, and I’m just digging life more smile than frown.
Carolina Beach, steamy Atlantic, a slow churning sea as my back yard garden,
Bluefish, drum, cobia racing past the ocean road of Hatteras bound two mast ships.
They’ll get there by break of dusk, before the fogs and errant sands appear along
Trails where racing tides follow same paths as those drifting our coastline,
On the currents of our great Intercoastal Waterway, Walking waters dune to dune
Between herds of grazing flounder, lobster and ever curious sea bream, hypnotic,
Where it seems only marsh is resting there is more life than imagined fluttering
In the star and moonlight, shifting to hide under floodlights blinded into actions
Of both hunger and fear. These waters these paths these dunes rise and fall
With hurricanes lifting homes off their stilts, asphalt from concrete, SUVs shelter.
House where I lived not long enough to be a home. Such are the Outer Banks.
Better a cottage than me out becoming coral reef, better anything than me
For the time being, for anytime back then when I had more friends than life,
More love around than the silence found in a hurricane’s Horus eye,
Here above me, around everything daring to love the sea more than inland life.
Down, damned and drained I’ve lost everything four times over
Storms, divorce, fire and slow burning cancer suddenly exploding
Taking things of life to expose this flesh, this person, this too broken damaged creature
Best at all things never of the social and the safe.
Give me a wave and riptide, hungering streams and rain devouring rockslides
Something to build upon when blood and love say no, no to all things beyond my grave.
Give me NO so I have land to cross and love lies to build upon, build upon here.
I Need Peace After Woods Walking In The Last Full Moon
One by one hundred these stalks of poison ivy seem to be everywhere,
Telling little green dangers hiding under tulip poplars. you’re alright for now,
Tomorrow it’s dust to dust, all that is created dies, solids melt with no goodbye.
And I think the ticks falling and trying to find a place to bite is funny
Reminding each one you’re late with Lyme’s then butane torch each one “bye-bye”.
I am all Deet full SPF sun name-a-bug protected so only thing shaken
Are leaves, dust, mushroom powder and ground red dirt off my white T shirt.
Come on in not a poison coming through except love letters black edged by fire
Written long ago when I was unable to hear anything other than Bach era
Math music and not much more as the images screwed into my fragile mind
Cursed by fire that ate my grad school cabin home ruined it all and left me heaving.
Sang a hard Blues way over Tallulah Falls down rock down moss down on tourists
Washed away where all Art crawled through conclusion walls
Thirty years in the making, man, it’s a damage done so slow to resolution
Hope it comes soon I am done suffering. Asking every road sign will Burma Shave
Make a comeback and if I can turn the years just this once and not again.
Sincerely crouching and wantonly walking there’s nothing more to reincarnate
Take your teleology Cartesian reasons and Swine Rand books of if and only if
All this moment must surpass moment here to be in the moment here
The rest is air it’s only air refracting pollen yellow galaxies of Being Is Being As.