Chimes

Words prime the poet from his sleepy time,
Like “chimes”— not just a word, a siren which
Lures him into mingling lines to time that rhyme.
See? It’s tricky without the ding an sich—
How each stress silently eases while rhymes fade
When you hear them, the real things— the chimes.
Such simple things, silvery slender metal rods
Hovering gently in the still air as though waiting.
Maybe that’s why she loves them so, and why she
Hangs them by open windows and in her garden.
She smiles when the wind picks up even a little.
She waits while tingles come first in her heart…
Then she hears them jingle in the air as they
Sing to her— she feels them clinging to their
Sisters and brothers on the metal vine— She knows
Spirits linger on wavy crests flowing through
Spaces between them, as they’ll touch and cavort
With their luck to be with her, who is always
Aware of their waiting moments— suspending
Their animation with fain hopes, while they
Languish limply in stifling still air when…
She’ll blow soft, and they’ll smile with her again.
~Dr.M

Words Without Words

He wore a perfect blindfold-- a bleak mask
For an elected blindness not to see
A thing, or any one, including their
Words to read that could be misleading him.
Words can deceive, even start bloody wars.
He began scrubbing his memory of language--
Thought symbols he used to speak, hear, read
And write…they only feed on themselves
Like cannibals hungry for glib answers
From his gut, twisted by feckless questions.
Now he hears language sounds that mean nothing,
Like the sharp commands heard by wild dogs
Unleashed by scarecrows that they ignore.
He hears rushes of the wind, cicadas,
Thunder, and waves repeating restful
Endings upon sandy shores, music heard--
Unspoken things like that, unwritten, move
On, to forget without traces so he’ll be ready
To hear wondrous things as they are just born.
He might hear tandem footsteps on the sand,
On grass, moving closer, moving away…
Stopping, silence-- a real moment simmers…
He listens as the quiet of someone there
Brings their world so near to him without a word.
He feels her breathe without symbolic clutter. 
He learns to know her, who she really is.
Maybe now he’ll take the mask from his eyes.
~Dr.M

Time Is My Enemy

Time is my enemy.
I met Time
On my way to You…
Before, I never thought
That Time was my enemy.

I never knew what
Before meant until
I met You-- truly,
Time is my enemy.

Now, I never want
To meet After.
I never want to meet
After ever… Yes,
Time must be my enemy.

I have You Now.
And Now never
Seems to change.
But Time is always at work,
Working against me
As sure as it is my enemy.

Time steals while I think,
“Are we killing Time?”
Now slips away--
A paranoid entropy
To Before and After.
Time is my enemy.

What can I do?
May I carry You
Close to me, when
Time leaves me
Without Before and After,
Or, if I would kill Time…
Time is my enemy.

Killing Time…
Would then I’ll have
You without Time?
Would then I’ll have You
With me always?
Time would be my memory.

You are beyond Time.
Even Time could never
Be your enemy.
In Time it is this
I’ll understand Dear Heart,
As I know I am with You Now.
~Dr.M

The Curtain Falls

You sign out.
The whistle blows.
The sun sets. 
The curtain falls. 
The earth freezes over.
The heart stops.
A reverse ticking fades
Present into past
Until you are floating 
Blind before you were born.

Regret abandons you. 
You watch the Dead. 
They dance to music
You never could hear--
That never ran out of fashion.
They are in step... a strange Stealth...
They sway away 
From this thought of death.

Rhythmic silent energy
Imbues your invisibility.
You feel like dancing.
And nothing, not even 
Inhibition stops you. 
You ask someone to dance,
And when you come together 
On the glittering floor, 
There is no gravity. 
No one will cut in.
She is yours
Until the music stops.

Life cuts in... 
She is gone.
You are in pain.
You may never dance with her again. 
The floor is empty.
You are born.
~Dr.M

Seeing Stars

Staring into the heavens
When stars are falling
All around you--
You may miss them,
Their shimmering light
Like no other when they’re near,
To guide you through your fear.
Wonders that will never end--
Like the rising sun when you sleep,
Or the beggar you ignored,
Or the phone call you never made
May leave you in the darkest shade…
If you wish stars to fall,
You may wonder
What you have missed,
And at what heaven you
Were staring at at all.
~Dr.M

The Highest Art

When two lips touch to express
Love from deep within each heart,
A moment when each to each they bless
Their kiss to become the highest art.
~Dr.M

The Association of the Moon, LLC

In a clear sky we often see a light--
The same Moon shining again and again.
Dawns, mornings, afternoons, dusks, days and nights,
Moving through splendid spherical phases.
Waxing, waning, quarter, half and full Moons,
Essence never falters, never changes--
Even with that One Giant Step long ago,
One July when all of us were watching--
We may recall what we were doing then.

It may be that our lonely Moon sightings
We ought not remember more, those cold
Pictures, no matter how beautiful they
May seem to be -- they are the same Moon
After all is determined-- but to each one--
Every Moon is different, struggling  
Through invisible charged fields of events--
Like points gaining electron volts of mass,
Attracted by something, shedding photon beams
Upon where we are and what we do.
So when we'll see the silvery Moon,
Mystical lunar gravitons may pull
Even stubborn memories to the surface
From their hidden little alcoves repressed...
The dark sides and eclipses of our souls,
Forcing tides of change in our daily lives
From understandings shown by the Moon's light.
~Dr.M

Thoughts Into Words

Fate and Chance vie in a debate…
What does a thought look like
When it morphs into words?
Nothing like when Love and Grace
Cast with the dust of the stars…
A spell onto a mysterious
Collision of strange creatures.
It doesn’t matter what he thinks…
His thoughts won’t escape into words
Not while Sorrow walks with her,
Who bore a child whose blue eyes
Would never bear a single tear.
He sees now how a persuasive disguise
Led one night to a horror hidden…
Where outside a secret room
He heard her strident cry of wasted labor,
Changing her instincts forever.
Only Exhaustion could still her torment.
His thoughts wouldn’t escape into words
To distract her from what has befallen.
Neither Fate nor Chance, but Thought
Deceived her about what he felt,
But his thoughts wouldn’t escape into words.
He dearly wished for a second chance…
He clearly wished he could forget
What Memory would prorogue until,
In his endless sleep, he may enter
The one blind dream of a dead child,
In the arms of his mother,
And his thoughts won’t escape into words.

~Dr.M