Love and Loveless

I heard it in a love song

We touch the pulse of morning’s breath
the rich dark honey
of summer’s light,
lays bare the shades that paint the sea,
the black-tongued bells that
tolled the night,
awakens the damp mounds of grass
and dune;
the tidal pools would they sleep too soon.

And the wind is unquieter than
the gull-winged bird,
it drifts along the shallows with their
stoned-faced crags,
sea life clinging to its garboard strakes-
starfish, silvery minnows,
anemones, urchins and barnacles.

The sea is within us, its different
voices heaving homeward
in our hearts- its rhythm, its pulse
unraveling its beauty
with each passing sound;
its still waters the ecstasy of life.

Time stops for us between midnight
and dawn, the silent sea
threading together the past
and the present;
moments of happiness in the warmth
of its depths, its currents
flowing through us like brined rivulets.

Here, where the world is quiet with
sleeping streams,
gentle rain sows the sea, pale
beds of waves blossom the shore,
clouds take wing
and follow the sun.
Here, where winds blow leaping, we
whirl and toss into amorous dancing,
up Up into the stars.
We have no names, just love and lover.

I heard it in a love song

Where have all the children gone

Jug Jug Jug our parents drink,
words spewed out
on serpents tongues,
Adam and Eve white as skeletons
in the garden of Eden;
bride and groom kindled back
to the beginning.

We are their priests and servants.
In the streets we sow
the seeds of their loins like virgins,
we chant under the
headstones of our labor;
words as cinders burning in
our little skulls.

Into the organ pipes and steeples
of alleys-
cathedrals for the forgotten,
the dead mouths burn on the altar
like sacrificial lambs;
glory, glory, glory to god in the
thundering kingdom of his thunder.

Forgive us, forgive us, as we crumble
back into darkness,
our births cannot atone for our sins;
we are bare in the
nurseries of earth’s wilderness-
ditches where we drag
our innocence.

The molesters, the laborers kneading
our bodies like prostitutes,
humping us in silence as we bleed;
drip drop drip drop,
our hearts exhausted wells, our
sweat is dry and our feet in quicksand;
we are those hooded-hordes
stumbling in violent air.

Where have all the children gone