I dreamed

of a slice of beach

moon a silver pool on the water

waves pressing the shore

 air— cool palms on moist skin

 

breathing a duet

with the rhythmic swells

scouting for allusive Coyotes,

 a night fisherman’s dancing pole when

 

Sandy-dog made an entrance

His fox colored hair dark in the night shadows

prancing his favorite stretch of sand—

pelicans to chase, scorpions to nose

rotting jellyfish to inspect

 

Suspended in that void between breaths 

I called and called until

he turned and

ran with wild swiftness

he owned when he was well.

 

A swiftness that slicked his ears back

eyes shining like stars

mouth open to a smile—

that ecstatic grin greeting me each day

hoping for a treat, a tummy rub.

 

Closer and closer he sprinted.

I was weightless, floating over a ravine

Closer and closer, his paws

 

flew to my shoulders.

A wonderful slashing filled me

He jumped inside.                                                                  

 

 

I Saw Tinker bell

 

Barely at remembering age

my sleep soaked eyes blink open

midnight dark room

Tinker bell leans against brass doorknob

elbows urge my frame up 

her eyes unwrap mine

melt inside my wide stare

she sprinkles a magic constellation that

orbits around her fairy frame

burlap light licks me like a cat

wings flutter thin as whiskers

I feel buoyant

yet tether to mussed up blankets

incandescent threads weave us

I gaze for sheer pleasure of gazing

suspended between out and in breathe

my eyes reluctant to leave her

wondrous,

bewitching,

frightening,

sublime

all collide inside of me

within the extravagance of glow she

undulates to slightly opened door

her radiance dwindles

infinite slowness

memory time has nor minutes or hours

only clock ticks

with simple insistence

she slides through blade thin crack

shimmering eyes the last to escape

 

For years I think the doorknob

will invite her back to brass perch

lately, I consider her a dream

of myself dreaming her, conjured in

the nocturnal part of my mind

but her appearance is vivid as this minute

a thumbprint on my eyes

alchemic surprise of this magical thing—life.

 

  

 

 

Dad came to me

I dreamed I was blazing through an open field

everything split open with sunlight

thought I was in a painting

mustard knee high—flaxen

oaks bending

ahead a crystal staircase

I started to ascend

meaning began to take shape

white light chased the place free of shadows

ancestors moving like water

as if in their original stream

 

Dad turned toward me

He looked like a Blake Poem

“Father, Father! Where are you going?”

I felt myself move to him

kissing his forehead

polyphony of memories surged

resting in my ribs

twisting my heart backward

to the faintest imprint of what they were

 

I understood his struggles as mine

but the shine in the corner of his eyes

glowed that life must pass through difficulties

to achieve any morsel of joy

a man at ease now

his smile contains everything

 

I was breathing his breath

we became one piece.

 

 

Grandpa’s Companion

 

(Dedicated to my Grandfather who came to America

at age 16 with just his rucksack)

 

Bulging rucksack

clutches sculpted shoulders of

sprouting boy who

wears two faces

American wild unsettled spunk

Croatian aching timid hope

 

His rucksack

smells richly of figs. fish, sweat

tucked wooden flute hums

lush thickets of bawdy Slavic tunes

 

Packed inside

a frameless photo—half-sister Zora

her long nose a twin of his

shy crooked smile—his too

 

With a tuck of a strap

it converts to hand-carried valise

rucksack gently squeezes

grandpa’s anxious palm then

 

swings a smile when

Ellis guards wave them on

his young liquid eyes shimmer

like crystal balls

 

Rucksack bounces

down stone steps; leads them far

from murmuring ocean

from moon smiling

from crowded shore all the while

 

hugs my grandpa’s shaking lungs

a salve for his sore moans

rucksack-companion

not ashamed of teary eyes

 

 

 

 

Go-Getter

 

                Mom says, Don’t sleep the day away.

 

I sprint to St. Peter’s Church

rollers and bobbie pins hide under scarf

 

                Save your money for a rainy day.

 

Play the organ, 6:30 Mass, $5.00 a month

feet dance heel-toe–heel-toe with wooden pedals

 

                “Time’s a wastin’!

 

Hopscotch to school, pick up best friend

she giggles, tries to keep up: hop-jump hop-jump

 

                Don’t be idle!

 

Skip home for lunch, take the alleys—much quicker

Mom’s sleeps, works nights at the hospital

 

                 Be a go-getter!

 

I lay in bed, watch the stars’ blink

on the other side of bedroom window

 

                Try something new!

 

“Mom, I am hungry for new:

    new words new sounds

      new realms that say come forth

        I want to jump onto virgin routes

          trek first-taken roads.

            Do you think I might hear new;

           words in random patterns

         that change me, shift me;

        waggled words welded

       in sand, stones, rocky paths?

    I want to walk them all.

I want to learn their stories.”

 

                Or you won’t amount to anything!

 

 

 

I look at you

looking at nocturne sky

light drenches your face

radiant like a pearl

your eyes dart

connect celestial diamonds

your head swings

savors vast montage

of gathering constellations

 

Your lips part enough

for a silent “aah”

send a gentle glance

for a long moment

then return radiant eyes

to celestial epic

utterances are hidden

under a bushel basket

 

So different yet

We are caught up

held in this single

emotion of wonder

 

I wish I could climb

into your skin

watch from your eyes

know if you

are a mute coyote

disguised

unleashed

untamed

miming a howl

at full moon

 

Wish you could see

through my eyes

a wilderness sanctuary

stars flickering like votive candles

my innocent choir girl gaze

ascending to sacred

glittering sacraments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Glittering Comforts

 

Poe begins his verse

 “Twas noontide of summer

and mid-time of night”

insomnia grips me

wool blanket, flashlight

collection of star poems

“Look at the stars”

look how they shine for you”

Coldplay lyrics walk with me

to sandy rim of stony beach

 

Back in my house

I am child-frightened

boogie man under my bed

ghouls in linen closet

like Galileo- “I have loved the

stars too fondly to be fearful of night.”

Beneath these shards of light

a quiet magic protects me

 

How they cluster

in Frosts eyes too

“How countlessly

they congregate”

I begin to connect the

diamond dots, give them

epic names, make them family

Blake hails 

“Fair haired angels”

Hopkins invents “Fire –folk”

I inhale these Glittering Comforts

magically childhood memories

comet from their hiding places:

 

Dad roasting marshmallows

over glowing embers

cuddled under frayed afghan

Grams electric fireplace

crackles me asleep

dancing candles flames

navigate innocent prayers to heaven

 

I fix my eyes on these Comforts

Tonight, “Look how they shine for me”

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Yourself

 

All my life,

    thus far

      I have thought about

        the vast reaches of love

 

including tedious sermons

    pontificating to love our

      neighbor as we love

        ourselves. And I wonder

 

why we shout— neighbor

     and whisper— ourselves?

       Why the word— as 

          is sometimes silent?

 

All day I remember

     my parent’s proud glints,

        when I took my snappy bow.

           My grin, wide as a boat.

 

They boasted and talked

    of my future

      my next opus

        coming true

 

and their gestures—

     wild hugs

        scattered exclamations

           intermingled.

All contained something that

    issued from deep in their chests.

      Animated faces wore unshakable care

        and mine burnished it too— for them.

 

I see now they were landmarks

     contagious magnets

        guiding my heart

          into this mystery called love.

 

I learned in those spellbound

    moments about the—as—

      that love for others untangles

          us into loving ourselves

I DREAMED