Up High, Upright
Ever of Light, I Transcend the hands of time
I Transcend the Illusions of life
like a Djed Pillar, I'm Electrified
I AM Four Times Higher '
Four Times Greater Than Fire,
I'm Electric Like
I AM Electric Bright in Electric Might,
Ever Upwards into the Sky
I Shine Wise, In Flight I'm Hawk Eyed
So Glorious, I'm Sunborn SOLAR REXUS
I Solar Flex, I Illumine in Greatness
‘I’m a failed Muslim.
I drink raki now,’ he says.
A bottle twinkles
on the upturned orange box.
On the unmade bed,
a punch-drunk pillow
lurches in a sea of ruptured quilts.
‘I never pray,’ he adds,
as hawk-eyed Ataturk
retreats to an ascetic frame
and glowers at the room.
And we who are too precious
to confess our faults
feel awkward in the silence.
Turkey, 1990
First published in Blue Minaret
Eagle Swift, My Conscience Uplifts
Upshifts the Swiftness, It's Blissful, My Soul Drifts
Solo Drifter, I Sail The Abyss
One with the Quasars, I Scratch Off The Bucket List
High Born, I Soar Like a Rocket Ship
Where Tales Turn Legend, These Wings Are Destined
I Believe and I Too Have a Dream
Uncaged, I'm The Lion King
I'm The Wild Thing
Destined, Just Me and My Wild Steed,
Like Days Of Old I Trod with Nobility
In Grace, Honor and Chivalry
In Fields like Romance that Blaze towards Destiny
A Cosmic Reunion with my Greater Me,
I Spread My Wings and Transform like a Butterfly
Hawk Eyed, I Soar with Laser Precision Flight
Dragon Sown Forged Of Fire
I'm Opal Bold, Solar Storm Hardwired,
Purged by Friction Glistens a Diamond Intuition
Heaven Rejoice, In Truth I Have Risen
As I sit in the bus, headed North,
I chance to look to the West
And I see two birds flying forth
Above and beyond the very crest
Of this the highest building in town,
Making me wonder where they are bound!
These hawk eyed birds are shaming
This serene structure which we awe!
There they go, disappearing
Into the sunset as they soar.
The hotel is just one of those things
They see off in a day's happenings!
owls fly back toward the dark
mice forage forward
into the talons of the sun
the tramp and scurry
of predators and prey
pass each other
over a margin between
light and dark
at such a crossroad
a lilting truce lulls
the fox forgets the scent
of the rabbit
the thrush goes blind to the worm
seeking eyes mist over
softly purrs the panther
it is a pinched respite
where the last tangles of gloom
fade before lights first flush
an abeyance
a melting moment
for both hunter and hunted
yet too soon the day glares out
a fleeting calm
dissolved in a feral instant
all must now pad paths of peril
take to the hawk-eyed tracks
again run
the blood-splattered trails
beyond that narrow pause
betwixt the to and fro
of each in-between
Owls fly back toward the dark,
mice follow
the talons of an exposing sun.
The tramp and scurry
of predators and prey
passing each other, to-and-fro.
At the tree line, a small
clearing of calm.
Here dawn and night
mingle for a moment.
Here the fox loses the scent
of the rabbit,
the thrush goes blind to the worm;
only for a moment
at a crossroad of time.
Light and dark in perfect balance -
just for an instant,
then all directions
doom themselves once more
into perilous paths,
all must return
to the hawk-eyed tracks
of the back-and-forth,
the menacing trace
of coming and going,
the blood-splattered trails
of to-and-fro.
PREDATOR AND PREY
Group of about eight
Dusky-toned hawk-eyed young men
Dodged off the main sidewalk :
Sprang into storefront
Under the overhanging trees
Watching intently through the leaves,
As downwind gazelles watch motionless
Through the foliage for lions.
Ready to take flight
But preferring to avoid
A meeting if possible.
A traffic cop had stopped a car
For some trivial road offence
Many yards ahead of the eight,
And his uniform was enough
To send unspoken fears
Into a dusky-toned heart.
He hadn’t seen the eight;
But they had seen him.
Predator and prey pirouette
Around each other
Waiting for the other
To make a slip.
Hawk eyed bullet, lamb blood spilling
garments of our fractured youth
nothing remains virgin or sacred
rosaries retreat to martyr tombs.
Windfall for green tied politicians
a spray of rainbows cracks the air
the nest of innocents forever disfigured
broken doves in dank despair.
Savior and leper nibbling insanity
sharing clouds of time and tears
passing bottles of rye necessity
oozing crosses and wooden skin.
The florist clips scores of blossoms
candle maker dipping double time
we the mourners, man the light
night pulsing- weeping fireflies.
I got lost in a swarm of people
who knew other people
who thought politics were overrated,
who were constantly for equal rights
for every damn thing,
and then there was me
who was trying to look for you,
despite the cacophony of
human sounds.
I loved those trees,
limbs draped in plump wild grapes,
bursting with flavor on my tongue,
while juice stained my fingers.
Tall cottonwoods shadowed
the creek where we splashed—Sis,
brother, and I—and a giant sycamore
shaded Granddad's spring. We slaked
our thirst from the granite dipper
hung on a nail he'd hammered
into its trunk at kid level.
We watched water belch like corn,
rattling a popper lid, and ripple
over rocks in the streambed,
where minnows and crawfish
hid from prying fingers.
Hawk-eyed, we scouted
gnarled branches in the orchard
for ripening fruit, luscious and tangy,
spurting juice to drip off elbows.
Hazelnut bushes flourished
by the back fence; black walnut trees
shaded Grandmother's back porch.
Our uncles helped burst crack-jaw shells
with hand-held rocks on the stone slabs
stretching toward the gate.
I do not envy the children
whose play-field offers brick and concrete,
severe and naked, whose only fruit
blows down alleys and into streets,
as the refuse of city dwelling.
The nighthawk sails tonight;
Encompassing a silent world
Caught is, his prey in the wink of an eye
Spinning and diving in swirls
Across the midnight skies
While he holds court with the fancied hawk girls
The sea hawk takes to the sky
She dives for her daily catch
Of delicious bass in the seas nearby
Each bares a twinkle in their eyes
Prey for each, comes as no surprise
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