Mine was a somewhat humble Holy Grail.
For forty years, I hoped to see a plane
fly right across the moon. I hoped in vain.
Though once I got to see a vapour trail
bisect the orb, I couldn’t quite prevail.
Like Joey Starrett, running after Shane,
It seemed to me the gods might preordain
a lifelong disappointment. Would they fail
to humour me? It all looked pretty bleak.
One hoary April morning, just last week,
on glancing up, I broke my losing streak!
Flamed by a sun which, here, had not yet risen,
a tiny aircraft, shining with mystique,
flew through the moon, and smashed my earthbound prison.
A wild wisp,
bound by a vile kiss.
A rogue thought,
bound by flesh and an unchaste heart.
The parallax of bliss..
An outcast shut in.
Withering in distraught.
Die blessed, you stand in my cold rot,
Your flow taught.
Beckoned by a teal whisper,
enticing the senses to tame.
Amethyst's fragile wish,
inviting my essence to claim.
Your coy hum softens the core,
irrigates lust, makes me adore.
You dissent yet knead so servile.
Sweet subject, so ready, so fertile.
My Power to poise a psyche,
to hasten growth, or de-generate.
You waste in both pity and modernity;
a Dance of Eternity.
Hold my hand and crawl against the grain.
Surround my ecstasy with your misery and pain.
Hold it tighter and crawl through your shame.
Touch my flare, forget your guilt and blame.
Adhere to me; my servitude of the Bloodmoon.
Rebound your mental plea, succulent flame.
Centuries accrued in its elegant name.
Bask with me, potently; impel and preordain.
Does your writing lack power,
is it merely verbose,
as you labor line to line
Is the message red meat
or a vegan’s delight,
its essence so defined
Each word as an arrow
that strikes for the heart,
its tip to preordain
The strength of the meaning
abandoning all
—when destined to explain
(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)
Return as I again,
With daring striking in my chest,
Another circuit open chain,
Then stop to rest,
Procrastinate, a cover for refrain.
Watching time pass again,
I wonder would it be somehow,
My season comes to preordain,
The time is now,
Shoot flaming straight, destroy excuses lame.
But fate relieves again,
The urgency that I would feel,
For courage in my heart to fain,
To make it real,
What kind of chance, could I then ascertain?
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