booksartyoume

'five stanzas of elation without hyperbole' timothy r gates, 01/19/2007



from the nape of her neck

to the small of her back

says,

'linger here until i'm high,

then you might be welcome

into see the night's fire

beyond this ride'



flowers in the field,

lyrics from an old song,

flowers in her hair,

also an old song's lyrics

something about the grass,

you in it and flowers

recalled a day behind,

present in my mind,

a bong in the middle of a hillside of daisies,

my guitar sitting by the way,

my young lover singing her song

as we smoked our bong,

and each other



the sun smiled,
then laughed;
the sand danced,
the ocean's waves called you in,
but was jealous for your play,
'why's the sand get to caress your frame,
to see your smile up close?'
the wave's foam raise higher,
but only get to watch.
both the sun and the water whisper,
'i'll eat sand if you just come closer'



youth's claim to make love all night,

eclipsed by hoary thoughts,

no need to speak,

'when love is made now,

we don't sing the old Irish adolescent's tune'

-roll me over, in the clover;

roll me over, in the clover,

and do it again -

'we're no longer in a hurry,

whether all night, tonight,

or even if it takes

evening's moon to pass

yes, to another night

before we repose in our delight.'



The Jesus Prayer,

Or the name of Jesus

Exhaled, forgetting to breath

While in synergy's arms;

We don't care if you believe in Jesus or not;

Only question,

Is there a divine, human(e) name,

Someone other than theirs,

That you call out

When there is no name high enough

To exclaim

The joy of the mountain top's dream come?

Again, we don't care,

Especially when we're
Just trying to remember to breath.