Body moving,
  
      forgetting,
 
        everything

   Warm flood of loin,
      
        new ideas spring, wet,

        Joy,  momentarily capture,

        justification, meaning, insight,

        purpose, belonging, acceptance,


        into the universal purpose.


         My act, my gift, my Joy,


         binding and being bound together,

        
         Together, with.....

   
   Completion for a time.. till the next completion...


 W L

    Charged to nothing;
    What explanation forthcoming?
    Depression melds into sleep.

    Listless fervor wavering
    Senseless time
    Vacant pillow of comfort.

    The path is muddled.

  CT

  To meet and slowly very slowly blow open the taboo's, tearing down the curtains that separate us from melting into one another, that melting that comes from the pounding of me into you, like a blacksmith shaping a glowing hot piece of raw willing iron into different useful shapes, one ringing blow at a time, each shaping a little more, aligning and moving the metal with each blow, with the occasional thrust of the sword back into the sparking fire, bellows working, heating more, bringing the metal to the brink of total collapse into shining molten steel, pulling out just shy, positioning on the cold hard anvil, arm raised, dirty and blackened hand holding the uncompromising hammer,

     ting, another blow, another small movement towards completion, 

     ting, another alignment another giving up of the old shape,

     ting, another acceptance of the new shape, more defined,
           sharper, and smoother at the same time.

The contrasts developing from the will of the smith and the acceptance of the steel. Finally back into the fire, bellows causing streams of sparks, the new sword glowing from within, 
    one color,

    ready.

Tongs lift it and plunge it into the cold water, billows of steam, loud hissings as the steel takes on a razor hardness, brittle and unyielding, useless. The smith, picks it out and with careful binding slow bakes it, color changing and softening through the darkest of rainbow of hues, from wheat, to brown, to blue, towards black. Stopping short at a light brown on the edge and darker at the center the careful wrapping allowing the controlled tempering, a balance of useless shattering hardness, and useless malleability to a combination of resilient body and hard edge. The smith examines and smiles at the new thing created, the new thing in the world, the new tool to be used. The new tool with the soul of the smith contained within. All that is needed is the wrappings and trappings of a sword to hold it and make use of it and to keep it safe and protected.

         Thinking, a handle of leather befits this my new sword.
 

                                             WL

Mind roars open,

 caught by steady change,

  the mad dash to ocean home,

 above which the invisible floating in pure quiet air,

   then corporial clouds, visible, in still air which

  gathers for that flash and pouring out,

     falling to earth

        splashing down,

          soaking in through the life of earth,

     ever seaking, 

  when caught with brothers and sisters on a babling quest,

  Drawn out of earth, draw out and down, gathering, gathering,

  larger and faster, hurtling past me, anouncing continuously

  the promise of the quest, 

   ammassed tiny voices shake my ground, then down and down

  till emmense movement slowly slows 

     in the seasoning of the suposssed end.

  Warm sun after a long wait, lifts each up, 

    purifies,
 
      carries up to the quiet phase of the turning cycle.

                                             WL

I hurried, harried, past pastoral setting.

 longing glance freezing the beautiful fiction,
 
  of me, there, pastoral. 

   Miles, miles, clickity clack,
 
   clickity clack,

 Another destination bagged, passport stamped,

   all I really want is a quiet absinthe

     under a shady tree.



                             WL 

 

   Sun bright gentle day,

       blue and white and blue and green,


   till waining warmth give way to 

      a golden flecked corridor across worried water.


   Grand reminant of glorious day,

            sinking below silhouetted hills.


   The wind lowers its standard in reverant respect.


   A rainbow sky, faded glory, holds valiantly till, 

             slowly, night claims the field.


   Disrespectful, a night wind sweeps in, too soon, too soon,

       anouncing its stark arc'ed Queen.


 She crosses the infinite blackness collecting relaxed counsel

              from the spray of a million ancient suns.


 Soon, even the that Silver Sickle bows to the green northern fire,

   anouncing the suns delayed comment on our spinning circumstance.


      It whispers to the world asleep, like forgotten dreams.

                        "I will come again" 


                                                 WL

 

        Lazily laying down and seeing
        what there is to be in being.

        Running fast, bumping, careening
        living, breaking free, weening.

        Landing, rubbing bottom, looking round
        feeling, enjoying, how we're bound.

        Growing tired, loosing, sadly
        seeing being not bound, madly.

        Tearfully laying down and seeing
        what there was to have been in being.


                                          WL

 

       Patience, waits, quietly.

          Anxiety, waits, with turmoil.

       I wait with patient anxious desire.

                for something....    unknown.

                                       WL

 

Ancient posturings, 
          full juiced, 
                bold.

    At the edge, that ancient accepted form,
         communal worship,
             of deep and un-approved passions. 

    I slap your rhythms on the box, kak.da.da.ka.da.ddd.kak.
        radiating, from my loins,
             all senses and heart one, sharp and timely.

    Your dance not needing, but accepting,
            my core's beat, 
               we are merged for the dance.

    Quickly she claps my timing, kat.ta.ta.kat.kat.kat.
          urging, coaxing feet faster,
               my violent heeling bravado.

    You two dance the same dance, one to the next,
                 we compete, and complete, each
                     whole for a time. 


    Puffed, sharply defiant, 
         displaying against all our nights,
              we have impressed ourselves, too,

                     in this ritual of release.


                                          WL

 

        Arms high, Proud backed,

        I look into your defiant eyes,

                           circling,

        My feet demanding you, my arms, my intensions,

          eyes focusing you into my hot soul, 


        eyes blazing back,

             Swirling skirt confounding, 

                 arms ripe with ambiguous unconcerned,


         we balancing anger, pride, desire, and forced pleasure,


            sounded on the hard sharp floor.   

        
                                                 WL

 

        The pipes echo tartan bold and I approach to see.

        if the echo's are so grand if not distanced from me.

        Drone flavors, undercurrent, overtone, dree

        Girded, prodded, steeled and battle ready. 

        Cut deep and pull, towards moth flame fate,

                                            me.


                                        WL

 

        Needs drawing life to sea,

          down, down, over and around,


        Slipping, tumbling, gamboling, free, 

            down, around, over, to ground.


        Cosmic pachinko, needs arrive,

            path set free.


        Game on game, intersecting, entwined,

            my game, your game, the big game enshrined.


        Compound cacophony of clatterous noise.

          Life pours in, and hope out pours our joys.


        Flowing with the balls through complex comb,

                     even the last ball finds home.
        

                                            WL

 
            Sweet flower, do what you dew,
            thrust out to draw in, for issue.

            Compelling by shrinking back,
            drawing, leading, back in two.

            Two making, two oneing, one too.

                                        WL

 
               care, finds care, finds caring,
               fine cairn of constant search.
               indigo tracings, indeed go, in,
               tracing cares and
               cairns to constant truth. 

                                     WL

 

       Piling bags, building, she, we work together,

       one on one, one on top, on one, in line.

       Gathering, emense, slow and certain,

       foothills come and visit for a time.

       A glance would miss, but the old slow folk, see,...

       every conversation the river every had,

       and they, out of respect for what's to be said, flee. 

       one on one, on top, on one, all laid, 

       but she is on the river side,

       and I have no help or trade.
                                        
                                       WL

 

      Open and wonderful, rare and right,

      Beckoning, thrown open to one.

      Drops left from rain, sweet rain

                    that rained on .. us, all.

      Moist, and ready, fullfilling promise,

      Calling out, loudly, bursting colors,

                  through multiple, multiple spectrums

      Pollen dripping.. waiting.. waiting.. and ripe.

      Petals curving strongly, stretching back, open more,

      for just that bee.


      ...not me..


      to bumble or not to bumble,

      ....
      ...........
      ........

      ...
      .....
      .
                  let it be.

                                  wl

 
        Does the train contain,

        My future?

        Go, stay, remain,

        adventure?

        Will the doors be kind.

        opening to.. 

        My heart arrive,

        or passage to.

        Will the rain decide.

        Who?

                          WL

 
       Brick, laid, the path obscured in failing light

       Unmistakable to the foot,

       That first step, then clarity.

                   
           
                                           WL


        

 

           Watching Gull, not hungry..
           
           Seeing Flying Mountain. hair aloft.

           Strong folded, molded wings, wait,

           Tense between man, bird, and wind

           Feathers gently ruffling

               Hair Trigger
       

                                            WL


        

 


        She looked at the flowers and asked,
        "The colors are so vivid, don't you think?"
        A garden's charm warmed by summer,
        Casting shadows upon indoor simplicity.

        Wondering as the colors fade, as
        The scent grows less acute, 
        If...those days will be among the last
        When the senses can but mirror the image.

        "Aye," he said, "During those times, 
        a fresh garden shall be planted and sown,
        For always a virtuous one shall find
        the fertile field where flowers abound."

        She smiled at the thought, stroking her hair,
        Pulling grey strands away from her face,
        She whispered, "Flowers of the soul; Yes,
        vibrant, fragrant flowers robust in life."

                                                ct

        

 
        Looking up.. soaring..

        Climbing the rough rock.. 
              filled with life thrusting out anywhere it can.

        Looking up.. at soaring..

        Happy ruddy faced, rough hands, climbing ever up.
         
        Looking up.. at gull and wind.. yearing 

        Disappearing for a time in dark damp valleys
      
        Suddenly scrambling hard up .. the peak, open, bright

        Taking firm stance, deep rooted, 

        wind ravaging through hair,  Gull closely circling,

        Extending the mountain into the wind.

        Mountain soaring on wings of hair. 


         (an image from a Mountain top below..)

                                            WL


        

  Above the Forest..
           soaring...
        alone, one gull..
            above the forest..
        soaring...
               one  free  living  life...

        The invisible air holding up, sustaining flight..

            The frantic, then resting, then frantic wing..

        holding up against the air.. sustaining flight..

        The slow turning glides...

           holding up through the air.. sustaining flight..
        
        From air's acceptance of wings onslaught.. 

           The sustaining union, of lift, and freedom...

        The Air passive but Wind, Air transendent...



        Wing slicing through,



                The wind only they can see..
         

         (reflections up from a glade below..)

                                            WL