He, with soft lies, a man, a wave cresting in sea

Laughing he walks, he runs, now listening to muse,
Jettisons from high mountain.

 

For: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/04/poetry-picnic-week-29-art-music-and.html

Fresh sight from the darkness which I of all men know

Oh high mountain I know,
Your snow-crowned peak, and tree line zigzagg’d floral skirt,
A space in which beauty takes first steps to decay,
Silent, hosannas–soft echoes, ringing only in your caverns,
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the shadows, the torch and types twisted and terse,
A crass and crude bare form, never approaching acme,
He, with soft lies, a man, a wave cresting in sea,
Laughing loud and loud.

Now wet with water wonderful causing tears

Fresh mud on eyes slight,
Fresh sight from the darkness which I of all men know.

Crash like wave-friends along Baltimore’s shore

Photo by Claire Anthony

Yes, when the clouds open’d,
And rain fell on the crops of a soil-cover’d man,
On simple soybean so careful sown,
Now wet with water wonderful causing tears.

Away from sharp wetness of the waves

Crash! crash! crash!
Crash like wave-friends along Baltimore’s shore;
You fly and you fly till you crash like sky thunder.

Nor on fair horizon, nor close by

But thousandmiles from winter in the wash of the waves,
But by day under the shine of the sun in warmer weather,
Away from sharp wetness of the waves,
Mind changing from hummings to hummings at night,
I felt, I knew the mountain’s rare earliest name, the sound-off,
The solitary wolf like Virginia.

Is More

Endurance.
Standing in the storm.
Sleep long gone.

For: http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/

Moon be close, or sun be far

And then the silence,
Moon-worn gown, billows oh so slight,
In shadow of far-off mount not in the state,
Nor on fair horizon, nor close by,
Nor within day’s walking.

Let me bathe you, dear son

My forever!
Waves crash east, or waves crash west,
Moon be close, or sun be far,
Springs, or rivers from mountains from springs,
Boiling all pasts, keeping no pasts,
While you taste sweet forever.

In perfect love the soft’ning touch of water, tender, with smooth skin

Come!  come!  come!
Let me bathe you, dear son!
While you wash, taste my forever.