Places

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

Come and find me in this garden;

I know not where the hours go.

Palm fronds brush against my cheek –

Lone toadstool, blush of mallow.

They say this is the Garden of Eden –

Rocks of lichen, red yucca.

But I think this is probably heaven –

Birds-of-paradise and vinca.

You will find here a green shelter;

Shade fills the inner sanctuary.

Canaries whistle o'er yonder –

Dew drops on a banana leaf.

Let's be as kids like we once were;

Take my hand, let's go find its end.

Make a wish on a four-leaf clover –

White passion vine, black-eyed Susan.

Heaven can wait if we persevere.

Let my bosom be your headrest.

Morning glories open to the day;

Sure feels like we're heaven-blessed.

~~~~~~~

What a curtain Bisbee has

That keeps Mexico subdued

And influences the lands

From which the Sierra was hewn.

What purple folds keep Oaxaca

As a fortress in the sky

Breaking only in Panama

To let a vessel dredge by.

No courier have I on hand

Except the initial breezes that blow

So a whisper I channel into it:

Give to Colombia my hello.

~~~~~~~

Kalimba notes drift out

To my delighted ear

As if the Matobo plains

Were conveyed from afar.

The tines - reverberating -

Complete an ethereal bar.

Each bar - artfully plucked -

Speaks kindly to my heart.

~~~~~~~

On Havana's white shore –

With each salt-infused whirl

That agitates its border –

Every sand is a potential pearl.

~~~~~~~

Through a break in the trees -

Flows a tawny river -

Sanding the rock endlessly

As a peerless carver.

The jungle is not seen

In the murky water's face.

The sky does not skim upon

Its delicate countenance.

It refuses the trees' approach.

The rushing seeks to replace

Tribulations for peace -

Skipping them away.

Its waters fill my mind.

I remember Zongo Falls

As an obscure haven

For which my heart longs.

~~~~~~~

Great and Rugged Pyrenees

Whose solid presence demands

Notice of lush valleys

And Spanish oaks that dot the glens -

Prevailing winds churn in wrath -

I stop to breathe in them;

You cut the horizon in half

And grip my eye with icy hands.

Your cohort - a mix of clouds -

Can't forever hide your majesty.

Seville looks on from the south;

Andorra sings the victory.

~~~~~~~

TRIOLET #4

A wider landscape I see beyond;

It beckons to me from afar.

The land has a kaleidoscope dawn

And many wonders that lay beyond.

Run your hands over its grasses blonde;

Catch a whiff of its sacred rose attar.

To a kinder landscape I go beyond;

Someday it will beckon no more.

~~~~~~~

The Sahara is another vast sea

Of zero-edge horizons

And remote hours of austerity

For "sailors" upon caravans

And the Sun beams mercilessly

And seems cruel to patrons

Until the Wind scoffs haggardly

And reshapes its art of dunes.

~~~~~~~

El Capitan - you are a joint

Within the Sierra Nevadas

Of punctuated granite -

A sentinel of the ages.

Sylvestris partition -

Beam of silver - or steel -

Are you a step to heaven

Or a capstone for hell?

Stern expression of peace -

Keeper of fortitude -

Of what would you speak?

Would I even understand you?

~~~~~~~

RONDEAU #1

At Wounded Knee, we haunt the hill

Where many moons ago we were killed

As herds of buffalo wax and wane

And big sky and silence don't profane

But bless the land where once we fell.

The Men and our beloved Sitting Bull

Women and Young commune one and all;

We love, we laugh and we dance for rain

At Wounded Knee.

Be not fooled by the silence of the hill

For the air above our bones is not still

But stirring among the oaks and grain

Our fleeting spirits wait not in vain

To arise and breathe again and we shall

At Wounded Knee.

~~~~~~~

Many-hued pubs bid me welcome

As would friends on the street

And so does Cromwell Bridge

Where long ago we first met.

I see the fields where we played

And plucked up the kerry violets.

I gaze out over the dark bay

Reflecting our lives as glass.

Memories live but a season

And like a photograph

And erelong, I will be as one

Fading - crumbling fast.

When you are old and banjaxed

Will you still remember

And find there my countenance

Among the leas of Kenmare?

~~~~~~~

I know a place

Where one can lounge

And drink a refreshing dew

Where no worry survives

Where no sounds intrude

Where angels on its pathways

At times may be found

And religion is one truth

Where foundation meets clouds;

A place of peace.

It's under mesquite trees

Over their medusan roots

And below the blazing sun

And its omnipotent proofs.

It's by the pale mescals

Under a tender stalk

Between granite boulders

In shades of ochre and chalk

And among the cactus

Where there is silence.

~~~~~~~

Rabat is a black pearl

Of cellophanic rainbow

Gazing upon waves that curl

And lick a shore little known.

Gibraltar is the dock

Where it steadfast moors –

Enjoying sailboats that flock

The Mediterranean course

Yet Barbary lions live

Not far, in the Rif Mountains –

Golden, assertive –

Their kasbah amid the grass.