Pilgrimage: Week 21: Small Town

Blue Lake is small
and though it is growing
every year it gets smaller
the school like the river
is shrinking
here and there a house settles
then lurches into the damp earth
leaning crazily against the clothesline
the brewery is busy
and the Dell' Arte School of Physical
Theater sends its clowns and actors
to sidewalks In Delhi and schools in Sweden
no matter how many people come in
others go out
Blue Lake is small

Whisper

Skin so pale she nearly wasn't
there. As I crossed the green
grass. Only the bubbles she blew
knew her poisonous lips apple. 
Moth blush eyelids. One thousand
deaths embroidered on her chest.
Vest of China on the green ship
crossing the plaza this apple
evening I wanted to dance us 
back to life. Wanted to die again 
with her whispering innocently 
from the red womb. Sister of nails.
Third eye gem. Face whisper.

Satin

in France it's called
peau de soie or skin of silk
the soft sheen of blushes

Showers of Flowers

every few yards
a glorious rose
appears like Gabriel
announcing good news
Spring has come
in gay profusion
the plum blossoms fall
on the walkways
as we in bliss
walk on

Grope: The Pilgrim Falters but Gets Up Again

Odes & Offerings: Santa Fe 

Stiff and holding, blind heads
Hands up for armor as we
battle moths and dry skies; allergies 
to love and one leg in the corner of critical
recall which will prevail I have 
no doubt now as I blindly head
deep into the rosy center with moth
wings for legs and a crib to curb
my childish sight. 
The art is in; the winner is 
anyone who reads 
this, groping.

Pilgrimage: Roses

as I returned from the cemetery
I saw rose after rose
in April profusion
I then walked into the petal
centered with sweet musk
and went to sleep

Companion Pilgrim. No longer counting.

Stone eyes open to thought and the book that is chipped as companion Who would have thought we could begin again like this The prayer beads of marble The petals of the Spring gather like pods of marriage rekindling The robe of rough cloth giving way to the nakedness of the eyes open to the companion the chipped petals gathering like beads.