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be here now

flame, feather
flicker a blood red
shell in and out
of yourself. i. and
agents.

the wheat grass is rising in
balmy winded plains. your steel
is vibrating against finger
against air
Ray, against my ears.

the wind of such subtle voices
grumbling and aching of
loneliness

the atmosphere of you is eternal
and palatable. invasive and
expansive.

and i dwindle to dust
in your shadow.

chaff for the wind
and on her back
this night, under
veiled moon, i
would gladly
ride.

you dance, barefoot before me
and in slow frames your
laughter haunts even
my sunniest
secrets.

i always feel this way, and Ray too.
so empty, so past forgotten.

the sunlight in sliced beams
cuts corners out of the grizzly
air and plays games with
the white petaled daisies marked
proudly in the curls of your hair.

we pause, while he illuminates us
with smooth counterpoint and two
forbidden voices meet embracing
in the star plaid sky.

this time, my dear, it is all just for
you. soul and slender and words
spoken over candle light. words
the wind forgets for fear the blush.

and i, aye, call you to myself, and Ray too.

the spider lilies are uprooting themselves
skirts lifted, they ride the wind
wrapped ’round the mountain.

they ride the wind right out of sight.

**if this invokes a particular emotion, please share.

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9 thoughts on “be here now

  1. “the atmosphere of you is eternal
    and palatable. invasion and
    expansive.

    and i dwindle to dust
    in your shadow.

    your description of the atmosphere is
    so complete and clear.
    the last two lines I had to
    read several times. I love the combination of dwindle dust and shadow.

  2. i think the last line should be outta sight. that’s what i hear.
    and i love “grizzly air.”
    this evokes a bunch of not-particular emotions for me, so i’ll keep em to myself. 🙂

  3. Sonny says:

    One of my favorite memories is of the Western Coast of Ireland– standing on a jagged cliff with a misty wind whipping about me. Below the ocean was powerful, famished, insatiable– crashing against the rock. Above– the sky seemed one transparent layer upon layer– a mere breath away from releasing me into the universe.

    This poem feels that way to me… so much space. So much to see and feel.

    in slow frames your
    laughter haunts even
    my sunniest
    secrets

    There’s an timelessness to this one– I particularly like the line above. Perhaps because I’ve come to believe that as time goes on, we collect our ghosts. Those ghosts never leave us. Sometimes their spirits are so strong it’s all we can do to remember they are only ghosts– whisperings of where we’ve been.

    I reread this one many times. The last several poems you’ve posted have such a soul to them. An ache even.

  4. This, I have to say, is one of the best you’ve written – I’ve read it 3 times now and will probably come back and ponder it yet again later. It’s so rich an emotion that feels so familiar to me – competing with the memory of someone you can’t possibly compete against. So beautifully written… really, truly, one of your best. Congrats.

  5. Thanks for all the comments.

    This poem was written and re-written 4 times. In fact, I have a couple of bumpy words I want to “fix.” However, when I finished it, I lit a fresh cigarette, turned up my turntable and read it, over and over. It caused so many tumultuous emotions in me that I was always relieved when I got to the end, and as with the spider lilies, it seemed as if my troubles just flew away too. And not just flew away, but they flew away behind a mountain. One thing about mountains, you simply cannot see whats on the other side. So whatever it is that’s over there, on the otherside, might as well not exist. So there was something in the release at the end that made the whole journey of reading it and experiencing the emotions attached to it, worthwhile. Kind of like sex.

    So, if you’d like to capture that moment the exact way I did, listen to Ray LaMontange’s “Empty” while you read. It’s what I was listening too as I wrote it and that is the “Ray” referred to a couple of times in the poem.

    Ray LaMontange’s “Empty”

    To complete the experience you would need to be stoned, but I’d never condone something like that in a public forum.

  6. who doesnt love Ray?
    altho he was eccentric and all anti-commercialism when he did that special for the Abbey Road studios. then sold his song for a commercial. empty pockets ray?
    I like “Trouble”. makes me weep, he is so soulful.
    I didnt know he was from Western Mass…
    Marian you are so hip.

  7. he is not from here, but he now lives here, out in them thar hills.
    i believe he grew up in Maine and maybe VT, and also spent a chunk of growing up in Utah. interesting!
    and oh yes, i am hip.

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