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I escape to the boat
away from the lull of food and wine
and small after-lunch conversations
out to the cold rasp and lash of salt air
gulping in the clean, clear air in mouthfuls
hungry for horizon
for moments without reasons
for motion without walls, for unfolding
for the happening that happens
because of itself and for itself
like the great plumed cirrus reclining
self-content as Buddha over the Var.
Opening the sails
i plunge Vanessa into the black troughs
she comes back head up like a dolphin diving
a free and singular mind
a roaring spirit shunting and nuzzling the water
as city and culture fall behind
my heart soars in sea and sky
exhulting, invigorated, redeemed:
sailing, like love-making, is full of god
and like love, it is the the art of being.
Rounding St. Honorat
the tide is deep in the stern, cleaving in the bows
she takes me with her, rolls to one side
and i let her over as far as she wants,
straining for sea, then reign her in, pulling hard
she braces, turning, and comes around head down
the sea is fighting us hard now
I keep the touch light
she responds, thrusting deep into the swell
groaning, ready, i sense the moment coming
and suddenly she sinks down into perfect rhythm
riding flat out, leading the cavalry of white horses
charging the thin line of horizon
and all becomes harmony, rhythmicity, union;
close your eyes, close your eyes
everything is here, close your eyes, be still…
Now, full in the open sea
the Mistral heaves her
and i set her down into the black swell
coaxing her firmly westward
toward St. Tropez.
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MISTRAL
CANNES, FRANCE
Hushed love
tender like sun-heat against your face-skin
through the plexiglass
hand in angelic hand
high wordless place over the torn blue world
heal, reconcile, illuminate
with an around-the-world
ubiquity of reach:
ionospheric sunlight-like love shining
where never was permitted
morning.
Hurry love, quickly
down these eso-erotic corridors
before jealous aphrodite finds us in her sky
stride-on with long-legged wings
toward the heavenly clay
take me to you
in my singularity give me your forms
in my multiplicity make me one
from obsessionality free me
from apathy bleed me and
in the sun-around-the-permitted-world
be me
I'll be you.
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HUSHED LOVE
AIRSPACE
Grey October rain
washes down dawn Parisian jungles
from interior darkness of train
sun wages war on tenemental widows
scratches to bleeding the elemental pane
and the black blood of rain
crushed from cloud-grape
spits in my veins
​
among the graffitti on red-blue walls
i see the puzzle in a child’s hand scrawled:
‘Why did you die on me Sevaelle?’
​
Mind, wide eyed with incomprehensions
crumbled under the flailing walls
as the sky caved in
black notes rose like crows from the Underground
and u danced while i, cataleptic Idiot,
convulsed and bled on your bed
In a skidding jet make notes
on the runway at Malaga
i wake with your name inside me,
full of the peaceful insanity of dreams
knowing I can’t replace you,
nor the mandalas you have called into being
​
There is a moment without compassion
when the matador drives the blade
between the shoulders
and the air is horrible with the slow dance of dying
but you spilt more blood
than anything i’ve seen in Spain
​
Towns flicker by; St. Germaine, Richelieu, Saumur
becoming visible, then graphic, then memory
i try to scream but no sound comes
just my heart beating like a bass
over the wheels of a long train
pouring down south in the darkening of evening
red-bleu
‘Where are you Sevaelle, where are you?’
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ZUM TODE
PARIS, FRANCE
The Chalice lives in the parched sky
the distance uncertain in the flitting mist
the Blood Sun glints on its lip
the Wind fills full its Cup
The world is soaked in Holy Wine
taste oh taste the Healing!
drink life drink and live
outside of Time Place Meaning
The Sentence is spired by the Word
life is a soft kiss a rose a sword
but for you me and the invisible sky
Death sits like grit in the Diamond
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CHALICE
MADRID, SPAIN
In the blue-pink sky
the bamboo trees bend
until you can almost see your life:
spirit-forms fleeting in an aching sky.
In the gut-wrenching free-fall of near-death
out at the edge of yourself
you kiss fully again
kiss like a song
full-throated
and with all of your body.
And the doubts you doubt
are just the Underworld hissing as you rise
hating with its hatred
of all things free and wild and clear
and sending out the Dark Beings of Anti-love
to poison and crush you
and the truths you’ve wed.
​
For in this shadowed, fractured world
you have perceived the spirits that shape
the still-quiet of trees at evening
froth on a pouring stream
ancient sunlights
all colours warm.
And deep inside the Firestorm
Muses call the Ancient Prayers over you
and the Gods that live in all things that Love
whisper in you
”This is good my child,
this is good”.
​
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FIRESTORM
DUBLIN, IRELAND