The first time I ever listened to The Velvet Underground

A cool and holy
mid-May-dark
breaths
Jasmine and honeysuckle threaded through a needle
pierce the cloak of wet night draping over this valley
And along this winding ribbon of shiny road I remember
a night where I laid down
in a sloping yard
of mounded clover
In the same kind
of wet and holy dark
and under a tent of the same kind of air quilted with flowers
In the same kind
of night where the lines
of everything are etched in
deep time and a weighted glow
reveals the shadows of a face
like craters and seas of the moon only seen
during certain stages of a revolution I remember
the blooms of my heart
dripping
with
color

Where the unknown things are

Contemplate the future through a fever
Red cheeks hot
Solar flare through the crown of his head
Fitful tender wonderings of a child that begins to know himself
A genesis of awareness (the genesis of his awareness)
Infinite cloak of stars
Deep time and life’s parameters unravel in tandem
His distant self already knows the sound of his own whispers
that echo clearly
In a mysterious return
to a dream he doesn’t quiet remember

Cool April Night

Fall down
in a dark room
Cool night
Late April bed
Pillows deep
form soft tides around me
Neighbor’s narrow light glows through the window
Filtered through a thin cloth of
quilt blocks
The draping breaths
in a fan’s breeze
Breathing
As i breathe
and I’m listening
to slow music playing
lying next to me like a doll
I placed it there
At the hem of sleep we drift towards a genesis
and towards an end
Silent limbs weighted to an earthen bed
I am alone at the poles of sleep