Below Hague’s Peak (Eve)


“She is your before, sawed from your spirit, formed before, you were an atom, she was an Eve, before you.” – D.S.

She said, “I have always been above”. She said, “I have always been below”. He said, “I have found myself in each place, you go”. She said, “That’s how I found you”. He said, “It’s a dream of clues, isn’t it? A sweet dream of you”. She said, “No my love, it’s really you”.

It could be a refraction, or a dream from our birth, climbing ever northward from the highway where it curves. Around steep stones and cedars bearing snow crystals, beneath the Mummy’s range, strange dreams of deeds forgotten, your dress a long wedding train. Carrying us both laughing, your lips upon mine, shadows moving aside from where we tell them lay. Lay shadows lay. Oh, I could have been a lyricist that wrote of wrong love’s pain. But no that’s not the way we hold each other when life begins to rain. When it pours. When the screams come from where ghosts have lain. When it snows right here on top of a mountain chain. When piano keys tumble down, sounds my love, my eternal love for you.

It could be an essence, that leaves us here, scattered among the mountains, somewhere our love lost, somewhere standing together solid in the altitude, near Hague’s Peak, so cold. Our lines draining from our hearts, old places our lives together, familiars, no longer alone. Scattering, and hovering through this winter and last summer too. The windows of this high house breaking, opening, speaking. Frozen tongues, warming where eagles show, speaking to what has become me, and what will form you. For Darwin has not made us, nor are we of an archeological mold. Petrified angels, our stories just waiting to be told. More we are more. More we are more.

She came speaking my name near the rocks, close to the high stream, and she became a part of this everlasting poem. In a haste I asked her, her name, and I was blushing. She looked at me from high above the Colorado Mountains, those eternal thrones. She sighed, a sound which is of eternal syllables and symbols, and she said, “I am you”.

She said, “I have always been above”. She said, “I have always been below”. He said, “I have found myself in each place, you go”. She said, “That’s how I found you”. He said, “It’s a dream of clues, isn’t it? A sweet dream of you”.

She said, “No my love, it’s really you”.

For the spirit that has always been before me, created in that light that holds us both. For Susan. –08.03.2020 – דָנִיֵּאל

 

A Night by the Hours


“How did it get so late so soon?” – Dr. Seuss

I suppose we discovered our immortality on that perfect night, when the darkness moved by the hours. The night it had no name for it was all nights, all times, and I called you “Sweet Darlin” …

We wind ourselves around the western view; to me it is one color, for you it is several hues. A difference of opinion on a falling sun that takes away our breath, as in the east a large moon has begun. Our spirits take position in a higher place, silent in communion no words can they say. For they border on a boundary, of clouds and grace, an absolution of spatial logic, a jump into ghost held space. I hold onto your tight bodice, my lips drawn back as if to taste.  My teeth a sharpened color, white snow like, chaste that would be debased. In an instant, we huddle closer as if some spell would tell us so, a last walk on the skyline watching the evening as it flows. For it’s a night not held in sorrow, or an evening in shallow touch, but a darkness filled with flying, where no one ever says too much.

We have come to know a pattern, when the gloom draws us here. To this path below the snow-caps of “Twin Sisters” crooked leer. You say, “One looks like she is laughing”, I say, “No dear, that is a sneer”, you say, “what if for an argument”, I say, “you are just so weird. But in that moment when we draw our eyes together hands held wide against the sky, the sun tilting backwards on its even, for the night on which it dies. With our sightseeing further, as we call out to the night, come and take our lives immortal, under over kingdoms rights. It is earth that in the daytime, what it holds cannot appetize, but the glory of the night sky is by that, our paradise. Unadorned by life’s expectations, we have no breath in which to sigh. Glory, glory in our indifference, bodies unwinding, our cathedral the sky.

We separate not when the shades of night taste us; their own light shadows pass us by. We laugh without laughing, and memorize each precious instant, the largest of mountains we have yet to climb. “What say you’re an artist, what say I’m the painted”, I brush my hand against her moon-touched thigh. “What say we are without replication”, she sighs her lips drawn as if to cry. This night of all has moved in time, by hours, rhythms, and numbers that rhyme. We are different as we turn to the east and make our way home to sleep before we would know why. Before we would know why.

I suppose we discovered our immortality on that perfect night, when the darkness moved by the hours. The night it had no name for it was all nights, all times, and I called you “Sweet Darlin” …

For Susan – 01.15.2020 – דָנִיֵּאל

 

When Jimmy Plays


Sometimes a love song is dazed and confused!

I heard G_D made a woman to balance me, when I get mad, did G_D give that woman the right to know me beyond that. To take from my anger to take when I’m cruel to know with ingenuity my weakness when I’m cool. I heard G_D made a woman that knows me too, may be that’s why its heaven. blissful in the night when we talk, chaos when we screw. Chaos when we screw. So much for a madam, so much for anything that’s new. Who needs fake Teflon, when I got you? I’ll take what I have, because it’s better than good, and deeper dreams do come true. I’m listening to Jimmy Page while I look at you, over twenty-six years I’ve been looking at sweet you.

When the wind came down, chords falling, octave after octave, oh we hurt, like we never thought we could. Vows in light, real life in darkness, everything is suddenly round not square, not like the good book said. Jimmy’s playing his bow, oh the devil plays a bow, like lightning can strike a man’s soul. Children we got children, better than gold, better than pretty, we look at each other what are we going to do. They look so much like me, they look so much like you, what’s to imagine, I heard G_D made a woman, looks like that G_D made a man too. What we have here is a puzzle, what we have is me and you, oh, oh, oh, so sweet is life, when I’m dazed and confused. Sometimes a love song is dazed and confused.

I heard an overture, a dream, then I heard G_D made a woman to balance me. She stepped right on each loosed strand, each bow string off Jimmy Page’s hand. And I climbed an illusion that was hidden in me, the difference between me and Jimmy is I had her with me. For I saw the old man, she saw him too, and she told me, unlike that old man, I am going to make you be you. Go on now and play. Sometimes a love song is dazed and confused.

And we love for such a long time, for such a long time, while Jimmy plays, yes while Jimmy plays.

I heard G_D made a woman to balance me, when I am old, did G_D give that woman the right to know me beyond that. To take all I had taken and let me take it right back. To push me further, then I ever could push back, to push me further, then I ever could push back. I’m listening to Jimmy Page while I look at you, over twenty-six years I’ve been looking at sweet you. 05.25.18- דָּנִיֵּאל

Bread


Who would have thought it would still be you and me? You sing “Bread” to me, I cast myself away, it’s a “Sweet Surrender”.

She brings me from beneath the world, that gone dry from frigidly. That dark place without a soul, gone to places where blind men see. There in time, there in pain, a boy that knows how to tell tales untold, so selfishly, does he grow. Still she laughs and on we go. I am me, sometimes lost, hell fires landing, no Pentecost. No Peter or John, or Jesus too, just my tall woman humming “Bread” to sooth. So, there are worlds that I do see, strange little islands on the astral sea, and they mean something for when I’m lost, but not near enough for what they cost. Still unknown to me she hums “Sweet Surrender”.

For all the times, I’ve wondered from bed, found a highway, inside my head, made myself something for what I’m not. Formed silly reasons for pleasures, I don’t want. And no one knows except me and now you, no one knows what we been through. Still there’s something, a secret true, a better myth that brings me through. A mystery you will know now too. When she sings “Bread” I sleep the night through. She say’s “Your a better man, for what your not”.  Demons in my sleep, that are better not sought. A father, husband, hero, whose fight is still fought, but still I’m weak, when the battles are not, then, she play’s “Bread”, and my fears are fought.

I always promised hero’s that looked like me. Expansive, gregarious knights that sailed my stormy, storied seas. Still in all that, for what I was, my dangerous flirtations, with what I couldn’t see. You stayed right here arguing strong, a callous to a pair, but it made me strong. And when you sing, you sing “Bread” to me. A “Sweet Surrender”, and my G_D, I’m free, so very free.

Who would have thought it would still be you and me? You sing “Bread” to me, I cast myself away, it’s a “Sweet Surrender”.

For my Susan, I’m so glad you won! – 10.26.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

  • Bread- Sweet Surrender- All Rights

Summer of 92 (Your Song)


We are nearing a time where promises come true, when I have the money, to make assurances come through, when rings and sparkles, and castles are built in the sky. Still it’s quiet simple, these many years past, I was richer so much richer when I said I love you.

I knew you five months when I asked you in song, in rhyme my head bent, I asked you so strong, a quiet little melody a quiet little song, will you please now marry me, I know we’ll last long. Oh words in wet summer, our beach and our sand, our quiet little Camelot where we dreamed we would stand, and babies and caravans of spices for good, we would be forever, just as we should. Oh Susan my mistress, my wife and my life, that summer I knew you would be all my life, and on we would journey our hands so entwined, my classic enchantment my spell in my life. For you there are gathered outside where I stand, a world and a future, the best in my plan. That Florida sweet sunset, the heat filled the sand, a strange horizon of mountains just ahead, we’d scale them like Everest, and climb them with tears, for real was our tragedies, so telling our fears. No life of illusion, no answers so clear.

But just as so promised, and so well planned, from here we hear music that song in our ears, your song, in the highland I’ll take you there when I can.

That September majic, I fashioned a song, of green eyes in summer and dreams of year long, and brought myself down from a height I’d placed there, to play you an overture of pleasure to bare, and there we stood then, as we do stand now. Two shadows forever, entwined with our vows. My knees felt so bruised from kneeling as a knight, for you my Guinevere, for you my wife.

I thought I a rich man, for what I had with you, for a poor man with love, knows better of what’s better then new. For in that moment when you said yes, I grew my life better, I made it with you.

We are nearing a time where promises come true, when I have the money, to make assurances come through, when rings and sparkles, and castles are built in the sky. Still it’s quiet simple, these many years past, I was richer so much richer when I said I love you. – 02.18.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Heart (A Song for You)


It seems forever since I wrote you a rhyme, I know you’ve never asked me too but still I think it’s time, to let you know forever’s not moved beyond a promise, to let you feel the rhythm in my heart that’s just for you.

I want to be so careful with the words I have to say. Nothings more insincere than to play the part of play, the man who writes these fortunes, holds his world for you, it’s folded all together like a heart “A song for you”.

I heard that Augustus said to Livia just before he died, “Have I played the part well? Then applaud as I would die”. It seems such a misfortune, that Caesar would think so, that parts of love are just a play, an actor going solo. But oh my love just this stage, this life that we now live, a boy a man, I love to say, this is what I give. For you are all the darkness, the light when I see, you have been the map of seasons that charts the waves of seas. And I would not be Caesar, and say words of play, just before I died in treasure, having ruled the day. The man who writes these fortunes, holds his world for you, it’s folded all together like a heart “A song for you”.

I’ve spoken of some history, now I’ll speak of present day, may be look into the future if you think that would be okay. For now, this glass we look through, stares surely into high stars, charts the course of builders, to sail and fly so far. I feel my heart is ready, better than it’s ever been, to live the kind of promise, just like I said I would back when. To let you know I’m able, my promise ever real, this present or the future, to live what’s been fulfilled. And as I stand upon life’s stage my heart coming still, I’ll look into the face of love, and know these words are real. The man who writes these fortunes, holds his world for you, it’s folded all together like a heart “A song for you”.

For my wife Susan on Valentine’s Day, I love you. – 02.14.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל 



Fun in Two


Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. All that I thought, that would make us true, all of my dreams are poor in comparison to truth, the thing that is all, when strangers are new, the beginning of all we had is better in fun in two. A lightning has come, that strikes glass through, a shining light of phosphorous love that seers we two, and all of the stars, and all of the past, historical ghost of spirits, that make us last. My thought of it all, is me in you, my head spinning round makes fun in two.

There is an ark, a mountain pass, a place of shadows in the beginning that seem to last. I would strip down, and make you laugh, you would strip too, and pain would pass, all of its right, from what we’ve been through, taking a story of legend, and making it true. Calling down daemons, calling down sun, twisting the balance of the two now that is fun. When there are tales spun by the fire, when there is time, and we have felt are spirits expire, we will arise, and make change new. While all around us terror, fights without a clue. All of it’s me, damn sure that it’s you, twisting and falling making love it’s fun in two.

Looks like I’m grey, with a wrinkle or two, climbing mountains has made me this way, and then there’s you. You make me grow young, with a spell or two, my witch I’m your fan forever, fun in two. Can we go out, go out in the dark, can we live on this mountain together and jump the shark. I think I’ll smile, and grab you, and as we go on together I bet it’s fun in two. Forever and ever I bet it’s fun with you.

Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. – 01.05.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Melancholia (if an angel, an angel came)


Real is where we are right now, so cold and rare that I see you, blended in a fairer side, taste me more than I taste you. Cobblestones well most can’t feel, that heel that’s bruised it’s me and you, shadow comes and twilight bends, and then its dark and how it rains, it rains. Rare a storm that ever ends, but melancholia, loves such sin, to bring the soul to just one drop of where the wind does end, so silent in the end. I thought it such a single road, a sharp thought held in poet’s prose, a rose that’s died and then turned blue, I thought me better than you, and then there comes the truth.

Melancholia, a place of art, a sociopathic kind of start, the creative side of blue, the street where daemons stare at you. A genesis, we title fun, beginning gothic, self-persona of. An innocent prick of the pin that draws pictures in the blood of sin, and there in silence while eyes stare old. Those wild perusing, rhymes so cold, that melancholia without end, that rules the world without the wind, and oh what love it’s lost within. For all is downward in a trend, and just as dusk comes in self-pain, narcissistic endeavor in black rain. To walk and draw such art in mind, self-absorbed, descent in mind, and what would happen in this pain if an angel, an angel came.

…. if an angel, an angel came!!!!

A cover warms me, keeps me dry, a strong willed woman, who does not lie, a shield from prying eyes that cry. An instrument formed from G_D’s own why. A blend of treasure, laughing through, over and over and its truth. She says you’ll write where there is wind, and stop, the torture that’s within, and what must go, must go first, that melancholia, that is of earth, that self-absorption from within, that dank dark secret that just pretends. For this strange journey must endure, with light around you, of that I’m sure, for melancholia cannot win, I see those eyes, and they are pure, but those behind you, you must fight, for you are worth to be of light, to be of light.

Real is where we are right now, so cold and rare that I see you, blended in a fairer side, taste me more than I taste you.

For my wife Susan who is my angel – 10.09.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Love above Water


Shall we fly above the water without our egos looking down, cross the raging foam of oceans where troubles often found? Shall we look at all the tempest that divides a world in two, personality disorders, between a couple fighting through? For there is a book of notions, that is written without a clue, that it says to love each other, we must become something new. Oh I would not deceive you, for I’ve seen the storm below, and if that liquid overtakes us then we sink to what we know. For what we know there in relationship, is heavy shameful words, and they complicate emotion from the scars of history gleaned. For it bears so worth repeating that it’s almost worth a scream, keep your love above the water, where the air is pristine clean.

Do you think there is a passage that runs beneath the ocean floor, filled with Freud and all his articles, what’s your personality for? Maybe Jesus or some great monk holds your souls within their hands, just beneath the Mediterranean, might be where your marriage stands. Have you thought it might be possible to divest from one and two, look at this your own failings forgive one, and bend for two. It could be time above the water, not invested in things of man. Not in social, scripted media, or somebody else’s plan, not a book in light of Buddha, not a wise man from the east, turn your honest eyes to others, tame the lust that is the beast. It is not a plan of heaven, it is not a smile than frown, it is consummating eye to eye, where your love will soon be found.

Shall we fly above the water, leave your childhood on its own, take yourself as wonder living, a simple breath that is your own. Come you now to one another without wave and weight of time, love your soul within another, above the water where there’s sky. Oh it is a special cadence that beats far within your bones, when you come to one another without personality or a home, and you turn in spinning laughter, holding hands in what is found. For above this life of water, love is found above, so sound.06.23.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Songs in the Attic (I’ve loved These Days)

Billy was playing the other night on the patio, the grill going, and as I stole from Billy’s soul, I realized I was finally home, and how I’ve loved these days.

Would you reach me, teach me, here on my stoop, before summer comes, before the rain, falls and ruins this food I cook.  Billy, Billy, songs a time of hello and goodbye, while the world goes by, as the time reaches, and “Captain Jack” tokes me high  And I stare, woman I’m so high. Scales, and keys, octaves and pleas, for love, for lights on Broadway. The lights on the patio go, but hell no, not Billy’s show, the music, I hear it all the way from 42nd street. The Queens, the Bronx, and Manhattan goes right out to my grass to my weeds, and still he sings, on he sings.

I say this is a mighty time, the best of rhyme, a beer, and as Highland Falls plays, either sadness or euphoria, a wonder of all Gloria. She looks through a curtain a glass, the grill glows, a house still standing, a slab of concrete with a street life serenader, complete, this life so complete.

I light the torches, Los Angelenos, for concrete cooking, a song that sways. For all we know now, in all we listen, this song of city, and on he plays. My, my it’s past time, the darkness falling, Long Island Billy just makes my day. She’s got away now, beyond those curtains, she’s inside now, and soon I’ll reach like Billy to take her away, where grownups play.

A mighty time, where music forces light to still stay, over the foothills, “Songs in the Attic” continue to play. The house needs painting, but for tonight, it just looks okay, for just a little push, and yep, I’ll be smiling. It strikes me then, as I listen to the gypsy, to the devil in Billy’s soul, the kid he wants me to say…I have everything, for everything in this life has gone my way. It’s a mighty time, to end the day, for Susan, your right here, “I’ve loved these days”.

Billy was playing the other night on the patio, the grill going, and as I stole from Billy’s soul, I realized I was finally home and how I’ve loved these days. – 06.15.2015 דָּנִיֵּאל

All Rights to “Songs in the Attic” – Billy Joel