The Ides of Harvest


“The secret to harvesting is to live dangerously” – Friedrich Nietzsche

In the ides of harvest I.

No more writing of the night, hidden darkness, forbidden sights, no thinking of the gloom of what must may. No more investigating dreams, without a purpose of what they mean. No more kneeling to the evening that precedes the day. No more hunting keys for some, when the all is all for one, no more waiting on a shadow that has been staid. For here, I stand with you and me, six feet apart baptized by dew, looking well beyond the sickness and the grave. In the valley forms a storm, but here on high ground we are born, in the ides of harvest, come we spirit in all a blaze. For nothing happened all before, that counts defeat or evens score, hail the soul of one seed formed that takes the day.

In this the daybreak of future time, summoned by light that sails the mind, am I fool to think that it would be any other way. For you know me from a seed, as you formed my very feet, kiss you now my forehead standing still this early day. To the ides of harvest now. Here I take a fulfilled vow. Pass it forward so all will know how, my soul was made.

How my soul was made.

In the ides of harvest I, not in shadows with no eyes, before the dawn just one seed before the king. Began I, than you and me on the higher ground we grew, kissed she with her wet, wet mouth of dawn’s first virgin dew. In the sun of all delight, did we sing of heaven’s sight, in coronation of days to come oh how we grew? From the steppes of all we are, gathered dust from sun soaked stars, hail the soul of one seed formed that takes the day.

In the ides of harvest I.

Not the darkest of hidden night, not shame that blinds all sight, not the barren, not the question never destined to be free. Not the lack of grace are we, not forced by death on our knees, not the night song ever longing, will we be. Not depression or new moon, bent or broken, never bloomed; I for one will never separate from you or me. I for one will never separate from you or me. – 03.19.2020 – דָנִיֵּאל

Mahogany Rush


It is starting to rain now, the jagged tops of the Flatirons disappearing in a Mahogany sky, swirls of vapor dragging down across the Boulder valley, the other world, is coming to Boulder in the rain!

Mahogany rush came through the May evening, just before it began to rain. The brown clouds move slowly over Boulder decreasing my heartbeat in its place. Indulgences of a figure moving quickly, giving moisture to my mouth, and then running slowly, with wetness, cold fumes are running south. A minute of amber liquid, not certain a chocolate stout, and outside it moves to rain. And all along the Front Range the rush came, sweet mahogany, a lower feeling, more stories moving from thunder to grace. Most of the time I see disappointment, a great deal of the time I feel blue. Matters not though really for in Mahogany I see truth. And truth is an answer that’s mellow better than youth. Only once in your life do you feel young enough, to know you’re really you.

Mahogany rush filled all the sky, crushed my ego in my view. Came sweeping through the St. Vrain grail, in glacier waters so blue. Said she wanted me forever, but first I must be new, like that of a young man seeking, that greater point of view. For life has an answer, when sometimes you do not have one clue. So, fill me with your storm clouds, and rain a story in my view. For Mahogany rushes me into heaven, draws its pictures in the rain, this back and forth endeavor. I feel somehow different, what is it I have gained. Though I may have my reasons, though I may have my pride, still I will tell you in dusk filled redness, mahogany rushes still inside.

Mahogany rush was naked, in the streams of a mountain side, a bad side of goodness, that laughed when I cried. But still she took me to her, and nursed me and made me try, for love is softer than silence, and sex is a man whose soul is tried. And sometimes the steppes of Longs Peak, brings me to its side, says the ghost of mystery, look to my clouds underside. For rain it is your mystery, words your heart without lies. Let all my mahogany rush gasping from out your inside. From out your inside! – 05.31.2018 – דָנִיֵּאל

The Joy (Lost Stars)

(Lost Stars)

There is joy in just a shadow, there are smiles in a cry, there is unbelievable mystery, when you think you’re not worthwhile. There is pleasure in a cigar on a beach when your wicked and defiled, you’re the worth of all the heavens, your G_D’s child. You’re the emporium of all lessons you’re the flirt that brings the smile, you’re the dream that I’ve been given when you’ve given your worthwhile. You’re the heaven, living water, that makes a witch smile, your forever, human living, come make G_D smile.

I was looking at the pictures of where I used to be, just a white boy on the Rez, listening to the wind, and hearing it scream. If you really think about it I was a strange child out there, a Bilagáana with neurons twisted weirdly under my hair. There stood I, little Danny singing the “No Dark Valley” sing, and on the bluffs above the river there rose a bunch of wings.

The crows they flew upwards and covered the light, there rotating wings blocked the heat from my sight, Gloria with trepidation came in coolness from their circular flight, and it’s true that there is joy in everything.

(Lost Stars)

There’s joy in the moment of minds in bloom, of reacting to little ones who teach us what’s new. There’s joy in running till you can’t breathe, up mountains so high, where the clouds are so far beneath. There’s joy in darkness, when grief cuts like knives, and severs your connection, and then wails to you goodbye. There’s joy in renewing what you thought was beyond your belief, and gaining your freedom, while inhabited by your spirits, that prosper when you receive.

Well you think that maybe I just go back, and reside in history, but I’m here to tell you, I’m possessed by eschatology, for the world has grown in color as I travel to a man, and here’s what happened now and then.

From that moment on the bluffs, when I saw the water deep, with the crows taking heaven over my head when I did not sleep. Oh the joy that did happen when I was just a child, I will take you with my memory, now were a child.

(Lost Stars)

There is joy in just a shadow, there is smiles in a cry, there is unbelievable mystery, when you think you’re not worthwhile. There is pleasure in a cigar on a beach when your wicked and defiled, you’re the worth of all the heavens, your G_D’s child. You’re the emporium of all lessons you’re the flirt that brings the smile, you’re the dream that I’ve been given when you’ve given your worthwhile. You’re the heaven, living water, that makes a witch smile, your forever, human living, come make G_D smile.

(Lost Stars)

A peculiar kind of joy has placed itself in me, like a boy of yesterday, I think it makes me free, makes me want to bring you with me over highland beyond the sea, take you in the joy of immortality. That’s it, I’ll take you with me in the joy of immortality. Lose you with me in lost stars. – 05.25.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל


The Ghost of Lucy Gilpin


Hello, Hello, I have come back to see, what’s happened all these years, what’s thought of me, I thought of all the breath that was inside of me, thought it wanted loose, so I set it free!

Most of the day she listened, taking in all the shadows of the years, from all of the waves on the Colorado, to above where the eagle fly’s and nothings ever feared. She thinks that on the earth below, there could be hearts in treasured cloves, down among the trees, where aspen can’t even count all there many leaves, it matters not, for she is free. She moves from book to book, learning more and more, for everything she reads, she thinks natures teaches more. So it is at night, when her past comes to light, she goes outside and breathes, five thousand feet above Denver, she screams, a part of what she claims of setting herself free.

Judeo-Christian crimes, all of western culture, likes to whine, she says, the truth is, she’s risen from the dead, not victim of creed. A witch that seeks the upper thin air in glee, she says what a find the Flatirons touch her soul, when she climbs, so free, better high altitude without mediocrity. One spell is all she knows, from those words comes more. Gloria, without the bells, the girl in a full grown woman born, and oh you know, the witch they say is young and gray, not so true, not so true, she is older than time, for her climb, has led her to the very face of G-D, he’s not excelsis, but what light. Oh those who ask for what an adventurous sight. So she sees, then she screams, a part of what she claims of setting herself free.

The mountains move, high above the front range, all things do, and she knows, she is changing with the high air ebb and flow. Could it be, all those things that made her chained now make her free, in the light. Climb the rocky stairway flight, things unseen, the witch of the flatirons is so free, is so free, immortal all beloved of the high air sea, oh now child, G-D knows you are only thirteen, just a spirit, just a child, setting herself free. Better then, she thinks, better than to know all that’s been, or come before, better than to touch the face of G-D so high. So she sees, then she screams, a part of what she claims of setting herself free.

Hello, Hello, I have come back to see, what’s happened all these years, what’s thought of me, I thought of all the breath that was inside of me, thought it wanted loose, so I set it free!

Lucy Gilpin was thirteen when she committed suicide upon Flagstaff Mountain near Boulder Colorado in 1925. She thought herself a spirit before she died, and became one after her death, so reads her headstone in the Salina Cemetery beyond the seven hills near Boulder Colorado. – 01.22.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Jack (1991)


We were running, around the bend of Pensacola bay, it’s around 10:30 the night is making gasping noises all around us. It was August and hot, that’s the way it is there always hot. He stops suddenly, and I stop too. Worried, maybe it’s his diabetes, maybe his age. “It’s more”, he says, “much greater”, “it’s Jack”. “You’ll love this” he says, the lines around his Irish depressed eyes alive and smiling, even when he’s crying, he’s smiling, the draw of the Irish I suppose, that and his friendship that never goes away.

“That boy Jack” …

He calls his old man from Tallahassee, a number he dials frequently, his voice is damned determined, waking Tom as he fights vermin, in a dream that brings him against the Holy See. Dad he says I’ve come against a sheriff, one who doesn’t understand, the lad I want to be. For if my latitude was proper, I’d drink whiskey from Tampa, to Sumter, and no law man would dare bother me. Dad all I want to do is drive highways, draw simple castles in my mind, occasionally love a girl, feel her body and her curls, should this be for anyone a crime, why is it for me. Tom he listens like a grandpa, it’s easier than the thought of the Dad he has to be, and then he brings himself awake, his body at fifty-four it aches, and off upon an Interstate he speeds. His old Chrysler, is so faithful, it goes forever, and never bleeds, it’s just like he.

His thoughts of Jack are drawn on a rune, an indescribable of a creed, the boy who in his heart wants to move mountains, it’s in his will where nothing happens, a lack of desire, or motivation, commitment or need. Still for his Jack, he flies on a spirit, and in his Irish blue eyes, he always believes, the dreamer in the boy, is a poet that’s lost in the sunshine. It’s his nightmares in darkness that causes him to bleed, if he could choke away one terror, he’d rock the world, and be all he could be.

He thinks of Jack as if he were a fable, a story that professes a certain need, and all of his life, a lesson learned harshly when you begin to bleed, Jack he always gives back more than everything he needs. He’s twenty years of spirit from a bottle, a son of G_D that dreams of favor from all he receives, a gift of charm, that gives and takes, a blessing of a child self-made, better than anything he ever thought he’d see. Tom he drives and rescues his revival, a drunken son, whose blond hair blows in the wet southern breeze. A faraway look in his eyes, Jack looks at his Dad and begins to cry, nobody ever understands, the things that I need, oh Daddy take me home, that’s what I need. And so they drive, and together their hearts receive, better than so many in this world who have need. Better than so many in this world who have need. – 01.10.2016 –  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

Dew of Light (Papercuts)


*”You as dead, you there, you will live, all my dead bodies shall rise up! Wake up, and sing and dance, you laying there so discouraged, laying in dust. You see your tears, those you forget to cry, or don’t know how to cry, those tears are as the dew of light in my eyes. And this earth my earth, all the earth, the earth everywhere, shall bring to life your shadows”.

Into the dawn, the fourth has come, the resolutions of past night are fading. Glory to some, party hats still on, a new year is dawned, already breaking. Some look to stars, fairy tale dark, a change of the season worth taking. One who would come, a new year is spun, an end of a night past years shaking. A grand rite for some, forward to the dawn, whatever the time, from party to rhyme, whatever the year, it’s all about cheer, it’s all about cheer.

Oh, but there those beggar’s stares, those low in the shadow, dank bleeding, those who have none, no new year has come, what trust in a sum, their hearts receding. Deep city streets, deeper than deep, no political smile is seeking. What trust do they take, for dead or forsake, one day after day whatever they find, a year at a time, one year at a time.

What would it be to utter free, a sound of the keep of freedom, a dew that is light, a new year to find, a trust for the ones who our bleeding. What wonder to be a new day to seek for each day a light worth reaping. Of strange joy, unblemished toys, a song in the soul of receiving. Those wounds that were deep, healing believed, a paper cut, done, now the new year has come, and oh look the dawn, the dew of light comes, a mother a father to some.

Into the dawn, the fourth has come, the resolutions of past night are fading. The beggar looks deep, the girl in the street, the past in retreat, some are singing. The paper cut heals, the trust that is real, the dew of the light is bathing. A new year in faces, a stronger belief, that each has a purpose, for what they receive, to live to potential, to move skyward on, a dew of the light, resurrection, a dew of the light, resurrection, a dew of the light, resurrection!

*”You as dead, you there, you will live, all my dead bodies shall rise up! Wake up, and sing and dance, you laying there so discouraged, laying in dust. You see your tears, those you forget to cry, or don’t know how to cry, those tears are as the dew of light in my eyes. And this earth my earth, all the earth, the earth everywhere, shall bring to life your shadows”.

– 01.04.2016 דָּנִיֵּאל
*Isaiah 26:19

The Unbelievable (Angel Vespers)


A million prayers I prayed to heaven, for myself upon bloody knees, in times of crisis when the skies turned dusk to red, falling sunset leaves. And in the time of lost battles when in self I turned to need, a million times the call of heaven returned no answer upon my pleas. A solo call I wrote in darkness, Dante’s smile scribed in my need, a tune, a soul, a shave of whisker, turn my cheek, a bit deceived. The unbelievable comes calling, the answer what I can’t receive, better now you pray for angels, your neighbor’s soul is now in grief. For there in times upon cold winters when your heart is warmed and fed. The cold eyes stare therein no fortune, vespers are for those in need, vespers are for those in need.

The unbelievable of asking, when the battle is your own, angel’s vespers are not lasting, turn the world, the selfish own. Compassion strikes the light in heartache, though it’s blind to what’s not owned, the pure of heart, of G-Ds own choosing, a million prayers answered from those unatoned. So now in silence stand I asking for those of others, for not my own, will you turn now, to all and answer, the unbelievable a world so cold. Will you turn now, to all and answer, the unbelievable a world so cold.

A million prayers spun unto heaven, upon Shabbat, for what’s not known, the unbelievable I’m asking, not for me, but those unknown. For this you turn in tides it’s given, angel’s vespers, they can’t believe, you turn an eye and it’s forgiven, the beggar’s heart for unbelief. A million prayers, I pray in the darkness, for myself on bloody knees, you give them back all unanswered, but for one, that’s not for me. The unbelievable is given, when it’s for this world in need, the angel’s vespers are written, when a prayer is for my neighbor in need. Bless you my holy righteous neighbor who is in need. – 12.19.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Still Here (Rolling Thunder)


Still here, wounded from the light, as I should be, like rolling thunder divided by the lightning, yes that too as it should be, for I am light, I want you as light, joined with my light oh my, light as we all should be. Still here, light in rolling thunder.  Still here!

Light of the world, a spirit to us, time takes us, its toll, beyond the shattered scroll, that place where in our troubles, our graves roll. Pictures I once knew, shadows of reflections are they true?  They must be true.  Time that bastard time, the light makes us live through. Words and notes of clue, upon this life before us, captured in its all, a photograph of pain, reflect it all. I can steer this ship no more, for I, am like a naked sailor, my back bloody red, from all the lashes, those heat filled lashes.  Oh there you are, your star, it moves, with the ease of a shadow, in this gloom, I know, a fable or a truth from my “Book of Shadows” glows inside, light of the world, I come to hide, it’s me. Make me now a glowing Torah, round and round, the feathers falling, oh it’s now, a destined howling, light, oh light of the world. My sweet light!

Light of the world, like thunder rolling, dear you whisper, is this a dream, please let it not be.  Yet here we are the tide is folding, everything happens for want it seems. Sunsets come before the dawn, still it sends, a light, to even darkness, a child, here, I’m crying oh, Adonai, please find, something of the light deep inside, so far inside of me. For every thought that ever mattered, every dream that ever shattered, light the prism in dark matter, let it shine, my wound, let it be light. For here we are the two of us, oh my G_D maybe it’s just me, light from darkness unto all it cry’s, shatter all that’s dusk, my all, light of the world.

Light of the world, for now it’s darkness, deep to deep, it’s now upon us, and it’s fine, I know, yeah even though it’s just me. Though this rolling thunder on me glows, ah yes, it’s natural that I fear on all I find, here now, for light is a darkness that shows us how, to find, a clear morning on the other side.  Would you with me step over this great divide? Oh my friend pull all that troubles, light yourself inside deaths troubles, light tonight for tomorrow waits, be still here you’ll find, your light of the world.

Still here, wounded from the light, as I should be, like rolling thunder divided by the lightning, yes that too as it should be, for I am light, I want you as light, joined with my light oh my, light as we all should be. Still here, light in rolling thunder. Still Here! – 11.22.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל


Judges & Companions


For there are companions, and they come in the valley of tears, they come with hands raised, and they will not be judged!

Judges never have danced under the moon, no sir, they never have danced under the moon.

Judges all around you everywhere you go, morphed into your spirit, they tell you where you should go. Everywhere since worlds began, there’s been hypocrisy, some little law based on criminality. Politics in places, spurn they the mystery, of all that is in your heart, know they not when you breathe. Did you know that scares them, when you look unto the moon, frightens them like Socrates, frightened that, which never blooms. Like those three men of old, Meletus, Anytus and Lycon, they could not see, those shiny companions that loved philosophy!!! Judges never have danced under the moon, no sir, they never have danced under the moon.

Companions walk beside you, never far from where you’ve come. Never leading onward, or following what you have yet become. Is it not a miracle, you have so much to give, look unto the right of you, angels, wink and follow your eyelid, as it see’s, carefully, your companion, touches you, and gives. Everything from all you are, paths of horror, trails of stars, life that goes from beginning unto the end, even in your sin, companions live, forever with you, never judging, always loving, who you are.

And you follow them in love, they follow you too, your deepest darkest secrets, become companions too, and someday soon they’ll bring you home, turn around, and you’ll no longer roam, for G_D will love you, and you’ll understand….

The companion is all you ever waited for, the deep dark mystery, that, your shadows for, it’s you, oh my friend, it’s always been you.

Judges and companions, the world has always been, those who change your raiment, and those who choose within. For I would not have judges be, ruling over me, for there is only one who my name always see’s. For I am not an angel bought to live by rule of men, I choose my companions by the G-D who lives within. For stars they light a pathway, to those, who choose for want, to be a companion, to never judge their want. I will not allow a judge to rule over me, for G-D is my companion, we choose what I will ever be, and then my will, it walks forever, by my side, a great companion, from the other side. A great companion from the other side.

Judges never have danced under the moon, no sir, they never have danced under the moon. – 11.18.2015 –  דָּנִיֵּאל (Daniyyel) meaning “G_d is my judge”!