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

 

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

Bro/ken (Hold My Heart)


When you break, when you wonder, in your soul, how to hold your heart, how to keep it from being two, not one you see, but two.

Oh my creator, my symphony of broken joy, you writing rune like syllables in this little boy, yep supernatural as the sun goes lights out, dark, so weird in this little boy, I imagine it’s been this way a time or two for all of you. It seems you would hold my heart until the conciliators wouldn’t talk, nobody listens, it seems you would hold my heart, and damn it, damn it I don’t understand, you would let it go too soon. Seems the sun wants to set too ruin, seems a broken heart wants to have sex with the new moon, that place where shadows whisper too soon. And yet you would say to me, go on be empty but make sure your swept free. To many houses inhabited, where daemons have room. For something wilds going to come along, a dangerous topics going to turn into a song, and when, oh when you turn around, something magic’s going to turn without a sound, and G-Ds going to hold your heart, some awesome lights going to hold your heart soon.

And yes, you’re going to hear it, syllables without a sound, your own heart of joy breaking, face it, it’s high noon, G-Ds listening, and somebodies going to hold your heart, and it will happen too soon, the question is what do you do?

Bring me shadows, call down me flames, let me go to lonely, someplace where all there is, human as it is, great deserts of room. And let me break, it seems the natural thing to do, for deep unto deep it calls, letting me being hurt, and I will watch my heart break itself in two. Oh my creator, my symphony of broken joy, are you listening, you said you would hold me, than hold my heart, will you keep it after dark, from breaking in two?  Please let me stay one, don’t want to break to two.

And yes, you’re going to hear it, syllables without a sound, your own heart of joy breaking, face it, it’s high noon, G-Ds listening, and somebodies going to hold your heart, and it will happen too soon, the question is what do you do?

When you break, when you wonder, in your soul, how to hold your heart, how to keep it from being two, not one you see, but two. – 03.01.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל


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

Fleetwood Mac and the Cloudless Flight (1980)


Dazed, so into you, sway, where ever you go, your skin smells like a Camel smoke, and the desert wind at night. September, Nicks, Fleetwood and the lights. Smoking a fatty, her jeans so tight, and looking at Maryann all night. I’ll pick you up, a “sweet wonderful you”, you loop your purse strap around me tight, and baby, baby you whisper, you’re going to fuck me on this cloudless flight. A shirt unbuttoned, rumors, your sighs, you’re dazzling thighs, and that dark, dark hair that follows the magic, where this boy wonders why. For what follows, a miracle of sight, the ways of Fleetwood Mac, and Maryann with a boy you have never denied, you have never denied.

You in your Masters, you’re English of degrees, your Wordsworth, and eighteenth century poets, me fading, a sophomore, who no longer achieves. I know you’re the wild one, I’m so quiet, and yet you say, “I don’t have to tell you, but you’re the only one”. And tonight when the Pan Am goes quiet, and Lindsey and Stevie are getting high, you and I will walk into the desert, and make love while time fly’s. The echo of “Over and Over“, the death of the light, and my Maryann, will chant Mabinogi, and like that Welsh witch Rhiannon, take me on a cloudless flight.

Is it now a question, a memory of all I could do, a nineteen year old boy, with Maryann on a concert night.

So we danced, danced, stage side, and my “Dreams” followed your hands, till they reached my side, and then you whispered “your feelings follow me wherever I go”. And then we were running, like sprites through firelight, through those east side doors into the taste filled night. Into the desert, where water dies, out by the Organ’s, where coyotes cry, and there by the ghost shack, where Pat Garett died, we made love, and believed in the ways of magic, the magic of the night. And though the years they be many, with loves and failures too, I still remember the concert, and afterwards the cloudless flight. – 08.20.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Sixteen on a Greyhound


When life takes you at sixteen on a greyhound, and turns you upon a dare, when there’s music, that forms you on a word, ignorant of your own bloom. It could be an implosion, or maybe your just scared, maybe you’re thinking, a chance you’ll be misunderstood. It could be electricity, that creativity that happens from your nerves. And you sit there in your blue jeans, afraid to breathe a word, wondering if she will do all to you, all that you have heard. A life upon your lifetime, a boy who thinks in verbs, coming from your feelings, and visualizing words. And then the nighttime folds, closes on the world, her falling body next to you, the feel of all her curves. A softness left unspoken, while outside darkness reigns, her chocolate curls unto you, a fire that you can’t hide. A fire all your life!

At sixteen on a greyhound, the lights of Phoenix smile, and unto you is given, a love you can’t deny. And though you think of colors, of pink, and dark brown eyes, and lips like Red Delicious, the apple you can’t bite, she reaches just to hold you to breathe and compromise, a boy of all resistance, electricity forms your mind. It’s not really a falling, that cannot describe a gift, of innocence worth giving, when you reach to kiss. At sixteen on a greyhound, a blessing all your life, a fire that you can’t hide. A fire all your life.

At sixteen on a greyhound, the door throughout your life, its more than a beginning, that ride throughout the night. And all throughout the desert, while ghost watch you from outside, and taunt you with your feelings, as to why your tears won’t dry. They stare of all a sudden, when Flagstaff comes in sight, they watch their mouths wide open, as a gentle hand comes aside. She reaches with such wisdom, she reaches up to dry, the shyness of her closeness, of her love that night. Her head is soon to follow, her hair it smells like light, her nose into your shoulder, and on and on you ride. At sixteen on a greyhound, a lesson finally understood, love is more than challenge, its feelings understood. A softness left unspoken, while outside darkness reigns, her chocolate curls unto you, a fire that you can’t hide. A fire all your life! – 08.16.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל


The Concert (Maryann)

There was a time, when deserts rose, beyond the Organ’s those mountains those, and when I came there, to watch Brad sing, you were the surprise there, you were the spring. An early summer, in 78, when all of seventeen thought it was king. Oh my, sweet Maryann, that night it brings, I to my betters, when Boston sing’s, when Boston sings.

Johnny will you take us, Joe and I, take us southward down I-25? There in your blue pickup, there as stars go by, I will meet Maryann as Boston spans the sky. If I see those fields of chilies, there in Hatch in spring, they go by in April, like her eyes waiting for what fall brings. Overture of lightning young boys from a small town north, headed to the southern desert.  Adventure upon a university shore. Indeed it is a first concert, thereby the first rites of spring. Sammy Hagar will open, by toke or by Cabo that red rocker will scream. What it is in an answer there on a campus nighttime lawn, a blue jeaned raven, can you keep your pants still on. Oh it seems to me, time it still brings, memories of Maryann, dropping her eyes in spring. While Joe is getting hickeys, and Johnny’s eating wings, my back’s against Alumni, telling a dreamer, dreams.

There was a time, when deserts rose, beyond the Organ’s those mountains those, and when I came there, to watch Brad sing, you were the surprise there, you were the spring. An early summer, in 78, when all of seventeen thought it was king. Oh my, sweet Maryann, that night it brings, I to my betters, when Boston sing’s, when Boston sings.

Four rows from the stage, “Jane” rears her smoky head, towers of amplifiers scream. Sammy moves in red, whiskey bottle, the entire stage grooves. Up into our chairs, blue jean hips, Maryann turning ruby red lips. What a night in spring, Overton window, I might should take this chance it seems. The song it starts to play, lights in concert, stray, and Maryann kisses me, Boston in a medley, “More than a Feeling”, my Maryann slips away, but in memory she stays, in memory she stays.

There was a time, when deserts rose, beyond the Organ’s those mountains those, and when I came there, to watch Brad sing, you were the surprise there, you were the spring. An early summer, in 78, when all of seventeen thought it was king. Oh my, sweet Maryann, that night it brings, I to my betters, when Boston sing’s, when Boston sings.

My first rock concert, I traveled with Johnnie little and Joe Kelting to Las Cruces, New Mexico in April of 1978. At the Pan Am Center at NMSU, we saw Sammy Hagar, and Boston. I had met Maryann the night before on campus. She twenty-one, me seventeen, starry-eyed and shy, afraid to look her in the eye. She talked to me, sharing her dreams, and the night of the concert when Boston sang “More Than a Feeling”, she turned toward me and kissed me.6.30.2015 – 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