Here & There (You Love Me)


“Maybe I’m amazed at the way you pulled me out of time. You hung me on the line. Maybe I’m amazed at the way I really need you.” – Paul McCartney

“Maybe I’m Amazed” ….

Paul McCartney was singing as I wrote your name on my hand, And I could feel the ink seeping into my soul like a flame, taking my heart to a place I could not understand. Still, it was clear to me that here and there you loved me, and here and there I would never leave you.

I am just wandering the cosmos, when we meet, a sad bogus boy, with a spark of destiny, that only someone different can help me reach. I am looking for you to be like me, while you are looking for me to be me. For you see I have been many places, through doorways and values of times. I have seen the beginning and the lie that ends all time. Still nothing in all of those places, has been like here and there and how you have loved me. No nothing has been like this very moment in this stillness and how you love me.

I whitewashed the shadows, the link to the divine. I hid beneath memories that reached to the sky. I said I was a secret, that really was a lie. Still here and there you loved me. I drove to Albuquerque with a search a hope to find. Seven cities of Cibola of a mystic kind. I dug so many tunnels, I forgot which one was a mine. Your feet in my shoes while I am drunk in summertime. Still here and there you loved me. For G_D gives to me a mystery, a path that follows my own. A pleasure, a pain, a universe I cannot define. A placeholder you call our home. It carries an air of some kindness, sometimes a hatred so deep. Still, what I would see as challenge, is still something I would complete. With you here and there, still I love you. Still here and there you love me.

I was a whole lot more than he was, you were a bit more than her. Time was turning, spinning more than sand. The end of an age was coming. My age, my time. And when the night was silent, the ghost no longer in my head, I looked at you sleeping, touched your neck, with my wet lips. And it was okay. For while outside lightning split the sky and made glass in the sand. Bad angels fell from my sky, things I saw went away. Naked monsters no longer entwined. Here and there I loved you. Here and there you loved me.

Paul McCartney was singing as I wrote your name on my hand, And I could feel the ink seeping into my soul like a flame, taking my heart to a place I could not understand. Still, it was clear to me that here and there you loved me, and here and there I would never leave you…..

For Susan– 06.14.21 – דָּנִיֵּאל‎ 

The Spirits of Bisti (Patiently)


“The future for me is already a thing of the past –
You were my first love and you will be my last” – Bob Dylan

So long ago, first man, first woman, first love a song sung so patiently. Stars and angels, ruins beneath the eggs of Bisti, let what we do be born patiently. My love, my love I will love you eternally. My love, my love, I will see you again in Bisti eventually,

She, moves and summons so patiently, in threes, sixes and nines, the Bisti moving she on bended knee. Moving these images throughout these dreams. Swaying in song so delicately, her whispers dialectically. While Steve Perry wails, she kisses me, under rocks above me, oh another world that beckons me. Ruins that spin, while she touches me, here to live eternally. Sand pouring methodically, the notes of stars above fall melodically. The universe outside my car, our score that no one see’s. Just the spirits of Bisti so patiently, in you and me, moving, eyes closed, incessantly. We burst, worlds move, so patiently, light shines incandescently. Inside and outside of me, only this once. I succumb patiently.

Night winds fly higher than we can see, desert moon in November touches the ground in prophesy. Your hips bare the secrets inside of me, together, first woman, and first man, mythically almost tragically. Still there is a song forever, I keep gloriously. Later I learned you died, on a highway knowing what you did not see. No doubt your eyes closed, just like in Bisti, so patiently. November 29th so early. The morning star falling on a frozen desert sea. To your grave, in my head you kept me, so no one could see, the trail we blazed patiently. The spirits of Bisti, a covenant in immortality, tall columns of rock of relevancy, that watched so quietly, while we shared so patiently. So patiently.

Spirit I summon thee, so patiently, just like then move with me, let doors open like her with me. First man, first woman, let guardians shelter us in this moving desert sea, while we move too. Her to me. Me to what I cannot see, above these ruins, where shadows recede. Let what we did bring immortality. Let our love be patiently.

So long ago, first man, first woman, first love a song sung so patiently. Stars and angels, ruins beneath the eggs of Bisti, let what we do be born patiently. My love, my love I will love you eternally. My love, my love, I will see you again in Bisti eventually. – דָּנִיֵּאל – 11.29.20

Valiant


“You cannot give me my soul and take away my heart” – Prince Valiant

Upon this terrible eve of difference, that between the dragon and me.  His, the daemons troops so terrible, that which brings the fear I see.  So it is, in that great battle, that which quakes inside of  me. Move I unto my great lady in this darkness comfort me.  In this darkness comfort me.

Oh, hallowed place oft with no sun, to drench the soil of goodness done. Why here I pray, and ask someone in shadows come and cloak thy son. Bring grace in step and purpose some, make inside stronger than outsides sum. Know thee to me, my ladylove, one life, one soul, I will not run. For battle rages, I know it true, it rises when the sunrise is through, and I will not have glory then, for all blood spilt, is mortal sin. In truth right now, when darkness comes, a slight chill uttered on thy light tongue. Kiss it to me, and I to you, become we one in ghost and shadow too. Lay here with me, and know not my tears, take now my thoughts for the coming years. For here so cold on nighttime’s shore, we know each other in skin and more, and share a shimmer of what might be if on the morrow I cease to be.

Light here no candles as if I am staid, a token monument while breath is weighed. Still laugh with me and breathe in true and call the muses to sing us through. One life, one soul that parts nowhere, even on that morrow when blood flows everywhere. So the question asked between us two, are we finite now, in what we do? Tonight, tomorrow when the battle is through. To know this eve of that to come, will be enough when sleep is done.

Oh, sprite, thy torments everywhere, thy flurries dark and teeth still bared, to rent my grasp from what I do. To sow the doubt within my love so true. To split my will as if it is none, to change the mystery of what must be done. To show this place where we now lay, to describe its hollowness as my shallow grave. My sword to me, my strength renewed, the stars above fall, and show me to you. For in my heart, laid deep to test, one life, one soul, will pay to rest.  One life, one soul will pay to rest.

Oh, hallowed place oft with no sun, to drench the soil of goodness done. Lay down thy time, look not ahead, for what is future could already be stead. In this black place which knows no sun, bring light to me, thy will be done. Know thee to me, my ladylove, one life, one soul, I will not run.

Upon this terrible eve of difference, that between the dragon and me.  His, the daemons troops so terrible, that which brings the fear I see.  So it is, in that great battle, that which quakes inside of  me. Move I unto my great lady in this darkness comfort me.  In this darkness comfort me.

For Queen Aleta and my wife, both who have put up with much the night before a battle. – 10.26.20 – דָּנִיֵּאל

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

 

First Christmas


“Expectancy is the atmosphere for miracles”. – Edwin Louis Cole

I cannot shake the feeling of familiarity, even though each time you come around I feel new. A loving heart filled with specific clarity, of the special kind of person that I have in you. I would strike a deal of my eternal security; run the judgment gantlet a time or two. If G_D in all her wisdom and her mercy, would let me walk through a winter snow with you. The lore of love is all around us, between life’s mountains what a view. The universe in snow in Colorado, the quaking Aspen below a sky that is blue. The mighty storm of life that has blown at us. The change that comes, the change that must. The first Christmas I really see you, the first we bind to make it just.

There are many who would say that it was unspoken, signs between spirits not above. A deal made by a minion who knew better? A course of instigation of not what was. For all the times we thought we were not special, for all the dread our twosome stumbled through. In all of this pain and degradation, we were hibernating, waiting in a winter wonderland to become new. In a prayer, that we have no words for, in a language uttered from the stars above. Who’s to know but us what we are given, ties that bind that make us thus. The mighty storm of life that has blown at us. The change that comes the change that must. The first Christmas I really see you, the first we bind to make it just.

For we have not died alone, but together, while moving parts have changed above. The snow around us is a carol, sung immortal in our love. We alone have sampled heartache, as such in life our deeds have some. For how we remained as faire together, for how our destiny was done. One hand raised unto the heavens, the other tied within our love. Now we see the door opened, not a shadow do we bare, and what was once is now forgiven. As ghost and angels, hold our future in such a cold thin air. Within us both strikes a hallow, a white warmth from light’s guiding lair. We rise as one together, no need for ties that bind. The mighty storm of life that has blown at us. The change that comes the change that must. The first Christmas I really see you, the first we bind to make it just. – 12.20.2019 – דָּנִיֵּאל

For Susan.

 

Zuzan (Banrigh nan Witches)


“I myself have seen this woman draw the stars from the sky; she diverts the course of a fast-flowing river with her incantations; her voice makes the earth gape, it lures the spirits from the tombs, send the bones tumbling from the dying pyre. At her behest, the sad clouds scatter; at her behest, snow falls from a summer’s sky.” – Tibullus

In the act of prelude…

They burn her in the evening near the loch, an inward sea, hairless pilgrims from the Romans, who cannot abide what they cannot see. For they know not love of difference, nor the signs of transformation, so they burn her near the sunset, to set their superstitions free. Maple red it lights the skyway, like her skin in faire degrees, with the screams of a thousand angels as above and below deceived. For she is the heir of hierarchy, the share of all unseen. The voices of her sirens cry come forth thou, my craft it is aggrieved.

First act of the evening…

First I saw her in Lucy’s garden on a snowy Solstice Eve, with the air filled full of wonder, lights around her face and feet. She made me think of some wickedness the kind that is so grand, where you watch the pleasure of a lady, delivered by a softened hand. It seemed she did not notice me, where I was or what I am and it led me to a reason, that I was dreaming or a familiar, from an ancient tribe or clan. In the garden there were statues both alive and some were dead, and not alone some were speaking, and from those her mind seemed fed. And, she laughed in grand gaiety, and smiled her lips so bloody red, and she brought forth life from a cold stone woman, with a kiss upon her hand. Above the snow had stopped falling and shown bright north stars in those snowflakes stead. Not a sound from this garden except the laughter from her mouth, forming spells in passion noises, eagerness building all about.

I saw her look back shyly, her hand it waved my way, the brown ringlets from her brown hair fine, glistened as she swayed. Come with me sweet surveyor within my mind a voice. She led me to a crypt nearby from in it came a noise. She bent the handle without effort and with her hand, she waved, back through time, we entered through a doorway once her grave. The night sky seemed to follow, well before the dawn, down through magic passageways, from whence ghost travel from whence they come. Her body moved so lightly, as so as if to say, nothing has ever owned me, not ever without my say. For with this in mind I traveled from a present course, and arrived back in time so ancient she led me without force.

I came upon an altar in a sudden winters gloom, with ashes it still smoldered by a loch under a winters moon. The queen of all the witches turned to tell me of the ruins. Of all my crazed filled travels in dreams of rare displays. No nothing not of something had ever taken me this way. For it was her in this travel, that I learned of simple things, how the body burned for living, can never be decayed. In the simple act of hatred, in one act of just one play. The building of the sovereign spirit by craft can find its own way. For her story is the cosmos, her travel by air woven sleighs, and she has made her world in forest cathedrals, and there her book of shadows stays.

First, I saw her in Lucy’s garden on a snowy Solstice Eve.

For my Whitby Lady my very own, she who I followed through a garden – 12.23.2018 – דָנִיֵּאל

The Weight


Martina Mcateer – The Dear Weight of Love

“See your star how it shines.”

“Cause the weight on my shoulders ain’t no weight at all” – Gino Vannelli

You have always been there, weight against my weight, head upon my shoulder, purpose within me. And should you know me, know me at all, you should know I never thought our love any weight at all.

Not a lifeless purpose, not a burden to know, not a hidden meaning, rather now this here, this truth, this heft in me. This weight of something, I chose to take, not much of nothing, but everything.

The weight strikes me in chasms, the strength of it surprising, different from age, more savage than emotion, supernatural in a way. The weight is stronger than battle, blood flowing in the lazy river of the Stones, brother striking brother. That weight intense indeed. A wounded weight perhaps, still asked for, still asked for. Stronger am I, that I think until this weight, this force, wind and life flowing all around it, that which comes. Something wicked from childhood this way with wind does it come. Intricate, passionate with cold eyes does it come, still this weight is no weight at all.

When we were young, we asked for more, I swore that I would take what came through that door, that endless, endless find. It was a hand that took to hold, with weights of tears, and hidden tolls. A weight I said to no one there, for you were love, that greater share. For when its now, like yesterday, and questions are asked, can this me take. Still the weight, I wish to pull, that better half, that pulls and pulls. Upon this queen, this one I know, I know the energy my half of soul. Still morning star, that swims the sky, I lift the weight, I cannot break. Not I a hero, nor muscle man, I feel your heart within my hands. Oh, weight upon me, that touches life, you are the water, now behold I the tide. A thing we talk about with hidden words, in mirrored secrets, takes flight with birds. This weight of something, I chose to take, not much of nothing, but everything.

She’s a weight of secrets, a reign of time, a purpose spell, those dreams I seek, when there is no weight at all, for that I believe. For when prophets talk, and poets cry, they will tell our story, and they will say of my love for you, that it was never a weight at all.

[For my Susan whom is no weight at all.] – 10.30.2018 – דָנִיֵּאל

Angel Peak (Long Time 1977)

She whispers, not breathing, at least not so that I can see, she bathes there in the cover of red rocks just like when she was fifteen. She’s at the two o’clock marker in the shadow of the Angel peak, I’m sixteen or fifty-five now, not no more than yesterday’s dream. The sandstone, looks past petrified mummies, the badlands of the San Juan basin to the back of a wet brown hued lady. “It was “such a long time”, she sings, the pool of clay seems clear at her feet, just sparkling minerals, dropping diamonds of sun beneath her wings.

The world has stopped, moving, and the sun would still it’s shine. The triune strata of the Kirtland Shale, The San Jose Formation, and Nacimiento Formation, bending to catch the sound of her voice singing Boston to me.

“Funny there would be music here”, I think I say, and then I wish there was stars, for maybe under the seven stars, this would all be a different dream, not real, not her making me dare, to be what maybe I can’t perceive.

Her fingers like the canyon, they bend and keep moving, bringing, the raw colors of the world to me. “You’re coming back to find me”, her voice, teasing, the sage carpet of the ancient ocean bending to see what I see.

She whispers, not breathing, at least not so that I can see, “it’s just outside of your front door”, and the angels come down from the peak, and they play with her. And just like the mystery of the song in the Kutz Canyon, she continues to sing to me. “I’ve got to keep on chasing that dream, though I may never find it, I’m always just behind it”. And the angel’s just fifteen, but she’s older than the peak, for it seems the vaults of canyons seem to echo, what she repeats, for a long time, all my life for a long time.

She whispers, not breathing, at least not so that I can see…10.7.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל 

  • All rights to lyrics “Long Time” – Tom Schotz (Boston)

Virginia Dale (Soaked)

She stood at forty-nine, just a sprite on the ninth of May. Well she stood like a banshee a bride denied, before the moths flew about colder still near the Wyoming blue, on the Colorado side. Just a ghost watching cars go by. My Missus looks over, says” it seems a little colder”, meanwhile Bruno Mar’s sings about his oh so selfish ways. I look and see the church at the Dale, the witch she pleads stay with me. I’d like to tell you as you read, I’d like to paint a picture of what I see. For the ancients from the highlands on the other side, those silent that only speak after they have died. Say they come and know the spirit as their soaked, as their soaked.

We drove on for a minute or two, I turn to her, “did you see her too”? She looks away and cry’s, the tears are so hard to find, for there at Virginia Dale, lightning falls, and tears the vale, of rocks and wind and trees. The spirits ascend and so do we. And driving on to the Forks, 287, turns from the North, and all of a sudden we look and we see the far end of heaven the host of banshee’s, crying out, you will never leave, and I know. I’m soaked to the bone, I’m left in a flood, of the ghost I see. For there in Virginia Dale, in the bow of the highlands, where heaven does dwell. For some say heaven’s gate, most would say have you had more enough then you can take. I look to the Missus and say, can we forsake. Life and all its monetary dreams. Can we stay here where Cantor’s can’t sing, and no religion dwells. Especially that church we saw in the Dale. And hallows will ring, and through the thin air we will fly and be soaked.

She stood at forty-nine, a siren, rhyming, where mountains do climb, and just by Virginia Dale, she soaked my soul, and she left my mind to dwell. I look to the Missus and see, she’s lost in a dream, and what hurts, is I can’t tell her I see, it all too well. Were lost and Soaked in the dark rim of rock that surrounds Virginia Dale. Eternity left with stories to tell, eternity left with stories to tell. (Soaked).

MF …lost his wife in a car accident outside the Virginia Dale, Colorado Church on Highway 287, Friday, May 9, 2014. It was raining. He died from complications from the physical injuries he sustained from the automobile accident one week later. He claimed he saw and heard his missus, as he passed before his Rabbi’s eyes, and his final word was soaked. – 07.10.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

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