[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Time, you re slow.
A musical ghost haunts that hill,
From fire to Lodge.
most can t hear it, and I doubt Jean will.
The phantom mourns love lost long ago
I built that lodge with them.
and sadly sings about the lying foe
who stabbed him over a women s false claim.
Things are progressing.
That woman and I now share our last name.
It s all right.
You re not a novice.
Two Welsh Triads
cool down, Mike.
by Michael Scharding 3/7/92
Checklists.
Three Things No One Knows:
what if....
Where your soul was before you were born.
They re done!
What you should do during the short break.
It s starting!
Where the greatest journey stops next time.
Straighten up!
Clear away thoughts.
Three Things I Won t Tell:
They look nervous.
What things lurk under my kilt and sporran.
I m nervous.
Whose wife I call my lover in the night.
She says were ready.
How much I had to bribe the judge when I did tell the second in
order to keep the first.
432 Right!
Clothes off! Clothes off! Stretch the legs out.
Damn laces!! Argh! Reach.
Allright, that s done. Close the talons.
Return to the circle. Ground so close.
Its legs churn.
Everybody is naked. Eyes trying to reach safety from me.
Every body is naked. It s body slowing down its eyes.
Arms Close the talons.
Legs Sink them.
Chests Weight is added.
Bellies... Genitals.. Scoop up the rabbit.
Wow. Its legs now useless.
We really are... Torso twitches and thrashes.
Different? Cannot escape.
No. Take it home.
Mostly alike... Flap.
Pay attention! Flap.
Hum, Mike! Chant! Flap.
Hummmm mmmmmm Kill it.
Aahahaha! Hooooooo! Food.
His hand, her hand. Time to leave.
We are a circle. Bye Owl.
Bye Owl-man.
The waves settle.
The mind softens.
Armor straps loosen.
Steel plates fall softly. Return to the Lodge
Family. Feathers to fingers.
They see me. Branches to dirt
Aohhhhhm. Heaves to a plastic tarp.
The sky churns slowly. I am back.
My breathing.. Voice strong.
slows.. Heyah! Yah Hah! Ho! Hey!
down. Lead them in mind.
A vision! Mind s strong legs dance about the lodge.
Body imitates by twitch.
A vision They also traveled.
Eagles and cranes Steam is lessening.
Soar. SOARING. Keening and cries soften.
Owl is there. Pull strength in.
Feathers out stiff and feeling the Channel to friends,
Currents of air.
A push here, an ebb there. People in torture far away,
I turn my head and look down.
Wind rushes over my eyeballs. People without hope.
Sharp vision scans the running countryside.
Galloping of veins in my head. We fold our weary wings.
Cross-current ruffles my feathers. Ready? Yeah.
I compensate. Grab a support Pole.
Pull the wings closer. One. Two. Three!
Drop. Lift!
Drop.
Drop. The black sky rises and falls away.
Extend. The sky churns above us.
Push from gravity s embrace. Heat goes, cold comes.
Tree tops. Steam spreads.
Many types. Cold rubs on us.
Thin twigs. Mist rises from bodies.
Strong arms. We laugh!
Flowing grass. Dance!
Moonlit prairie. Shout!
Flap. Hop about like Frogs!
Flap. Hug!
Flap. It worked! Oh Gods! It worked!
Pull the wings back.
433
The Camel The White Jewel
by Michael April 6th, 1992 by Michael Nov. 22, 1992
The Camel sails upon the desert Some mock my lovely jewel,
It knows the way will be long & dry. She is merely a moon.
The Camel sails upon the desert She can move seas... Can you?
And only its rider can know why. Her light is scorned by lamps,
I can turn them on or off!
The Falcon soars with its outstretched wings She leads women... Can you?
It feels the ebbs and puffs of the air. She always will return.
The Falcon soars with its out-stretched wings She is in fixed orbit.
On it s destination does it care? She s eternal... Are you?
The Salmon leaps o er the churning falls
Sine Ceolbhinn
Leaving the water it briefly flies.
by Michael April 8th, 1992
The Salmon leaps o er the churning falls
Se Sine Ceolbhinn a tha an anam oirre!
And reaching its birthplace, the fish dies.
Seinn i an amhrainn sean agus an amhrainn og!
The Prairie Fire
Tha thu mor clarsach beag agus mo caraid fhior!
by Michael April 6th, 1992 Tha mo gaol bog ort, an drasda gu siorraidh!
A boring biolab fieldtrip...
How much longer?
To Jean Sweetmusic
Smoke! Look, Smoke!
Jean Sweetmusic is the name that is upon she!
What type of fire is that?
She sings the ancient songs and those that crawl on knees!
Run to the cause.
Branches dodge me.
You are my little harp and my most loyal friend!
Emerge from the quiet woods.
My soft love is on you now till the final end!
Roaring frames before me
Rippling downwind.
A Poem to my Harp
One spark started it.
When we go to Eire what will it be like?
The spreading ring.
Will I explore on foot or ride on a bike?
Inside, all is burnt.
The area of Change is thin.
Will I unpack you on a wind torn strand
Outside, all fear it.
to play for dancing spirits of that land?
The Change is painful.
That-which-changes
Will the Quiet Ones come from hidden doors
can see but the pain.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]