Beside Cold Water

DogBoy / TinSoldier Publishing & The Malo Family Trust

Copyright 2018, 2010, 1999, 1978, 1972

All Rights Reserved Including Public Performance For Profit

For Mary Jo

RETURN to DogBoy / TinSoldier Publishing

Table Of Contents

Out Of Eden

Beginning Again

Beside Cold Water

Dancing Water, Singing Flames

Something Wonderful

Dreamings

To Last Connect

An Olive Branch In Alba Bare

To Love Again

The Loving Space

In This Turning Lovers' Art

The Company

Shadows

Taken By Love Unawares

The Witching Hour

Night-Handed Grope

Near Miss

I Hold No One To The Babblings Of Men

Beware The Eyes With A Jealous Taint

The Highest Word

Cup Of Kindness

The Drowning

That Little Mouse

The Bottom Of The Ocean

Journal: Hard Rhymes, Hard Times, Wedding Chymes

The Charm

Whiter Than White

Dream Catcher

Out Of Eden

I have been up on the mountain

where the air is clear and thin

I even found the hidden fountain

where the waters all begin

But you didn’t know me then

so you couldn’t say my name

I just stood there in the wind

and you were blinded by your shame

I have been down in the desert

where no living thing can go

and poured out a bloody river

so the truth could finally grow

But you didn’t know me then

so you couldn’t cry my name

I just stood there in the water

while you were drowning in your shame

I have walked each highway here

toward your cities’ distant glow

watched every light disappear

when the sun began to show

But you didn’t know me then

so you couldn’t call my name

as I headed for the sunrise

from the midnight of your shame

I have been there in the battle

the only soldier left to fight

There were no sabers left to rattle

I walked alone out of that night

But you didn’t know me then

so you couldn’t speak my name

As I stood there drenched in blood

you just turned away in shame

I have been away from home

as you were swallowed by the sea

and they carried off your children

to a land where nothing ’s free

But you didn’t know me then

You never called me by my name

For my many colored coat

You tried to cast me into shame

And now the blood pounds through my veins

like a river on the plains

and the forgotten children rise

right before my very eyes

and you don’t know me even now

Beginning Again

what do I know of Wales?

enough to be me again

of blood in veins

and words in chains

unwinding in the dirt

I know, and more

what do I know of earth?

a lot more than teeming dirt

of ideas in rhyme

wound down through time

back through bone and dust

I know, and more

what do I know of men?

a lot more than dust to dust

of undead “mes”

on primal knees

the look in the eyes

I know, and more

what do I know of eyes?

a lot more than wasted tears

of beginning again

from the outside in

of finding the whole

I know, and more

Beside Cold Water

If across great seas I’d landed hard

beyond the cruciform of crown,

and heaven bent and crooked starred;

to find some peace and lay me down.

If hacked and savaged on the way,

where wild forest peoples chase,

dying, birthing every day,

beside cold water was a place.

It was only love that drove me,

away from war and death.

It was only words that failed me

by the river, out of breath.

If I built a troubled town

of mud and stones and bone and blood,

and shared what secret I had found

with people neither bad nor good.

If I forged blue beads of sand and fire

beside cold water on my knees,

and lay my robes down in desire

while children giggled in the trees.

It was only love that led me.

It was love that drew us near.

I couldn’t know that loving me

would make us disappear.

If I planted people sweet and fair

and forged in them my heart and hue;

we will find us waiting there

beside cold water, beads of blue.

Dancing Water, Singing Flames

I was born in a fire

and I burst into flames

in my footsteps were deserts

in my eyes burning plains

no holocaust could save me

I burned without shame

I could not be consumed

I saw a red woman

out where it never rains

around her was a forest

that stood against the flames

she was standing in a garden

pouring blood from her veins

she could not be consumed

I knelt at her fountain

and drank from her veins

I wrapped my arms around her

and buried her in flames

we became a burning river

sweet red water, hot blue flames

we could not be consumed

we became a burning river

dancing water, singing flames

Something Wonderful

If I told you something wonderful,

could you hear a single word I said;

or would my speaking seem like silence

between the words inside your head?

If I told you something wonderful,

could you ever understand;

or would my language pass unnoticed,

a subtle brushing of my hand?

If I told you something wonderful,

could you soar upon that air;

or would it pass right through you,

like my breathing through your hair?

If I told you something wonderful,

could that sunlight touch your skin;

or would you find that silent darkness,

and wait to hear it all again?

If I told you something wonderful,

could your fountain ever flow;

or would you come in from the rain,

afraid to even know?

If I told you something wonderful,

could your lips be kissed;

could we name the meaning

that the world so sorely missed?

Dreamings

I once laid down my dreamings at your feet

above this valley where our sorrows meet

And from that peak, transfixed, we plunged alone

To bleeding flesh, and broken bone

I took my charms and put them in a bag

To keep them safe, I wrapped them in a rag

And in this darkness no one saw my hand

Reach through the veil and drop them in this land

My Mother knew me, but she never said

My Father left me, gave me up for dead

And all my words, just melted into tears

Trickling down the faces of our fears

Along the journey to another night

The shadows opened into morning’s light

I cast my soul to match your body’s breath

And when I wake, your life will be my death

So lay me down like dreamings in your bed

And tell my sorrow loud inside your head

For from that peak I plunged into this place

And no one here, could recognize my face

Beyond the sword’s edge gleaming in the fire

The flickering children dancing with desire

Their robes undone, their hearts alive and free

I saw you smile, and lay down next to me

To Last Connect

Sometimes our wondrous human form

speaks a language soft and warm,

and truth is laid on in our hands

caressing us to understand.

And when we feel the rousing sigh

and meaning rises to our eye;

we say our hoping skin to skin

and find the way we will begin.

With the beating of our heart

our body speaks a way to start,

and the yearning we protect

will find a way to last connect.

And when we lay in blissful rest

sometimes we speak ourselves the best,

and everything we feel inside

is truth of us, that never lied.

An Olive Branch In Alba Bare

once I lived in my mother’s ocean

swayed to her rhythm drinking her potion

then torn like a sore from between her legs

I came to his place and its airy dregs

she lifted me quickly to suckle her breast

I was yet too tiny to be hard pressed

soon enough the nipple would be refused me

when I grew teeth she would let him abuse me

always it seems it’s a mother’s hard choice

as cooing gives way to an alien voice

and words in her mouth become formed in his fear

with meanings and madness I just wouldn’t hear

walking on an autumn day

I found a seed along the way

I didn’t know what it would be

I sowed it just to wait and see

beside a bay in earthen tomb

‘cross from Avalon’s empty room

in time it sprang with blossom fair

an olive branch in Alba bare

now we float inside a sea

then suckling on eternity

and from what womb we enter in

we find that we’ve been born again

To Love Again

Once there were no temple pillars

spired domes or parapets

Once there were no gothic arches

frescoed walls or leaded glass

Oak and ash and alder bowers

walled our sky-roof moon and starlit

as we danced the dew soaked carpets

of the heather and the grass

Once there was no savage chanting

echoing through stone cold rooms

no priest’s or teacher’s perverse mumblings

rasping through some marble tomb

Once we ran ‘til we were panting

after steps of bride and groom

and found them strewn in human tumblings

womb to mouth and mouth to womb

Once the forest framed our being

pictured in our moon glazed skin

and we fell to loving just like seeing

and always grew to love again

The Loving Space

that old door

only touched by those two dear beings

in all these centuries

is still hinged

still shut

beneath the same hill

at the end of the same road

neither touched again

nor found since

the knight and the lady

true believers

passed through

into what they believed

into how they loved

into their single dream

two stars, one light

forever touching

forever found

in a twice lit single dawn

there is always a road

always a hill, always a door beneath

in an early morning passage

two like the song of the first birds

may drift through into one melody

to inhabit the named place

the never ending embrace

the loving space

In This Turning Lovers’ Art

Hand in hand in hand to start,

we find and name our changing place,

while our threefold surging heart

pulses wisdom through our space.

Beneath our triple starlit gaze

our cosmos lays both wild and free;

set spinning by our lovers’ play,

where touching brought it all to be.

Each in turn takes wisdom’s part -

to hold each two, and know as one.

And in this turning lovers’ art -

what was not thought is soon begun.

The Company

on one-eleven double-aught

we see what is and what is not

and as the hand becomes the hand

in the touching understand

in the company’s embrace

find your living and your place

in the flow that you combine

let the being intertwine

underneath the naming star

find your meaning from afar

let your yearning be fulfilled

where the truthful seed is spilled

with a healing moon adorn

all your pathways every morn

and cover you in every night

with that reflection of your light

Shadows

In the glade of triple presence, we once danced with rhythmic essence

and soon we fell into a trance, and lost our freedom to that dance

Then the three with making vision, showed some ways for our provision

So hope sprang up from calloused fingers, and an industry that lingers

and brought a system of reward, believing comfort could be stored

But what arose could only mirror, that first failure, that first tear

Wisdom dances steps so light, through the presence of what’s right

If dancers hold a bit too dearly, there is no way they can see clearly

Proven truth is still the treasure, freedom pays for in full measure

In every skin that’s made for me, no matter how or what I see

There is so much that is untrue, and so much fear to look back through

When first I made myself unfold, it was for wisdom yet untold

If some have cast my face in pain, and poured out sorrow like the rain

I cannot walk the path of death, to struggle hard for every breath

I look at what I made as me, and know that I am really free

It’s right to lay a burden down, the truth is light when it is found

Beyond the first you in plain sight, they dance with such fantastic light

Heavy things aren’t hard to bear, light things take a lot more care

I saw a man breathe in and out, three times I heard a distant shout

I saw myself both near and far, at first the moon, and then a star

I washed up on my sand one night, then out to sea beyond its sight

I moved and I went out of me, I moved and washed back into me

Every distance makes a mark, between me in my inner dark

What I am comes back to me, from places where I soon will be

In the whisper of my being, everything is in my seeing

In the movement of decision, lies the future and the vision

What goes out comes back in me, and changes what I thought I’d be

Every sinew stretching tight, arching toward the piercing light

Stricken in the dance we share, crackling fingers, singing hair

Lightening splits the little death, before the thunder of our breath

Whirling in our countless forms, howling out in drunken storms

A single tear’s a driven rain, a single kiss, a boundless gain

Where the valley touches plow, gardens freshen green and now

In the quietness of being, three awoke me into seeing

Everything I am that’s now, I show myself to see just how

Now to face the darkening sky, with a bright agreeing eye

Taken By Love Unawares

blood split eye, river worn stone, cut rock wall

ash, mud, and frost

water broke hot, bottle dry sweat, warm lip scar

scald, freeze, and crush

tears carve face, sinews brace

taken hard, taken down

taken by love unawares

flame turned hard, iron child step, barb steel rose

dust, thorn, and wind

bruise bent dance, belly hell cry, star touch stride

starve, lose, and burn

blade slit heart, essence part

taken lost, taken torn

taken by love unawares

eye drink pulse, hand field stroke, breast smooth earth

milk, meat, and bread

tongue wet life, nose sweet dew, breath word sigh

taste, smell, touch, see, hear

plant new world, sow new sun

taken in, taken all

taken by love unawares

The Witching Hour

all men long for the witching hour

aching for that feminine power

praying to be transfixed

by the miraculous love of their life

we believe that the spell well cast

is the one that is meant to last

and we call it falling in love

and take the witch to wife

we succumb to the witching power

and get lost in the bridal hour

because we believe in our dreams

and not in witches after all

I believe there are witches around

and their spells in our dreams abound

but I made a choice once for freedom

that had nothing to do with my dreams

Night-Handed Grope

snow dusted stars

born on wind wasted waves

watered conclaves

thrust with canticle fire

soiless flesh

locked in night-handed grope

in the woman, in the land

speaks the shudder of the man

in the slurry of the thaw

the children stir with awe

in the mist we all recline

in the wetness of design

in the motion of the trance

let go the answer in the dance

in the desert, in the bed

we disappear inside our head

and only drown the burning brand

in a dead imagined land

snow dusted stars

born on wind wasted waves

watered conclaves

thrust with canticle fire

soiless flesh

locked in night-handed grope

Near Miss

we live in a rhythm of whispered bliss

alive with the pulse of a passionate kiss

but for all of this dancing it’s just a near miss

beyond all the stars and what we can see

we live all alone where we’ll never be free

and here in our words we touch just to be

no one can face the love that we need

beyond being children condemned to bleed

our grown up dead bodies just scatter their seed

where goes the child when the child moves on

where goes the parent when the child moves on

where are the grown ups - gone gone gone

why the woman of the dried up womb

why the man crawling off to his doom

why grow up just to find a tomb

where is the foothold for the step on good ground

where are the adults yet to fall down

where is the word with the undying sound

I love you, I love you, I love you, is true

but only for grown ups who live their way through

without it there’s nothing a child can do

who played this trick and left the script blurred

who thought that death would need to be heard

selfish scared children, and a mean jealous word

I Hold No One To The Babblings Of Men

I hold no one to the babblings of men

nor quest to prove or divine

Whatever you were or will be

is never held back by my mind

If the flash of your future is true

what you are will come in your time

and it will not upturn my words

nor ever diminish my rhyme

We all are exposed on our road

and our steps are taken alone

but the treasure we seek is the same

another waiting at home

We dance to our own private tune

hearing our own private sound

trying to know the unknown

and embrace what cannot be found

and words bind the whole together

and words prove we can find a friend

and words give us the power to hold

lovers who never end

If I sing a song of women

If I sing a song of men

when we chance to dance those movements

we have found the way to begin

Scorn not the blush of the cheek

nor the rush of the heart to embrace

for we’ve come here to watch and listen

for any recognizable face

Beware The Eyes With A Jealous Taint

Beware the choosing of leadership

A poet should live all alone

Move quickly from pain to pain

Words are your only home

Just live – there you can be

Beware the collapse of the victorious phalanx

As it breaks through fearsome human walls

Step over the misused bodies with care

You could take one in the balls

And live

Beware the recant of sanctimonious fools

That you corner with your rhymes

March briskly on to grander engagements

You could get trapped in their times

And live

Beware the eyes with a jealous taint

Avoid that bottomless pool

Or surely be gorged with innocent blood

The drink of the common fool

And live

Beware the holding of land and love

You dreamed them there to be kissed

All dreams can hold you in a passionate grip

Yet have the substance of a morning mist

Just live, and let them be free

Every sunrise – there they will be

The Highest Word

If I crossed a line along the way,

and a broken heart led me astray;

it was just to find the words to say,

and free the judge from judgment day.

We rise so high and then fall down

each listening for a secret sound

hidden in the sorrow we have found,

but louder lies just drive us in the ground.

If I climbed up to my highest place,

and sang my songs out into space;

would you even recognize my face?

I swear I never meant to bring you to disgrace.

The truth is not consuming light.

Love is found in long cold nights.

Words should announce our coming into sight;

not echo down the trails of our flight.

If what I say could set you free

to find the most that you could be;

why would you turn away from me,

and keep my pages where no one would see?

Why would you bring yourself that pain?

It cannot make you right again.

Outside your door I’m waiting in the rain,

and though my ink is running it will stain.

If you are the highest word

along the way we ever heard;

it’s just to wisdom that we all deferred,

and lost ourselves in passions that you stirred.

Cup Of Kindness

I went down to the river by a deep quiet pool

and lay down on the bank with the sun on my face

and thought of you washing the rust from my skin

What a cool cup of kindness for a wandering fool

We try to give names

We try to own the land

We try to drive the bad

from the good of a man

I once swallowed a river of dancing clear words

and they moved so inside me like fine lace in the wind

and stepped out on my paper with such delicate tread

What a bright cup of kindness for a wandering fool

We try to make love

Try to keep hold a hand

We try to drive the wrong

from the right of a man

I once met a stranger on dark twisting road

He claimed he just came there to keep me from harm

and he died at my feet looking up in my eyes

What a last cup of kindness for a wandering fool

We try to believe

and try hard to know

We try to drive the lies

from the truth of a man

What we have made us, and what we will be

is all that we are in the darkness we cross

Crossing me, crossing you, crossing me, crossing you

What a sweet cup of kindness for the wandering fool

The Drowning

looking at the wind

running through the broken glass

earthen in the emptiness

creating less and less

wandering in the driven ship

doomed to sink below

catching all the freedom feel

expanding into cold

warmth must sink below us now

painting here and there

walking out upon a mirror

face to face with truth

frozen in the fever grip

drawn into the flames

see another beckoning

dazzling down the sky

falling through the self at last

a mirror

a grave

a child

That Little Mouse

I walked through the halls of the mansions you kept

and sat at the foot of your throne

I followed the path of your steps as you stepped

through the wasteland you built as a home

all of your women and children were dying

of hunger in your bountiful land

your granaries were locked and you heeded no crying

in the grip of your cold iron hand

so shallow the grave

so cold the snow

that blankets the place where you lay

I couldn’t believe

what you wanted to know

and that’s why I walked away

I came to your rescue took the sword from your wall

putting order back in your house

and yes I could wield it from the throne in your hall

but not at that harmless little mouse

I’ll never be back for the kingdom you’ve made

or the prizes in your darkest place

soon all the memory and monsters will fade

in the light of her sweet loving face

so shallow the grave

so cold the snow

that blankets the place where you lay

I couldn’t believe

what you wanted me to know

and that’s why I walked away

The Bottom of the Ocean

She watches herself in her water;

every silver orb a face to dance a wave,

every wave an undulating goddess hip.

Atlantic moon pours out her cold remorse,

and stirs the skin above the great abyss.

At first my eyes were open,

the light of faces in my desperate dreams,

cloying at my meaning, given names,

afloat and touched like trances

ever onward toward my truth.

Yet sinking ever deeper I grew blind,

commingling tears with deeper darker flows,

hard pressing every secret from my soul,

to write the truth onto this archived wall,

at the bottom of the ocean in my blood.

Every savior sleeps beneath this flood,

shadows haunting temple ruins below,

drifting in the current of the dark,

renamed at last by drunkenness and fear,

too deep to reach the light of common sense.

Every kingdom settles to this floor,

tossed to twisted wrecks by storms of words,

grand endeavors crushed beneath the weight

of endless tears of error from blinded eyes.

Each Atlantis finds its falling star.

And when a heart is waiting to explode,

a heaving chest exhausted just for breath

lingering but to sing this song of death,

“Come kiss me, hold me close, and say goodbye”

at the bottom of the ocean - there we are.

Journal: Hard Rhymes, Hard Times, Wedding Chymes

I saw a hundred houses

atop a hundred hills

above a hundred rivers

danced a hundred whip-poor-wills

an endless stream of children

soaring up and down the night

back and forth in God

a surging pulsing flight

and then the kings came down

and stepped from their machines

to argue for the land

and divide the stuff of dreams

I saw the error coming

as the rocks began to change

I saw the rivers slowing

and the sky became so strange

and then the red was streaming

and men were killing men

the blade of love was gleaming

as God turned on himself

and holding in the wind

the shining circled ships

dodging the debris

the last to make the trip

across the burning sky

thrown down from the abyss

a star that slams to earth

the waters stand on end

and in their leather masks

at the castle in the pines

the dark eyed princes bed

every woman they can find

leaping off the parapet

a virgin begs the fire

fumbling in the dark

deflowered by a liar

running from the nightmare

memory blind with pain

standing by the altar

wondering ‘bout the stain

the king went up on Tara

certain he was sane

speaking only nonsense

mumbling in the rain

dancing every dance

as if it were the last

in that ancient temple

beside that weeping sea

the rhythm has no meaning

the motion is a trance

the bones may come together

but the mouths will never speak

the forms will fade away

not knowing what to say

the memories have no meaning

except before they were

there was a tree of crowns

no one could cut it down

sucked all the rivers dry

its branches hid the sun

hanging in the flood

the sagging ancient tree

torn by the torrent

uprooted within me

beneath the golden bough

once Abram made his bed

one night lost his head

woke up Abraham instead

from this imagined seed

a promised Christ would bleed

the wind erased his desert track

and he could not go back

standing for the lost cause

at the edge of my own tracks

waiting there for Gilgamesh

a defender of the flesh

there before the thorny crown

the bees have gathered ‘round

the ax is laid into the oak

the gods have tumbled down

children of that Hebrew king

of mind, of blood, of both

all come to open Babylon

to split from loin to mouth

standing in the battle

naked, sharp, and sweet

bleeding on the ground

before the sandaled feet

the bodies of two brothers

laying side by side

wilting in the sun

no coin on any eye

walking through Jerusalem

I saw that Jesus’ house

laid out on a hillside

split from loin to mouth

I saw a westward river

completely filled with dead

flowing in and out the mouth

of every human head

I knew that it was bloody

I tasted without shame

I recognized the face

I knew the other name

I became an island

the water went around

the Christ became the Babylon

and cut his own tree down

floating in the darkness

higher than the sun

I fall through every window

I blacken every light

the truth was in confusion

we are born out of a night

the mind has spilled the blood

the blood has drowned the mind

back before the tree

before the fallen star

an infant spoke to me

saying “none of us are free”

though I tipped his glowing cradle

and dashed him to the ground

my brothers fell upon me

and trampled out my sound

let the baby faces

fill up the final sky

there is no revelation

not condemned to die

there will be no memory

of ancient paradise

there is no recollection

that will not die a Christ

just above the water

I watch the dead float by

Jesus after Jesus

in the twinkling of an eye

all the floating bodies

may rise without regret

when the answer that they died for

becomes what they forget

spitting in the wind

off the bridge at Channel Bay

crumpled on a corner

in the snow Thanksgiving Day

sons of darkness elude the choice

the god is technology

sons of darkness have no voice

to anyone who is free

I saw the infants hanging

in the magic room

I heard their chains a clanging

I saw their changeling womb

no belly surged to push them

no burning pain, no labor cry

no flesh and bone to crush them

no blood, no quivering thigh

in a canister on a shelf

you may evolve without pain or blame

but if you can cut your cord yourself

you will be born without a name

sons of light may float bedight

on webs of energy

sons of light avoid the night

of individuality

all around the worlds

in and out of sight

ideas come to direct us

on little wings of light

though we walk a hundred worlds

lost in a magic night

all it will do is infect us

to hell with the eyeless light

sons of darkness, sons of light

neotany or sorcery

sons of darkness, sons of light

reason and nothing, never free

what I can or cannot see

makes no difference to me

none of them has an answer

not one of them is free

something less then air

we name as our divine

because as we search ourselves

it’s all we seem to find

with some elusive key

we strive to open some lost door

to hope, and peace, and light

and end this painful night

but kings, and things, and other people

excrete that power we all crave

and it leaks into our being

like rot into a grave

don’t look for revelation

or love from above to be more

if you find the missing key

lock the ancient door

inside a woman dreaming

I saw the children’s home

the grown-ups all were dying

inside the sleeping bones

deep between two thrones

I saw a river flowing

drowned out by the tones

there was another knowing

in the human dream

a thought may shake a stone

but we always will be lonely

until we are alone

Jesus gives that nothing

the empty hand, a trick?

I saw a tortured body

nailed to the marriage stick

there is another passage

beneath the orphan’s home

we always will be lonely

until we are alone

over the river and through the woods

blinded by our tears

we search for a place behind our eyes

and fall on our face and die

play me a tune, or dance to the music

it’s meaningless to me

it’s all the same show, and it’s yet to be ours

and I just want to be free

the love we think will save us

contained us as we began

it’s not something anyone gave us

there was no benevolent hand

the swaddling shroud we’re wrapped in

the failing skin and bone

sprang out of someone else’s love

and is meant to become our own

swept away in the river, lost in the woods

blinded by a veil that’s only love

we take off our body like and old gown

and look up hoping we’re found

and in the end we find our rest

and forget what we thought we knew

and put the self same garment on

by believing it’s love brand new

I’d rather be a wild river

I’d rather cut a straight new trail

and give marriage dignity

even if we fail

one nothing flowing endlessly

one reason always above

in this same, our only name

is written on our love

my children dance in the shadow of death

to rough music and hard rhymes

I will not go gently into a childless night

the name of my God is – Hard Times

one day you just wake up

and step into a name

and the first thing you’re aware of

is how to feel ashamed

don’t call me anything

you don’t know who I am

I only come from nothing

and will not willingly be damned

I have no remembered beginning

and have yet to end

and have come to understand

what I must defend

up the steps I’ve followed

the ancient blood red trail

treading after Lancelot

searching for the Grail

and now the music has met me

and my bleeding words have kissed her

and the forgotten song has rung free

down the valley of death and further

I know that few will sing along

and the melody will disappear

but not before it falls like thunder

into the ear that can hear

I will not spout again the tired flames of truth

nor mouth the weary rhymes of right

I go to wife and bed

to make my own brand new night

next to me beneath our stars

my world lays entwined

limb for limb and grasped

with all the genius I can find

and in new moonlight eye to eye

our tears are mixed like rhymes

and the only music echoing

is ringing wedding chymes

The Charm

where is the child bride

the Jesus princess in his bed

where are the children of his flesh

where is the one he wed

I saw babies hurled and dashed

against the wailing walls

children disemboweled and lashed

to pillars in great halls

was he a wandering shaman

or something other than us

was he not born of woman

in what have we put our trust

temple doors all thrust aside

before the reddening flood

for every step a child has died

the path is washed in blood

where was the heat in his blood

where was his hope for a child

how can we ever make good

if marriage will end us defiled

I think it was a minute ago

or else just yesterday

we killed ten thousand children

and got back on our way

how can we hold and cleave

why do we even try

when the savior we try to believe

thinks we’re better off dead

oaths and words in blood are vain

we pump no magic potion

every man is marked of Cain

murder our form of devotion

between the graven Cherubim

in the mist of growing fire

the licking tongues of flame enfold

the object of desire

I knew that I was blemished

still I lay upon the slab

I thought that’s what you wanted

you always made me call you Da

but you never knew the meaning

of the altar or the blood

and now you want my children

to be swept into the flood

and though Isis cried a river

on the day she set aside

Osiris could not save her

from your desert where she died

I’m picking up the stones

and bringing back the ghosts

and Gilgamesh comes with me

and all the bloody host

in the fashion of a fool

perched upon the gory throne

you gnaw the flesh of children

and crack the tender bone

in the manner of the beetle

you roll the ball of dung

but my love will not defend you

and your name will be unsung

Bernadette loves Isadore

they’re waiting at the ruins

with the answers to the questions

and all the ancient tunes

Locksley Hall? I burned it down

and sacked it full of joy

I’ve come to rescue Guinnevere

from all your lies and ploy

I’m picking up the stones

I’m bringing back the ghosts

Shekinah waits beyond me

in her deadly glowing bones

cast the axel, fire the sword

let the mountains roar

I’m waiting at the threshold

like a fire upon the door

beat the drum, call the air

let the piper cry

out beyond the starlight

where the eagles cannot fly

when the children disappear

as if they never were

tainted blood on loveless thigh

nameless stillborn tears

every stone in disarray

shall fall into its place

every monkey dancing now

shall turn to have no face

raise that bloodied beard

beyond the edge of night

bellow in the wounded king

like all consuming light

for now the circle stands again

no foggy moor, no mystery

and naked children dance at dawn

with Tristan and Isolde

the gentleness has left the air

it tears the lungs like claws

the tender hearted servant

stands erect upon the earth

the word is thunder, the verse is death

the rhyme has torn asunder

the fabric of the worthless cloth

the ambition and the blunder

the stones have picked themselves back up

the ghosts have put on flesh

Shekinah covers up the earth

and no one makes it home

walk the path and work the charm

sound the chill alarm

from just behind the mist

recite the words of harm

in the ringing verse

undo the lifelong curse

remember all the ancient tones

and clack the dusty bones

in derision, form the vision

and stir the pallid bowl

in the naked smoke and blood

tell the making of the whole

lift the stones and free the bones

unleash their hideous light

out onto this dying desert

this thirsty crying night

one at a time, two by two

the drum, the pipes, the gong

keen with all the innocents

the deadly cradle song

stone and bone, rain and blood

undo the fearful gain

thunder, lightening, storm and flood

reveal the treasure of the pain

word and coin, wind and sword

clever hand ignored

whisk away the chest of lies

‘tis not a sinless horde

hammer and nail, thorn and snail

the bells of Sharon toll

weak and frail, sharp and slow

steadfast, relentless and whole

up on Megiddo the tower awaits

for the final word to be spoken

while here in the menace of shadow

a spell is cast that cannot be broken

Whiter Than White

I’ve heard a lot of white people use Jesus’ name

tell stories ‘bout his life and boast about his fame

how he rose up from a dead man and wants us to do it too

and how he’s going to come again like a king when we’re all through

he’s not red like a sunset on the edge of the night

but suffering on suffering he’s whiter than white

his children are whirlwinds who bring us only tears

they take what they want and kill us without fear

they poison a land that they don’t even own

and just move on to another and make it their new home

their kingdoms are built on the bones of our dead

the wine of their vineyards is sour and bloody red

so Jesus forgive me if I have to turn away

forget about my suffering on your homecoming day

I don’t really care if it’s kings you're going to be

all I really want is a place I can be free

I won’t bother any one I’ll live out on my own

all that I ask is that you just leave me alone

so come take your kingdom and sit down on your throne

I won’t bother any one I’ll just live on my own

make your white children the kings at your feet

and send me far away where the land is still sweet

Dream Catcher

I heard tell of an ageless dreamer

who fishes a great abyss

and endlessly weaves with fine old fingers

a net into all the beyond

beaded rawhide, thread of hemp

eagle feathers dangling

streamside pearl of mussel shell

hammered silver spangling

owl’s foot, bear claw, powdered elk horn

moss, flint, tobacco and corn

big medicine strung through every shadow

of savage relentless love

I heard tell of an ancient dreamer

who doesn’t ever miss a thing

who strains out every spark of being

and never forgets a name

I heard tell of a peaceful dreamer

who believes that love is the proof

still I wonder what that dream catcher caught

and if those secrets will ever be shared