I.
The sway of palm shadow
In the window
Where the moon might have been.
The water glistens
On the passion flower vine
As the sunset,
Chaste and indifferent,
Rolls in.
II.
We wear masks to put ourselves to the side
When we rob you.
There was never anything personal
No matter how
Deep the shame was driven into you.
They'll walk away
With only a few coins and stones,
Nothing of your soul.
III.
The plane is longing
Despite it all,
The dreams the sleepers won't recall,
The thick cloud wool,
The assurances of the passengers
That everything must be
As it seems. The blue light glows
In another reality.
IV.
The passengers awake from their dreams,
Silence becomes talk
As if nothing exists but the words of it,
The enchanting sounds
Are a fountain beyond the engine's rear.
I tilt my ear
To know the meaning, but it is pure
Sound.
V.
Fuente sueno carries what it feels
Across to my soul.
Memories of others become my own
In the flow.
We are left with a shared emotion,
Nothing else.
The raptures that we've kept inside
Are safe.
VI.
On the chaparral, each limb
Hungers to be seen
Upright in the sand.
They vie in the wind
On desolate crags
For the life of sun
To know them by, what we recognize
Within.
VII.
The birds of the particular place
Shriek before nightfall.
The palms nod their fans without betraying
Their shelter.
The shadows indent what's been
Accomplished today,
A lot of silence, an invisible finger
Closing the lids of eyes.
VIII.
The fountain speaks through the brassy
Mouths of the frogs
As the pink bougainvillea
Surrender to sun.
The islands seem to know what goes on here
In their stone,
Though they are not islands at all
But illusion.
IX.
The rose glows as if it must retain
The day
As the shadows fall across the real
Now so enraptured with light
It moves beyond the known
Towards a holier
Place of illumination, where darkness falling
Takes on meaning.
