to 5

    on the 5ives




               ‘There are things we live among’
arrangement & division
                        of ourselves

precarious in the light before dawn
            pink then white as the blurred
                         edges of trees

            move against a grey background—

‘You are tender my Love….’
            vestiges of moral regret—your last
      visit  ‘infinite tracing of our voices’

            when you had stirred my mind out of dust
                         at an hour far from any other
                                                        ‘agitante calescemus’

with the difference that the light
                         came through the window at the back
          eighteen  months from when I first
                                     entered your life& saw the

moon cut into an angle above the door
                         & heard you call out my name
                   through rooms faint with odors of paint

                                                            & lemon-seed oil.

‘The autumn leaves blow from my hand’
            as compassion acknowledges these
                                     ________‘veins in the stones’

Principles of feminine and masculine
            each hour ‘the sleight of words in isolation’
                        as what was proffered

                        from the sea caves
              blackened flakes of fire
                                           copper shells

                    lay untouched at daybreak.       


              And the words
‘of the dead past that I bear in me
             & that has never been anywhere                  Pessoa

                but in me’

                        so that you too would become
part of the objective lesson
                                                   in fatefulness

‘A hint of what was going to be’
                                    caught in the fault tides—
                     ‘wave upon wave catching the light bodies’

Of our companionship.  ‘The waves
                                   rise, and the waves fall—
                   But you are like the moonlight’

I heard the dislocation of your presence
                                    understood more than knew
                         penitence must be made here.


Habits of a lifetime concealed—
                    ‘And if I see her not, no sight is worth
                                   the beauty of thought’

compassion instructs the hand
         weighted by seed
                            to hold over brass

root of basilica, a plate of copper
                                     saved from the fire. 
               Yet when did you see

that the blade is part of the process—
                                  that steel will cut into
                                                      your outstretched palms 

                                until the blood soak through.





                       In passing
                          ‘the lives of absent flowers’

a blaze of lapsed – or perhaps it was ‘collapsed’–blooms”
set along the table’s left margin

                                             I wandered without word
                                    cyclic soul I saw the return
                                                                  of Her

                        abandoned in the green
                                                deep of an eye
                                    firework of the mind’s creation

                        ‘And the stone eyes again looking seaward’

                             you have aged in the year since
              these stones arranged inside the plastic container
                                            aloe & cactus in lowmoving light

                                    And now sunken
                    as where you & I attend
                                                        movement’s drift

                   returns us to its birth light
                                         seabreak of crystal sun
                               that you come to us

                                       bathed in light
                                                       femina of the mind’s circuit
                       earthly pallor of our one flesh

                                                as we kneel in wet sand

                         ‘O lady we are without resources…
help us move toward the light…             
             O teach us
                        over harm…over hate

         to build anew
                        in the light flowing, whelming
                                                 the stars.’ 




for Sharon

andrew mossin