Some of My Own Poems

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It might be less one hoped

              and more.

Fleshed out, timed out, all-run

              life-ball.

Rain to soil, swell to stream,

              deep-fall

whiffs of evers before

              our days

of open ways with form,

              with clays

handed new, fired in, for,

              our rays.                                                      (Sept. 2017)

OURS

Existence bare, most plain,

just what is thing.

Existence only, all,

whole running ball.

Existence life, out come,

out earth, out sun.

Existence mind, live see,

light you, light me.

Existence we, right thrown,

to show, know, own.                          (Nov. 2016)

DREAM TO SLEEP

Under watch, set of lock,

    beat keeps, lets deep away

    into star fields below

    the winding, binding world,

    herely, nowly unmoored.

Rose spotted serene, yet aside, unseen but by me

    in sparkling crystal-lighted crowded room,

    I seek you, hurry out the streets

    up to light rail empty far you more,

    losing our mission, our bouy in the sea.

Shored onto burning Sunday sand,

    you cross-sit seeing me

    walking to your eyes

    in deliciousness of me,

    my form you know

    you how you can you do.

Rocked ever to all days,

    we walk out our door

    to the parade of loves.

Not taken all wishes,

    chambered, full hair blond,

    winded with sheers onto satin

    bare she shines desire,

    forgone, ungrown.

For him found, our rock,

    our flowers, hours, our hands

    let now release to work, create,

    now to day break.

On round whirl round to ground,

    red drop jewel green blade,

    last sun red this last sky,

    sink under weak watch,

    loose lock, last beats,

    back to rolling boy

    in joy of grass and air

    evening over ever.                  (Jan. 2017)

Latest one: SO

(Edited by Stephen Boydstun on 11/24, 1:29am)

So

That route to audio has failed. Let's try this one.

Dream to Sleep

The Song

(Edited by Stephen Boydstun on 11/07, 6:55pm)

That It Had Been

You had gone away to yourself and thought

thank you I had been with you, your story,

that all the story had been.

That trees had been, the world its whirl and seasons,

that you had been an inside and seen out,

that some cool constant of mind had stayed

through the horrors of disease and wreckage

and deaths of the most precious animal.

That tables and mirrors and books

their scent their open

in words to feelings and truths and stories.

That plows and wheat and granaries,

that motor oil and chain hoists,

that red iron and hammer and sparks.

That grapes and wine.

That water.

You came back and we talked of thanks

and talk was through and we made love.                             (May 2020)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Island

Orbits back, forty-nine,

marching, tuned true upon that shore,

pulling through, through that cooling water

under that breezing blazing blue.

Sun-burning young lovers,

stepping those dunes, under desire,

baring on high sands, only we

under that sky, beside that sea.                                   (August 2020)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is Love                          (May 2020)

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(Edited by Stephen Boydstun on 8/30, 6:30pm)