DESIRE OUT UNDER

                          

            They could have sailed stayed far away for good 
            fruit season picking, her parents happier hearing
            of a match with post card swipe . perch name display.

            Instead he caved . recessed each day sand bush
            canals encroaching . road ways too narrow, heart wild
            no! turns . dust swallowing cart and camels in distress. 

            His suits hung out for ties, impress off shore pending : 
               What nibbled at his core?  School yard leaks that 
            dribbled down his village leg . the hurt, that city surge
               men jeered his tail wind stall.   

               Mate mandate would rear up red blue take until one
              night long unfulfilled  ̶  sick dissembling, sick of sponging
           off tuck! hold! faith healing  ̶  so unrelieved! the floor smooth
           knees now parting for any old new normal miracle stream.

           Straighten my fork bend . so dreams form matter, she bares,
                       right to rend bridling our feast.

                       Breach in, breath out  ̶  how our trails
              blaze!  ̶  the air trust up strip whoosh . curves off
          the lamb's tale carving arcs, heaven 'n' earth, her east. 

                                                                        -W.W.            

                                                                                                                                

                             

                     

 

                                                                                                        

                    
               EULOGY FOR JODY PRINZ

              The Light out of which she emerged lit her path
                of pain which was hers only, while bearing
              all of ours. Light was her whispering herald, 
                her faithful dog, her silver cloud never
              directly above her, though always within, 
                hazed and more than misted, always dying
              to burst, always reaching out across the dark
                  space between two people like an angel's
              wings not knowing quite how to fold in either
                  embrace or resignation  ̶  just as she,
              by choosing to keep on breathing, could never
                  fully surrender to the heavy pull 
              of pain she bore so lightly, as an angel
                  might absorb a tugging kite's insistence
              ̶  as though, were it not for her anchoring grace,
                  the kite at any moment could pull her
              soul upward, away to other focuses
                  of starcloud  ̶  as indeed it at last did,
              though not in any way we could have foreseen,
                 since all we may predict of the kite is
              that at last it makes us all drift out of the cloud
                 of breathing in which we float and back
              into the Light that yet keeps serving us breath.    

            
              (from "Within The Wind" © by Brian Chan)