to capture our gods

to capture our gods

catch them in motion

drawing on walls

living on the threshold

waiting for rain

wishing the rain away

waiting for rain

cats in the corridor

always wanting in

and out again

always wanting in and out

to capture our gods

catch them in motion

banging out sound 

living by owl-light

waiting for sun

wishing the sun away

waiting for sun

cats in the corridor

always wanting in

and out again

always wanting in and out

to capture our gods

catch them in motion

wearing new faces

living by hoax

waiting for moonrise

wishing the moon away

waiting for moonrise

cast in the corridor

always wanting in

and out again

always wanting in and out

into the wood

[[ it might be trance, drugs, meditation, dreams ]]

nothing else 

only this horse

only

only the horse

only

nothing but this horse

nothing

nothing but this horse

nothing

so saddle up

put on your hat

your hat

put on your hat

your hat

nothing but this horse

nothing

nothing but this horse

nothing

and then hold on

we are almost gone

into the wood

you feel so good 

you forget 

you feel so good 

you forget 

nothing but this horse

nothing

nothing but this horse

nothing

you forget 

you have ever 

wanted

you forget 

you have ever 

wanted food

you forget 

you have ever 

felt this

you forget 

you have ever 

felt this good

you forget

almost

to breathe

people say 

you're wasting

people say 

you waste away

people waste 

their days

saying things

when they could
go with you

into the wood

A lighted torch

[[ Have you seen the hand stencils in the caves? ]]

A lighted torch,

then hands reach
through the dark

(reach through the dark)

The artist's hands

a conjurer's hands

reach out to you

(reach out to you)

from when they were

(from when they were)

to when we are

(to when we are)

from what we were

(from what we were)

to what they have

(to what they have)

what we have become

give up the ghost

[[ What can this mean? The narrator's nervous system is haunted. ]]

give up the ghost

= = = = =

little ghost

I know you're in there

the light is soft

the tem-per-a-ture is 

in-ex-pli-ca-bly low

this sound is mind

this sound is mind

this sound is mind

this sound is mind

rest, little ghost

= = = = =

another day 

the little ghost returns

returns with little friends

each little ghost 

is in my spine

swim-ming in 

my spi-nal-flu-id

swimming through 

each after each

the rings of bone 

my vertebrae

a circus trick -

hop through the hoop

each after each

a ring of bone 

a ring of bone 

a ring of bone 

a ring of bone 

a ring of bone 

as if a school 

of little fish

each little ghost 

swims up my spine

and waits beneath 

the inland sea

open mouthed

open, close

oh oh oh oh

= = = = =

I clasp my hands 

and peek inside

aha!

another ghost is here

where have you been?

the other side

[[ I sometimes write about boundaries, membranes, layers
I also sneak alternate readings into it. In this case, someone is walking on water and talking about life on the other side, crossing to the other side, and looking down through the ice to life on the other side.
 ]]

I remember the snow

I remember the cold

We would watch our words 

each turn to cloud 

In the middle of the winter

we would walk to the river

hold hands [[ there would be a musical pause here, a shift... and then they step off ]] 

and step off this earth

and walk across this river

step off solid earth 

and walk to the other side

we would brush clear the ice

to watch the world float under

we would clear the smooth ice

to watch a reflection of sky 

and watch the fish swim

there was life on the other side

A Christmas Carol

[[ I suppose this is easier to look at as a poem than as a song, but it's a Christmas carol of sorts. In summer a water strider prefigures the birth of Christ. Maybe this is the birth of bug-eating John the Baptist. Then, a half year after, when water turns to stone, Mary the bursting girl says his name. ]]

In liquid summer,

surface tension:

a strider

bending light.  

A silver circle 

under sky:

fish dart at

beating wings.

Round the sun,

water to stone

transfigures

in the change.

At the cleaving

of the year, 

song is sung and

bell is rung

for universe

on either side:

for animal,

for spirit cloud.

Set to burst,

a girl sobs,

then says a name

in rising steam.