Old Houses

How does one contain years,
In a barrel like rain,
Echoes in echoes?
In archives of the brain
Are endless selves
And more stored in
Footfalls from the floor,
Reverberating shelves,
Old doors swung open
And black water rimmed
In staves , hollow lapping
Sounds --cellar toads.
In codes of shadow,
Webby light and seasons
Stored in secrecy is
Resonance, frequencies
Of old houses, libraries,
Years that formed the
Years that formed us.
There are brighter things
To be, but none so
Thrilled in mystery.

Back In 2012

One night our brains slipped
Out, grew hair, got into the
Attic and started scratching.
An angry mob resulted on
The Rim of Hell. Well,
Avalanche was inevitable.
We slid scrabbling gravity
Into oil burning in oil.
Theology scalded off and
Past had access to our souls
That the future is denied.
It's a wonder no one died!

Opera Logic

In opera, wars end
In strolls among flowers,
Coruscating country folk--
Strife flees a jolly
Polka, jokes upon passion, power.
In opera, wars end; hagiarchy
Bends to lovers'
Tears, children praying.
In opera-- fears, betrayal,
Insurrection-- whispers
Snag upon gardens
Over reunion, pardon.
Voices blend --in opera
Wars end.

Athanor

A towering oven,
Rarefying entropy,
Elutriates what is
Tame in me, or is it
Tumbled walls,
A castle gate open
Onto wild sea?
Sometimes I discern
The heart of it, this
Alchemy of objects,
Shadows, love
Racing among old trees,
Mounded roses, ablaze
Where lightning stung.
I go where it goes while
The storm is young.