fury and mire

beyond these hills are more hills and the sea
life is the same as well on other shores
the same green plants born of similar spores
the same cool shade under the morning tree
we watch the folk as they go out to spree
knowing at night we'd hear the same old snores
and morning brings the same settling of scores
all that we are is what we've sought to be
under each skin the same beating of blood
through the same veins and by similar art
the same sharp intake of astonished breath
all of these matters easy understood
take no account of every different heart
nor of the unity that comes with death

verb sap

we have to be but each word has to mean
something to others something we can share
so that they'll listen in the open square
or while they picnic on the public green
words must contain a lot more than a sheen
of clarity in the fresh morning air
we have to think and we have to compare
each actor on the stage each acted scene
for truth and honesty require debate
so that we all may see things in our heads
and not be worried about every fact
lies and evasions properly should grate
even those sluggards hiding in their beds
and verity should show itself intact

murmur name upon name

as voices break through calms that are too deep
the echoes of the silence fill our hearts
after a time of errors and false starts
the door has opened and we have to weep
for all the things that from the dark do creep
entities of such broken and dull parts
that we cannot restore them by true arts
our healing powers have all gone back to sleep
never before have we desired the night
not to depart but neither to remain
a moment of transition that would stay
until we find out how to set all right
neither our sorrow nor our joy restrain
and once again remember how to play

always needful

 Words never matter
say our politicians
since theirs are empty;

to nourish the heart
we need poems and stories
from each fresh spirit.

All revolutions
begin with clear honest words
challenging silence.