As Above

unwinding the binding, the tape still rewinding

unstuck in my head, nothing’s lost for finding

days and weeks and months at the fulcrum

spinning and winning and telling you i’m all done

my hands are stone and this fossil’s forgotten bone

then the stars peek through I hoot and I’m singing  home

not old enough yet to really feel the weight

not young enough Seth to really fill the plate

i’m caught in the middle, squawking like a raven

hoarse on the battlements and  laughing for the maven

of blood and mud and the lightning bolt and midnight

i try to catch my breath but she’s already out of sight

i sleep beneath the sands but find nary a worm

whispering to the Maker, wondering when this kid gets his turn

who was  i then and what am I now

still don’t know the riddle but this fiddle-crab can never bow

so below I wake and below I brew my mistakes

hard slinging the ringing and hoping to catch a potter’s break

as above so below

a promise is kept

but only in the undertow

song of the east, dance in the west

never mind my science, this is how the path is kept.

 

 

lighthouse psalm

geranium

the eruption

before

and always

sometimes but not

never

would play

the guitar.

would sing

would fight

would crow at the moon and steal sunlight from the garter of day.

geranium stole songs

sang songs

love songs

rain songs

plain songs

‘songs are no ones to claim’ ear pressed to a new breast, unspooling their riddle

geranium wore a crown of melody

tore a bite out of the throat of night

geranium howled louder than

werewolf opera

and shamed the lunatic gods

who dared a crockery-challenge.

But sometimes

not always

just once or twice

three times in a leering moon

geranium would play

a

secret song.

Not his song, not a stolen song, not a madcap march or a sideways sonata.

Never on stage, never on the page, never never never

where it could be caught,

polished like a unicorn stone

in the laser beam heart of the eruption.

A song, a spell, a secret

a story never told,

alone in the bower,

alone in the quiet dark,

the song that broke.

 

The song that called,

the song that lied,

the song that kept the green ribbon tied.

Then to now and now to then

any wonder such a thing is forbidden?

 

 

quiet the eruption

lighthouse psalm

waiting for a ship

that never comes home

 

the song is rare

but played all the same

for only one ear

who hears not the refrain

sea salt and marrow

white gold and arrow

up and down I dream in your —

 

 

Fire

fire

New York Public Library -Bloomington: view of the town after a sleet storm, Jan. 1871

Ice and snow and the outside of doors.

The town clutched itself.

A stranger came,

squat and empty like a jug.

He rattled on the windows and tapped on the doors.

He whispered only, ‘fire’

‘where is fire’.

The town did not answer.

The stranger whispered at the keyholes, ‘fire’

‘where is fire’.

He whispered and trudged and crunched, white snow around his black coat and brown boots.

The town did not answer.

The stranger came to the last house, the edge of town.

The window was blue with frost, but he could see inside.

Inside was gold, heat and bone and gold, and she saw him.

She saw him through the window.

She did not turn. She stood.

The stranger pushed empty fingers to the glass and whispered, ‘fire’

‘are you fire’.

She did not turn. She came to the window.

‘fire’ the stranger whispered.

She opened the glass, she took his hand.

‘fire?’

‘Yes’ she said.

 

She closed the glass and forgot the stranger.

He was nothing but boots in the snow.

 

 

Nostos No. 6

image

Lines of steel, smoke and shout
Metal church and earnest lout.
Darkness wither, ivy-heart beat
The cinder revival is button-stone feet.
Remember the gods, count up their names
titan-bone memory stokes up the flames.
The violet leaf and the shining thorn
All’s forgotten on seven-pence morn.
Circle of Six, five and the shadow
Beggars are princes in the ettercop’s barrow.
Keep a hand on the rail, and your stone on the blade.
Greenglass coffins wait in the shade.
Heroes or Fools or cannon-shot spite
All Time is stolen from the fingers of Night.

Geranium’s First Song

Watch all this wither

Watch as we gather

the leaves and grass

and broken things

threadbare heroes

and three-cross kings,

we sleep in the heart

we wait in the dark

until the cobblestones give way…

Watch all that glitters

Watch all that stains

the sun shines on the city

but tomorrow will rain

but tomorrow will rain

we dream in the earth

we dream of the sky

Green bone and promise

even blue dreams can die.

When the cobblestones give way

When the cobblestones give way…

http://rasberg.blogspot.com.es/
http://rasberg.blogspot.com.es/

Song of the Road – The Riddle Box

Song of the road, road made of song.
Who knew I would travel so long?
Stories and wind, campfire and rain.
When will I ever see my home again?
When will I ever see my home again?
 
Triumph and travel, teapot and steel.
Won’t someone tell me what I’m supposed to feel?
Lovers and liars, heroes and pain,
When will I ever see my home again?
When will I ever see my home again?
 
[bridge]
I walk through the sunshine, but only see night.
Even in the valley I stand mountain height.
Summers and Winters and Springs made of Fall,
The world keeps on turning and I forget them all.
 
Quiet and quick, I walk alone.
Who knew the cold could marry my bones?
Mud in the gutters, shadow and flame
When will I ever see my home again?
Never, oh never see my home again.
Never, oh never see my home again.

Bard’s Doggerel

Writing about music is like dancing about math.

Song in the scabbard and stone in the bath.

Hand in my pocket, heart full of dust

Robot Vandal is nothing but rust.

End of the road, bend of the way

the king’s thread-jester has nothing to say.

– Max Madwand, Bard of Gate City

Eli Wallach

image

See you around, Tuco.
Always moving forward,
Foul and sure
And human
And around and around you go.
Gunsmoke and desert sand in your teeth.
Your greed overmasters thirst and pain
And death itself.
But you have a brother
And you have another
Lie to trade with time
For one more day in the sun.
Slip your noose and run,
Your grin defiant and broken.
I will miss you until I see you
Leaving and hiding and
Biding amongst the dunes.