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Posts Tagged ‘stars’

Between Buildings

As children we sought new hiding spots,
explored between houses, down paths,
under benches, through gaps in stone
walls and wooden fences, between
churches and tombstones and stained
glass in day light, sheds and gardens,
between buildings where strange, unseen
flowering vines hid in summer,
unpicked fruit trees blossomed and no one
noticed us, they never even looked,
they wouldn’t have seen us
even if they tried,
even if they wanted to,
we had found the gaps to dance and sing in.

Peace in cities is in the wanderings
down side streets, alleys that lessen
the humming of the universe, where
graffiti can be appreciated and life can
be seen, felt in every window and on every
balcony, families sharing meals and someone
sitting out enjoying a beer and a smoke
listening to the radio,
the urban plants do their best to clean the air
between buildings, the only stillness left.

Then there was us in Venice,
it is better than they say,
being lost in Venice means anything
you wish it to mean, there is no
childhood pretending needed.

The apartment we stayed in had a
neglected courtyard between four walls,
over grown, cracked, forgotten, rusty barred
balconies and ripened vines, tattered drying
clothes out on lines, the sun was trying
to touch it all, the climbing plants grew
where it was possible to grow in the gaps
between brick rows out of the beautiful
sinking city and rose like
our heart fires rose.

At night, to look between buildings
into that city slivered sky, chasing
what can’t be seen, perhaps
a star or a place, some dream in the gaps
that dreamers dance between
what’s been built and what’s been felt,
in the veins of the city, or of the heart,
in the center, in between it all at night,
there is always hope for a small glow
of faint warm light.

Kyle McHale     2016

 

 

 

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The Warming Cold

Sweet snow powdered white wintry ground,
A place where my senses are keen,
Big sky is far from black with stars,
Serious ways, confusing dreams,

Have led to this culmination.
The coastline is out there afar,
Water holding secrets to life,
Floating pieces of what we are.

Cratered moon is in second place,
Though any other night it would
Steal my gaze to its secrets.
A night alone in deep cold woods.

Ice shield sides of far ridge lines
Parallel the ridge in my thoughts,
Tempting my senses to tingle,
Wishing for bear or arctic fox

Spirit to help contain my mind,
For cold white wild is calling.
Coastline follows to meet the ridge,
Ridge then seeks the live sky falling

Away to vast arctic places
That stretch their wonders to my feet,
To ask me questions without answers,
A place where cold and soul do meet.

It’s frozen time that keeps me here,
Just one thing is moving slowly,
The colors dance up in the air,
Reflecting on me fully.

This place is known by several names,
The sky is called different things,
Frozen rocks and trees lay still,
Compilation of all things,

Stir up my thoughts and frozen dreams
To hit my heart so very deep,
For in this wild dancing place
The warming cold I have to keep.

Kyle McHale      2008

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Red and Black and White

It can be more than meets my eye,
Red fire, black sky.
A color of a thing shall rot
And give me wrenching stomach knots.

For the black and the white are still
One without the chill.
It seems to pour hot tar on me,
Sharp razor salts in cuts from sea.

Worlds stop for love red fire,
And black desire,
Sometimes a black and white T.V.
For vision knows we still can see.

Oh things of universe collide,
Show me where to hide,
And take my hand for spit-fire rides
To places where I can see new highs.

Colorless ends are not for me.
I know what I see.
But soon when color has no home,
My heart will chill down through my bone.

Kyle McHale      2005

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Between Trees and Stars

What floats around the canopy
At night when owls and stars can see
The tops of giant evergreens
Where those wonders are seldom seen?

That place where trunks may kiss the sky,
Where wind and secret stars pass by.
Given life by remoteness deep
Into the woods the whispers keep

That very line a sacred place.
The last green needles seeking space
Towards heavens true star lit map,
An ancient road, an unworn path.

Between there sits some answers to
What can’t be seen in day time blue.
If only one could fly with owls,
Or travel as the grey wolf’s howl.

Kyle McHale      2011

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