Before I turn away

I'd like to say a few written words
looped and malformed as they are
marooned on the page

illegible, they run to indelible
tangle on the tongue, then tangible
become

they can't be taken back now, undone-
soon I will go to the page and learn forms
and discipline new,

and tried and tied nomenclature of
nominated sages in ages
where everyone grew

and I will till the form like loam soil
and in the proper way - do,
or so I am told

I will surrender then this voice of old
forgetful crystal moth - golden mouthed
boy

bad mouthing forms no more, readily tossed
and so shall depart these literary shores
and return un-barred, so they say

But- before I go, let me give you this room:
Gaze up and sip the soft libation cups
of light

pouring up to my midnight ceiling, quiet
in their light revealing
the glorious sheen of brass and chain

they gain a hold of this dome of a room
and hold me in a light inflection
of gravity

I become you become me, a balloon
to lift us into
the nocturnal serenity

gaze now at the indiscrete green
lit curtains, theatrical in their
folds down there

bold as colonies of old,
temple walls holding in the night's magic
in which, all who still dream, believe

is held in there, suffusing the air
decanting night through a
balcony

like a mystery, gently held at bay
if only beyond the door
unafraid

feel now, the soft luxuriant stucco
underfoot- of thick pile rugs massage
your exploring toe

and breathe in the wool and the clean
the cotton, the serene, let the touch
auger a pulse of senses in your soul

cat-like kneading at the Mother milking room
you'll never want
to leave

needing to feel its stillness fill your
finality, close your eyes, the slow
rhythmic hum from the kitchen

laundry rattle and tick hypnotic in
the mind’s eye, familiarity
in domestic normalcy

a House, breathing as it does,
faithfully- each night, as we slumber
and our senses ebb away

this is You now: slow breathing
on a soft couch, book in hand
and inner mind landscapes of life

cherish this normality as you hear
the night winds howl around the house,
and the distant lost- curse

you could be worse, sleeping some pain
far from here, where
the means justifies the end

but now, we're near: it's time to
move on and find a different world
in words out there

wherever You are, I've come this far alone,
maybe now these woods, dark and deep
would be lovely to roam.