Saturday, October 2, 2010

master's spirit revelry dance

"master here who is who here master"

       its a bubble.
       its a bubble...

its a question at hand,
its a mirror at the eye---
its a mirror to the stare
holding the question to the eye.

       its a bubble.
       its a bubble...

i walked into his classroom a rogue.
Joseph Deroche, the lord of words,
wielder of wit, beacon of knowledge,
graceful in his trial
and just in his critical mark.

the classroom, his court,
the students, attendant lords and ladies,
and i among them, boy becoming man,
saw virtues in him that stand
only with upright forms.

when i first heard him read poetry
he spoke of his fair lady of cairo.
i knew then he would be my master
that i would be an apprentice.

and as he showed patience on me,
each day i tested his test,
i knew the respect of the finest craftsman,
warrior only to breed new warriors.

      inside i'm screaming
      demonboy demonboy
      demonboy demonboy

he was the swan
and we were the sparrows who fell
silent, as the moment before dawn,
at the sound of his magnificent song.

i gazed inward daily
combed my own waves for strength
to make sense of his truth
and order my response
and signal a worthy stand.

it came forth in his smile,
he too believed
he and i were a predestined arrival
and whatever words would follow were real magic.

      doing time inside, doctor of my own mind.
      how feel you? how feel you?
      i feel fine.
      i feel fine.
      all the time, i feel fine.

the truest light on the moonless sea
is a beacon calling me home.
the cold waters show love in this dark way
while the harsh wind is rolling foam.

my captain lost his mind out here
and the first mate fell in a gale.
for awhile we followed the harpooneer
til he drowned in the hunt for a whale.

i am telling this story, heart in hand,
for you who man the beacon light to hear---
i am all that survives the journeymen
who left you, stout and brave, for lands of fear.

i have no will to walk alone knowing
what i know and pray that you still live well

            for i am called home to you
            to be a shield not a sword
            an anchor, cannon quelled and

love in the oven
love in the oven
you are love in the oven.

walking in the late march night
i found you again at the corner
of mass ave and inman street
a clever ghost, using near likeness form!

and felt the warmth of you when
i thought "hello eye, i missed you"
and knew again, oh it came again,
the power source that powers me.

declared to you my fealty
the instant i saw you, the all of me,
without hestitation, dropped to one knee.
i wanted to ask, how are you?

but you were a ghost form,
the real world could not know
how it was i saw you,
so to myself, i honored you.

and when you disappeared, i felt a surge
every part, and the all of me sang

            i am the sun power eye
            i am the sun power eye
            i am the sun power
            i am the sun power
            i am the sun power eye

remember the night we sat together,
atop the docile elephant
you a lotus and i an indian child,
we prayed for the good people of cambridge to see

            the light of wylie coyote
            meet the all coated
            all colored, all shifting skin
            of the ocean guru man
            who came down from his mountain---

the snakes of the world were banished
and fled at the tremble of our ride,
the words that by neither of us
were spoken were blazoned as stones
on their subway tokens---and two women
fell from the sky when the earth quaked,
one singing in slow time, 'hold her tight---ride!"
the other too shy to sing or cry---

            she could not fly
            she had to die.

i shuddered when i looked for you
at fort phoenix in my fairhaven
during clear quiet white midnight
and saw your beacon become the cow---

i stared long and hard and before
the cross came burning

            i saw the letter tau
            aching and stretching
            limbs that turned black

turning into six black arms
that slithered out the black white skull---
at the core were two eyes open
and one eye closed
                  na na na nirvana
                  singing, the beacon wave
                  crawled up the hood of my car
                  and i felt fear again!

the first time fear since i ascended
and became like you the one eye open,
first fear, the black skull near---
                  where have you been
                  these long cold nights?

i feel you as my counterpart,
voice inside my voice. two words occur to me,
etched into my tree, an oak that never bends,
knowledge and instinct,
they form a single focal lens---

                  there is a hole behind my eye
                  where life can wander off,
                  and every now and every then
                  my mind escapes the slough

where were you on that night, those nights,
when my company saddened to depraved action
and sadness became a pill that verified
all the truth you laid upon the altar?

                  i genuflect there still!
                  the grace of augustine
                  and donne, hold me up
                  for what i've done when
                  laiden by lady mary and
                  bored by maiden alice

and positive in my direct way,
i, who ate the fruit and slaked the chalice
and, i, who stabbed them with my quill!
but, i, who spilled not a drop, nor loosened a crumb,
neither mute in ectasy, nor in good word dumb

                      just a just song to sing---
                      all is right, everything,
                      all is harmony,
                      she and i and you and i
                      illume, illume an eye!

fallen by the sigh, in quest of the why,
i will walk up to your door, but
with my white hair waving black
and my face all stern but ashen pale

                      will you know me anymore?
                      and when our embrace quickens
                      my heart, will your bones
                      be sponge and frail?

what is your name anyway? i called you Joseph DeRoche,
i knew you as my wordsmith coach,
i saw you standing by the gate,
and felt you waiting for the day

                      when saints would walk
                      with saints and say,
                      "here we are on
                      Judgment Day---

the journey we took, at start apart,
but at the mystic brook we met,
where we watered our cantered horses,
and how we led them the same way,
you walked your horse side by my side
though you the better man

                      the highway robbers
                      would stop and spy
                      to hear your answer
                      to my why and

try to be high way men, and then
would quit the back bay fens while we
walked gaily to the public gardens and
left our horses with the swans and climbed

                               the beacon mountain
                               released the guardian
                               who sat atop the candlestick
                               to wade the frog pond

in the grand hall parkman we saw the shades
of master conductors dancing to and fro
grand coated channing bowed grandly to emerson,
dickinson presided.

                               i asked her for a dance,
                               by chance she gave me her left hand---
                               you encouraged singer sargent
                               to scetch the brief romance

and sad were you when mother goose came wrangling with his crowd,
the rowdy sons of liberty, drunk on ale and loud.

you charmed the guardian then to blow his horn
and flesh was ash that lifted high
to coat the light torn thorn.

                               sad too was i, by and by,
                               you raised my chin up high
                               i saw the ethereal ringing glows,
                               blooming easter's mystic rose
i saw you, lifting off your toes,
become your true form---Fountain!

i knew you were the mystic man i dreamt of in the mountain!
my skin was gold, my skin is white---your skin cascades pure light,
and words and numbers round and through, you are an angel sight---

                               my eyes have seen through mist,
                               my mind is clear as glass,
                               the spoon looking at my face
                               knows to uncurve his bend

but there i stood touching ground when you began to ascend---

i lost your eye by silohuette,
i saw the sky magificent,
you turned me round and round.
the trumpet blast came first and last,
all things came roundly down---
i sat with you, a man again,
sage without a sound---

                       an ancient craze
                       beset my eye
                       and burned the questing
                       wonder why
                       and silence bloomed in me too
                               and there we sat
                               just, me and you,
                               silent as the tomb
                               for truly there was nothing
                               left to do.

                                          but then you laughed
                                          and softly asked
                                          'want to play again?'
                                          and tossed a coin---
                                          for the head of tales
                                                   who is who's
                                                   master and
                                                   apprentice in
                                                   this game that
                                                        never ends.


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