now all the fingers of this tree(darling)have, by e.e. cummings

.

now all the fingers of this tree(darling)have
hands, and all the hands have people; and
more each particular person is(my love)
alive than every world can understand

and now you are and i am now and we’re
a mystery which will never happen again,
a miracle which has never happened before–
and shining this our now must come to then

our then shall be some darkness during which
fingers are without hands; and i have no
you: and all trees are(any more than each
leafless)its silent in forevering snow

—but never fear(my own, my beautiful
my blossoming)for also then’s until

heart it chokes

defiant orion burns bright tonight.
‘i will fight for you,’
he says,
‘i will always be here for you
and love you
and fight for you,
through all these lightyears
i will burn out my love eternal
with all that i am 
and can be 
and can’t be
for you.’

Bells. by Edgar Allan Poe

I

Hear the sledges with the bells - 
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells - 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells - 
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! -how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells - 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells - 
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells - 
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells - 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells - 
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people -ah, the people - 
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone - 
They are neither man nor woman - 
They are neither brute nor human - 
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells,
Of the bells - 
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells - 
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells - 
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells - 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

my life is one bigfat magical

my life is one bigfat magical
Kiss On The Mouth.
a nice one i mean,
not messy or too hard or too short,
but a Perfect Kiss,

because
autumn comes and fills these lungs,
and nothing is lacking, not one good thing.
(of course there are lots of lacking things
but this is me being grateful for simplicity;
oh! but don’t you dare think the lack feels bad.

have you ever kissed a horse
on the graceful neck behind the round cheekbone
right on the arching beautiful scented coat
smiling too close to your lips to see
big and powerful
with every Might and every Beauty in absolute symbiosis
forever?

i have.
and that is my love.

Of Invitations

at times
one must decline the most honorable
and accept the most radical
Of Invitations;
and here/now i present these examples:

.still
among stately towering family
(notquite oldgrowth)
–cousins, at least, if not siblings–
whose welcome/smile was
sincere
of course(emphatically confirmed by beetles/walkingkisses)
but to stay
would be to
face tall expectations,
like marrying into the Amish.

then,

.still
before fluttering alluring depth
and lovely drifting woodbodies,
oh!greentree/mountain/sunshine peak-surrounded;
that laughing clarity-blue
cannot,
Must Not
be refused
(to gaze is to commit)/and worth every shiver.

delighted

Happy Birthday Bob Dylan

.
swarthy with new coffeeroast, my
skin relates to rampant high,
choke on moments’ friction-by;
Happy Birthday Bob Dylan.

past and future collide to now,
if you can’t help i’ll show you how
blind and moteless eyes endow,
Happy Birthday Bob Dylan.

walk along behind the fence
and Honest Think up through the bents,
faces gaunt or white or tense–
Happy Birthday Bob Dylan.

today

today
is my favorite day
because
my bright soul
greets your mammoth clouds,
sky,
with awe and gratitude;

and i like how you are now a cleancold  playful shower
and now a yellow lightpouring smile,

and my lungs know that life is lovely
even pedaling up the long slopes pointing there where polarbear cumulus forgot his lofty airs
and bellies down to your rooftops, town,

you town where i live
(but mostly breathe)
and smiling friends are gladglad company
–that bliss of friendplace where no matter how deep you dig things are okay;

but there’s more, the most meaningful more
comes in
because there is a Voice

whose Delight it is to puzzle
for us,you,me,humanity,
puzzle for us the Path,
the good,worthwhile,eternal,yes,soulsearing
Path that we Seek,
all we,
and the Voice speaks for the listening,
do you know?
the Voice is when crashingdistraction
of worldworld you shove away
(you can shove it away, you can!)
and then you can know for Real.

and so
today is my favorite,
and when tomorrow is today
(i don’t know)
maybe it will be my favorite too?
in that today
i’ll check for you
and let you know.