Poetry by "Neon Veil"

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"Returning to stardust"

I follow your voice across the fields, dark and wheat.

I am a part, torn apart, from a whole.

You are my completeness –

The fingers of our soul-shards interlace.

The train to Gethsemane, its awe-filled roar –

Pulls the Christ out of me.

He takes me upon his cross, upon his back.

We run through the fields, dark and wheat.

Oh Jesus, do not forsake me

My brother in flesh, here comes my train:

Twisting steel and spitting sparks,

curving and coiling, digging

claws into the hide of the Earth.

In the garden we will meet, kiss, and sanctify the soil.

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"Eclipse plumage"

Like burling logs,

Words spin out of her mouth

at strange angles.

Cryptic myths to be read

only by the spectral glow

of a friar's lantern --

stars fallen to the earth.

I hover hummingbird patient,

Dying quick of interest.

Darting tongue gathering honey

While eternal spring

fades Double-quick.

My bones fill and

my wings fail.

I fall at her feet

for lack of a better dance.

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 "The cleaving"

In the first moment of momentum,

time escaped its crucible -

twin stars were divided

and fell from the grace of gravity.

They shed the skin of angels -

and the dreams of light.

Fleeting, was the memory of love.

In the final moment of momentum,

time will fall back on itself -

twin stars will be reunited

and forever, never, fall out of orbit.

They will shed the skin of earth,

and the dreams of life.

Fleeting, will be the memory of loneliness

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"Smoky mountain lullaby"

Half a life asleep

we have been

almost lovers

each in another

lover's arms.

I fear we may wake soon

from this  dream

and forget the names

for who we could have been.

So I have hidden

a box for he and she

that never became you and me.

It is buried deep

at the end of the moonbow,

guarded by fireflies,

flashing in unison,

masking the glowing

rhythm of that unborn heart.

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"Lodestone"

Blissful

Thunderbird riding

a dream

hurricane of smoke

from the fires

and songs

of hope

dropped my heart,

a sizzling meteorite,

charged with attraction.

So I am soul full

seeking to be empty

in this embrace.

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"Antediluvian"

The gates broke and I am drowning in the aftermath

It is cold and I am frightened

So this is what loneliness is.

Losing what you love the most.

So what is next?

How long can I float in this endless sea,

in my storming mind?

And I’ll be damned if the sun is not going down.

Ah – the north star.

I find direction

God winks and blinks

and I mark the moment

that the brightest of stars

is snuffed out between God’s fat fingers.

So here I am without land to kneel on,

returning as all life does, to the sea.

Waiting for a little light, a little love, and a large life-jacket.

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"Burn the garden"

In parting we dissolved

tears coursed from my eyes

I spread them on his cheeks

a blessing and a curse.

Tear every tree

up by the root ball

and set fire

to this Southern garden.

Feed our lungs

the smoke

the fire

the ash and soot.

Do not leave even a shadow

of the calm

of the cool

of our touch.

(also by Jennifer Phillips)

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"Promethean heat"

We escaped our bodies

by the Promethean heat

of our words,

and cheated time and space.

But now we fall back to Earth

and our clumsy flesh.

Whether it has soul shaking symmetry

or heart-beaten unevenness

the bloom of this day

will end,

as all must open and close

before the moon or sun.

No matter the path

whether we stumble or dance,

down or around,

we will get lost.

Out of the dark

of the cave

follow this trail

of loving words,

back to where we danced

before the fire.

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"Six years without you"

Dust is thick on my tongue

from the cool pine planks,

when I hide under my bed.

I kiss the floor with my ear

the earth is a chorus of cries

Which voice is yours?

I hold tight the glass slipper

This room is listing.

I am rocked to sleep.

You bloom in my dreamlight.

I search the dust for sand.

In the heat of my heart,

I will make new glass.

These slippers worn when

we were young, no longer fit.

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"Looking for grace"

I

After receiving their first communion,

the children kneel down –

little angels all in a row

Waiting for God

They squeeze their eyes shut

till the retinas dance,

sparking up divine fireworks

II

After the benediction of a poetry reading,

the audience gathers around the poet –

hungry angels, lost and cold,

huddle around his fire.

He does not blink,

afraid of his eyelids

and the apocalyptic vision.

III

After reading the note that you left in a book,

my knees were bent by the weight of love –

for a woman I barely know.

This note that lost its way

found a home in my heart.

I am afraid to shut my eyes –

Will I see you?

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"Alpha or Omega"

Caught in the amber light
of an accidental photograph-
her eyes are captured
dying suns.
The strange reflection
of her heart
to a stranger
surrenders a secret
retreat
or entreaty.
Yes?

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"Magicicada"

For 17 years they were silent

burrowed beneath their tree,

drinking from the roots and

carefully choosing their words.

Seventeen summer suns

slowly split their skin,

shaking the slumber from a

shared suspended song.

And now their love plants

dreams that scar,

singing and stinging softly

the bark with deep bites.

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"Window left open"

I woke alone to a bed

occupied with moonlight.

It was not the brightness

that penetrated my dreams,

but the quiet force pulsating

just a hair

out of synch

with my heart.

Neither wax,

nor wane

nor ghost.

Fully corporeal,

veins coursing

with yellow gravity

teasing me

like an ocean.

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"The fugue tree"

Waking from starless dreams,

in that infinitesimally small pause

 is an infinitely plump potential.

Why must I make plumb

body, time and place?

Lying in the shade

I am tempted by

a nameless fruit

to drink its strange wine,

be soul-drunk blind,

and set fire

the cathedral

of memory

that surrounds

my self.

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"The latchkey blues"

A house key suspended

on his steel bead necklace

bends the boy's head

to a stooped slow walk,

slouching towards bedlam

and the beast.

A repeated string of numbers,

careful choreographed walk,

no cracks and skipped primes.

The magic sum of prayers

to an abandoned god.

Ten yards off muscles tighten

and senses heighten.

He pauses on the porch

hand to handle-

on the door between

flight and fight,

father and sun,

safety and surrender.

Hail Mary full of grace

look at that boy's face,

why have you forsaken him?

The door opens

The door closes

Things fall apart.

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"Chiaroscuro"

The moon last night cast

the shadow of a sunflower

across my path.

A cool shimmering thing blazing,

dancing to the reel of a nightingale.

This remnant of gravity's weak

pull on my heart's rhythm,

fell me like a ghostly axe.

What would bloom from its seeds?

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"Duality"

The sight of
your hair strands
stranded over
your eyes
exceeds aortal
capacity,
unglues
the cellular,
releasing
the quanta.
My heart
finds
your heart
in a thrumming,
sacred,
chamber music
duality.

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"The winter tree"

The winter tree gives us just enough
hope for leaves
in the spring.
Six months of dark magic
pulling life up from the earth
Bury my dreams
bury my body
beneath the cyprus tree.

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"Echoes"

Each echo spills
out with loss
of the other,
stripped of shared
sights and sounds.
Memories torn
from last embrace
preparing for rebirth.

Each echo rebounds
with hunting
the familiarity of eyes
slipping into souls
lips onto lips-
time’s constant
drive to perfect
a kiss.

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"Asymmetry"

You tried to stop
my mad dive
into that icy February
lake on my dark
Sunday.
But the shiver,
bone clicking source,
was your blue
longing eyes
that I did not love.
So alive and alone
we trembled
in that embrace.

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"Wěn"

Of your
singular savour,
my mouth
dreams.
Lush lips-
tenderness between
devouring
sweet Nai Bai,
and fiery Baijiu.

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"Naan"

With a scythe of crow,
shadow sharp from heel to toe,
we harvest fields of moonlight.

The fat of dreams crackle and hiss
our tandoor is hungry for our bliss,
the bread of love is made tonight.

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"After swimming"

Dancing in the dark
wind near the banks
of the Santiam
a simple black dress
hanging tentatively
upon a limb
reminded me of desire
that can not be tamed.

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"The scent of her neck"

The scent of her neck-
a tea of dry flowers
now desire moistened
and demanding
the ransom be met-
deliverance of lips
drought dusted,
plunge, lick
and tasted deeply
as dark pools
beneath shade trees
of bodies bent
like a river.

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"Primal"

No sound,
movement,
a riot
of silence.
Love arrives.
Exactly.
At last.
When the poem
ends.

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"Reductio ad absurdum"

He pulls up anchor
to this dimension
and drifts
untethered but bound
to an unclaimed continent.

She dives
deep into the galactic
synaptic sea
separated
by potential
of wake and dream.

They have found
not the land of could
or should have been,
in this embracing
of soul and lips
and hips and scars.

This is a tale
that eats its snake,
Never odd or eveN.
He and she are cupids'
arrow in paradox*,
hearts moving impossibly
in a parallel rhythm.

*Reference to Zeno's Arrow Paradox and the Quantum Zeno effect.

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"Playtime with Papa"

Take this knife,
kill thy neighbour-
commands the father
or the father
gun get will
and kill
all
to feed
the nothing.
Think boy
fast, faster
distract
to distraction
sleight of hand
and twist of question
hide the edge
of lies
and hide
hidden fear
behind your back,
a smile in front,
and terrible
laughter between.

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"Souls asunder"

You left just a shadow
photograph of your hand.
It disappears in the sun
and haunts all night.
You point, and I,
your moon,
follow.

You steer me through the dark
seas and seasons
and I drift through the days
of aching,
starving for your touch.

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"Allegory of the campfire"

I have gathered
Spring
Summer
and Fall
scraps of love,
chewed them
and dried them
in the moonlight.

Darkness gathers around
our fired heart-
heated kindling.
Do not blink,
witness the release,
of reconstituted fiery angels.
These dancing ember dreamsmiths,
wheeling and whirling dervishes,
paint upon  the scrim of abyss-
naked shadowgraph lovers
who kiss the stars
and the universe goodnight.

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"Floating stars"

The moon has landed
on two lovers in the lake.
A familiar light
blanket covers to reveal,
floating stars kissing the night

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"We met"

We met in a flash of light
a moment stolen from the night
You and me - blinded in synchronicity
I can not see you,
You can not see me?

So we travel in the darkness of different roads -
searching for our 'selves', moving towards each other.
And our eyes adjust to the light of our moon.

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"The tenet of the heart"

Has wine turned to vinegar
on her tongue
slipping from a kiss?
UNFIXED.

The gamboge moon
suspends memories and casualties
from our love war.

Gravity has weakened
the ideal.
WOMAN.

In the lover’s paradox
emotion is nothing but an illusion
and the distance between soul stars
can never be bridged.

These shambolic objections
in our celestial play
confuse reality with truth.

Our calculus is measured
by the waiting
of two hearts
who must
BELIEVE.

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"Radiance"

We will succumb
to the bifurcation
along our beloved
Rubicon.
Eventually
one will escape
and the other will fall
at the Horizon--
as moon is torn from sun.
Till then
spinning,
treading,
unwavering,
in our tempest.

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"Viaticum"

Just my name.
Urgent and clear,
a sober plea-
pulled me out of the deep
into the past
out of time
into terror.

It was you now
afraid of the dark
edges pushing in
pushing out
sound.
Weightless,
void.

If I could now
I would now pull
the dusty curtain back
one last time.

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"Tastes electric"

Our tongues met
before our lips
spoke.
Our bodies familiar
to the pleasure
only strangers
can remember
in forgetting
convention.

And now adrift
from an afternoon
on the island of sun
and sensation.
An unexpected storm
punishes our boat and my body
rowing from the lightning licking
at your naked laughter
that smells of sex and smoke.

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"Boarding call"

I buried the blades
rowing East to West.
Creating closeness,
making distance.

Each natural wonder
forgot away
peace of you.
And in the thundering
plague of Montana crickets-
you were no more
than a hurricane
to a rowboat.

A great heart wind took me
Pacific North to South.
I hailed your ship
and pushed through the silent Aye
of the needle of the Golden City,
out to sea searching
for Elysium Isles.

Loves' mercurial compass
charts all fools an odyssey
and so I arrive at your port
moonburned and thirsty.

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"Pilgrimage"

The moon is the host
dipped in the blood
of the chalice
religio ad postremum
et finem Dei
and their lies,
the beginning of truth
full of dreams.

Amen, soul-sailor, amen
steer through the starry
toothed night-
swallow the orb,
commune with the sea,
slay the hurricane,
and unleash the answer.
As was in the beginning
is now and forever will be-
Love.

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"Balance spring"

The ebb and flow
of lunar dancing
in the secret garden
wound our clock
and wounded hearts
around and within
our circles entwined.

The balance spring
tore between hemispheres
half-loves and partial vows.
Your winter and my summer,
shadow and puppet-
not before sunrise.
not after sunset.
What was that promise that you made?
I’m
going
to…

All of her meter and couplet,
and his free verse could not let
the clockmaker re-pair
what hands out of phase kept apart.

Till time does cleave
the water and the wild
drown in calm waves
of bored contentment?

The stars and the moon
unwanted now?
Fickle tongue
tasting words
and flesh.
On what will the
soul feast
tomorrow?

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"Touch my eyes"

I find myself accelerating around corners

on the reckless edge of wanting

to feel

My mind has gone to seed - 

all cotton and dandelion fluff

Hand me the candle snuffer

Bleed my eyes

of all the lucid dreams

Twisting the arc

of time's arrow

into a dripping rainbow

Touch my eyes now - 

cover the burning land

or I will go where the rivers go

under the desert sand

Hold my hand.

from fragments by "Neon Veil" & Barrett Reid