I am still alive

Mystical memories tremble this heart
imparting moments of will that once filled
me with impassioned zeal to live, to love.

I believed then, with near perfect certainty,
believed in the veracity of my hopes,
trusted in the capacity of this me
to be as good, as grand even
as my ambitions had painted me
in my own thoughts, long since faded.

But the memories are there still,
only greyed and frayed somewhat,
torn by the incessant tumult
within a soul that could never
quite be sure it even existed.

I know people who compose lists
that lyrically lead them from one bright aim
to the next, inspired by the very abundance
of their most meaningful dreams.

In the dark of the night alone
I carve my moribund dreams
into the very flesh that drips
over my dubious ill-intended soul.

Which is how I know
that I am still alive.

Dancing Coyote

I don’t believe I have taken the time to publicly promote John Coyote’s writing. His style is so wonderfully personal, anecdotes that convey such a strong, yet gentle feeling for the time and place and memories he shares. True, part of my delight in reading John’s works is how well he evokes in me memories of my time in Salinas, California, just inland from Monterey Bay–all the years I spent in Monterey and Carmel and Seaside, strolling along the beach, playing in Santa Cruz. But even if you’ve never been there, I urge you to read John’s writings. Here is just one beautiful piece from Dancing Coyote:

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/2572839/posts/3091373882

night and memories

night and the lights go out as
i wander through the rooms
and remember this space
but not just this one, oh no
my thoughts tend to roam
the halls of every home i
have ever known exploring
all the rooms where i have
ever slept sat supped viewing
each cheaply framed photo
that grayly indents every wall
my fingers tracing the spines
of every book on every shelf
my eyes stare out the windows
watching people passing by
dodging thousands of cars
in San Francisco and Salinas
in Fukuoka and Eskişehir
in İstanbul and even Çeşme
my tongue tastes once more
the pirozhki outside the park
the yaki niku down the street
the pide near the campus and
my ears can still hear them
all of them, all their voices
telling me of their gentle days
warning me to dress warmly
urging me to try again, just
try and while i long to affirm
their wishes and abide a while
i cannot but weep at this too
feeble heart, this rending flesh
and with a cracking voice
i lock the door behind me
and whisper into the dark
how very sorry i am for this
to each and every one of you
how sorry i am that i lack
the strength of you, i simply am
empty of your calm endurance
your ensuring affirmations
being only who i now am and
who i have surely ever been
please forgive me but i really
cannot do this anymore

Salt Lake City 25 Nov 2012

memories

when my thoughts of their own accord
as is so oft the path they do assume
to moments of you and me ascend
then so happy am I again to behold
the vast uninstructed beauty of you
intimately reveling in my eager touch

my lips my tongue fervent tasting
keenly craving your flowing warmth
my hands exploring tender the textures
of your flesh, sliding slowly seamlessly
across your hips your trembling legs
finding needily your welcoming breasts

these living memories inspire me
reviving vivid the once embittered
hopes of me clinging now so joyful
to every moment of you, every tone
of the voice of you that enchants me
passionately pursuing me back to life

Salt Lake City 10 Sep 2012