Category Archives: Elephants

We’ve Been to the Mountain”

“The Whale’s Eye”


“The Whale’s Eye”

The whale’s eye, the elephant, the gaze of tenderness in magnitude; schools
Of jack and halibut, determined unities in seas so deadly, so submerged,
The albatross so elevated that only vague inadequacies emerge
To name their realm—Jet Stream, Gulf Stream—moving trains in gravitas, spools
Payed out through skies and seas and threads
of all things lesser and greater in between.
Spied within the miniscule lens of a single spot,
The teeming millions merge as catalysts for the clot
And in an instant, a wondrous restoration, healing,
Growth, and reproduction or yes! a dissolution of all parts
Unto death, itself. A familiar spirit in an alien world will gaze in disbelief
Or then again in helplessness as ocean’s depths are strained, relief
No longer found in plunging to the deeps; restrained, their denizens depart
And reappear with regularity in the stratosphere
and while the megaliths”deeps declare
In silence all matters of the universe enthralled,
we as they in silence just stand or sit and stare.


…painting at top by Malstrummer of deviantArt…




Giants, quiet lichen nights illumine flights of condors
Heard perhaps but never seen; an avian genocide
Serves no master but in seasons; reasons’epochs’ fratricide,
Hidden hoards beneath the beaten earthen floor
Outlast disasters just as dusts applaud the doors
And orchestral pits the audience; splays and side
Exits greet no one but actors; bid adieu to suicides
In multiples whose protocols demand far more
Than this world holds. The elephants are still,
Circled, aware; behold their matriarch;
Jagannātha, when the bull’s in musth
Neither memories’ crown, nor wisdoms’ trust
Remain epiphanies further than the will
To outlive the rains, and nothing moves within the ark.



“We Might Have Had the Pleasure”

“We Might Have Had the Pleasure”

We might have had the pleasure had the time
Been right, and happenstance left us free
To choose a spot in which to plant a seed, perhaps a tree–
An eternity in a second chapter of a virgin field–or raise a kind
Of sacred dust while gathering pumice redolent of recognitions due,
Trusted as errata from the ancient books amongst
The monks’ and elephants’ litanies of growing sorrows
in a blighted land, and struck the bell or raised the trunk
To trumpet all that is the last hour, the last of majesties renewed;
These, remembrances of the whole, recreations stark
Against a wall of shrinking orisons charged to do
What they’ve always done. These, the memory of all that’s due
The earth, reunion of hosts in perennial remembrance of the Ark
Of their salvation. These, the gifts and treasures of the last great flood replaced,
Secured once more within Pandora’s jar, the behemoths’ sacred bones,
as tree rings, tablets stained, some broken, some  tattered but never erased.

“Did You Think…?”

“Did You Think…?”

Did you think it pays to read between the Holy Lines
That spoke with outward-bound and bonded particulars and austerity
In eloquence to which the gray-scale decibels of earthbound clarity
Speak volumes if only to the ears of dogs or elephants; defined
Somewhere between the womb and coffin, clearly signed
Within the matrix, nothing; to all else
exquisite in the melody of choice, metonymy
In fear, perhaps, but action put to wind chimes, pure and unrefined divinity
To souls of children and the penitent in prayer, yet the object undefined?
Within composts of saints and poets supernal senses  are recused, none refused, and far beyond, their Prophets,
Hounded and reviled within their own brief imprisoned span,
The single particle becomes the raging legion
in cycles newly framed in paradigms
So far from what was or seemed to be convenient both to litigants and followers,
All concave mirrors turned to Truth. Their attentions birth
as the premature in understanding puts the match

to kindling fires of corruption in the land.

Yes; even the word holds sway in beauty just as be and come and go as always in concert with all beauteous words seem to hold some affinity to one another that begs for more; it is the glory of affirmation; negation is its inverse holding fast to less as nothing seducing while it shuns to die as though to love is somehow related to a force of hatred amongst the other sovereignties  and prerogatives of antithesis, and, while integral to physical existence, are nevertheless peculiar to this world only and can draw no conclusion beyond the present natural illusions of form. Such fellowship is its own demise as is all that occurs in the material universe.

“The Midnight Hymn”

Friedrich Nietzsche
[ 1844 A.D. – 1910 A.D.]

Oh man!  Take heed!
What does the deep midnight say?
I slept!
I have awakened from a deep dream.

The world is deep.
And deeper than the day remembers.
Deep is its suffering.

Joy is deeper yet than heartache!

Suffering speaks:  Begone!

All joys want eternity,
Want deep, deep eternity.