Low Screams Unheard

 Low screams unheard
They never listen to our voice
Low screams unheard
They never let us have a choice
They'll hear us when we stone their ears.
Low screams unheard
When will they see our tears?
A voice they won't allow to hear
What do they have from us to fear?
Low screams unheard
The best we cannot surface
It cannot be allowed in any case.
It cannot be allowed to change this place
It cannot be allowed to join the race.
Low screams unheard
How do we terrify you so?
Our ideas, our thoughts, the things we know?
Do you fear the truth that we show?
Low screams unheard
What life will people know?
Your fear is all we see
Low screams unheard
Despite you all we will succeed
And you will be the one to beg and plead
And then we will be heard.

Autumn Dream

 An Autumn, warm and beautiful.
The colors, right and bright
Warm and wonderful. A cool breeze
From the north renders the day a joy.
I lay down in the yellowing grass, enjoyed
Autumn's company. The leaves rustled.
The birds sang. The clouds migrated
To warmer climes. A flock of geese,
Their honks filling the air, chased them there.
Her sweet caressing warmth filled me--
I closed my eyes to listen. I looked
Up at the sky. Familiar shapes were born
And disappear. Bright, beautiful, colorful
Wonderful, warm. I stood. Colors
Exploded in the field. Flowers
Bloomed, birds continued singing, waves
Rippled across the field. I felt pulled
Back into the grass. I lay among the grasses,
Took a deep breath. My eyes slowly shut.
I slept in Autumn's comforting embrace.

Enfolding Time

You will be reading this poem on time.
You are now reading this poem on time.
You have been reading this poem on time.
My reversal has placed things in order
Where we now question where lies the border
Where inside and outside are disorder.
Time occurs in endless repetition.
Time will never give us repetition.
Time circles linear repetition.
When will time rise into eternity?
When time rises into eternity,
Then time rises up to eternity.
More complex things are made through time's passage.
More complex folds are made in time's passage.
More complex folds make time's complex passage.
Changing time changes as changing space-time.
Folding folds folding in changing space-time.
Folding change changes in folding space-time.
Eternal return of the similar--
To know where you are, know once where you were--
Time's tasting of wine and smelling of myrrh.
Time is a rover that's flowing along,
A snake shedding skin and a lyre song,
A line and a spiral getting along.
Inside and outside are in disorder
Where we question the length of the border
As my reversal space things in order:
You have been reading this poem on time--
You are now reading this poem on time--
You will be reading this poem on time--

Omen

Lonely, lovely Japanese girl
Gliding slowly, gently across the kabuki stage--
She stops and stares at the audience, tense,
Her golden necklace seeming to float
Around a neck as green as the backdrop, gold
As gold as the golden lines around her face--
A startled action. And yet, she tries
To remain calm, alone upon the stage.
She hides her face under a pure white mask--
Her red and green and golden hair is stringy,
Flailing from the sides--her makeup makes a part
In her flattened hair on top--her severe
Part and flattened head of hair
A mask for us as well.
Red lips, green eyebrows, red edges
Surrounding lovely dark green eyes--

But can a Japanese girl have green eyes?--
The look upon her face is one of dull surprise--
And on her face the makeup dries,
The mask hides from all of her her truth and lies--
How will she fall, how will she rise?--
Yet, no matter however hard she tries
All we can hear from those scarlet lips are sighs--

Where is the lover she laments for on the stage?
Will he come before she gives up and dies?

Woven

A pair of masks are separated, red
And oddly rootless ti plants grow between
The eggshell blue and red masked faces, lined
In blue and in maroon--this chiasma
Of peering Asian and worried Aztec,
Deep bags under its straight, stern eyes--a mask,
A face? What is each mask trying to say?
When Asia comes to America--Self
And Other of any kind make a mask
They present, hiding who we are--who are
We to anyone? Our loves or our friends?
Is this why one face is stern and angry
And the other pouting in the corner?
How orange are your feelings, red and blue masks?
Grasp the rootless ti plant sprouting between.