Look Through Mine Eyes, O Brother
Look through mine eyes, O brother,
for they are yours
as I am yours.
Live through my life, O brother,
I live it for you
I give it to you –
the sunset and the questions
if you’ll have them.
If you’ll have me, O brother,
if you’ll keep me
close
and wild
and secret.
Breathe into mine, O brother,
breathe heart into heart
into air
into islands
of immovable love.
Go down to the rocky wash
where worlds become spaces
where chants come alive
and weave around you
in city street mantras singing
HO!
Where bread-bark bird-chips
tumble
from open containers
into open laughing air
and lines are drawn
in invisible ink
along your face
on long-mapped contours
and canals
of desperation and devotion
and devilspawn.
Crested (blue),
rested (few)
tested (anew),
a
wheezing warming world
coughs itself into caffeinated
semi-consciousness
semilight, semidark,
nut top brown sugar
beat breasted,
manifested,
for you and by you
and for whom?
And for whence?
And foregone,
all hope of conclusion
and all desire for it.
And lovelost,
all aspiration to become
other than you are.
And tired loosened
slackjaw mornings
just ain’t what they used to be
and would you want that anyway my
dear dear brother
and wildman
and crow
and blackfoot
and forest whisk
and snowbleat
and farmhand
and father sun of all?
O Sing the One I like
my brother
in high E,
in arrival register,
in arrested ecstasis
upon the pouring steps
of reverie
of rebellion
of remedy to heartborne ills.
Melodious antidote,
ceremonious,
persimmon,
simonious,
and peter
my
dear dear
brothers
in the garden
with him
now
and always
and forever.
Night garden!
Praying morning
all open and
blest
and free!
A pure and perfect dawn.
A passing thought,
and over heads
the dancing birds.
Priestly gaze upon me
within me and all and sundry,
in satellite sunbeams
and metal bracing huffsters
and the chic
and sweetly laid tables
of your heart,
my love,
my king,
my fierce and fearsome
kin.
And overhead?
The dancing.
The birds and the dancing
and the pure and perfect dawn.
If you will dream of me, O brother,
I will be singing
in the sunlight
on a Chicago street corner
lost and alone
and free in the crystal ocean
of unexcelled
inexhaustible
and most ineffably excellent
friendship.
The whole of the path!
The path of the whole!
Our criminal currency of outrageous
and unreasonable abundance!
Joy of joys!
Grief of griefs!
Land of lyrical luminaries
we walk together,
green and glistening.
O mine O pilgrim
O hers O yours
O this
O these
cracked and ringing feet
bells of heaven
touching earth
touching life
touching truth.
Keep dreaming
my brother
and I’ll meet you on the subway
and it will all be impossibly simple,
deliciously easy
once again.
