brady max

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Thursday, February 17, 2011

Out There

No cell tower, or Wi-Fi

Or anyone stopping off just to say an inane hi

Nor vehicles, boats, planes, to drive, fly or drift by

No land-line or mail or others chatter or chitter

Crystal air nearly hurt-bright on retinas glitter

Two wide worn walking planks over a fast moving stream

Thick perfumed pines, filigree each singular sun and moon beam

Water ripples and flow falls into horizonless liquified gleam

As there at the end of all roads rises a pathway hidden and lush

As sensual as dew cheeked lovers' first touch and awe trembled blush

Blossoms in spring, diamond ice in the snow

Once there the knowing that there is nothing to know

In provision stocked cabin by the lake of Out There

Released all attachment, cleaned free at last of all care

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

The Brush of Winged Things

One morning the sun

will in drenched golden

rays rise to a bright

sparkling calm the air

perfumed in clarity as

the winged things

softly ride the current

of serenity dipping only

to brush the cheeks of

upturned faces burnished

with hope fulfilled

peace for all at last