Summerland Secrets

The tongue that hangs from mouth has stars to catch in mind,
stars to catch in mind.
Scalene muscles will stretch and screech at she who does not sleep
and the homeless man who pushes cart through dark in an alley black will pause
the denigration of dirty curbs the dreams drowned, obliterated beneath traffic
lights.

With stars to catch in mind heaven bends to mouth, stars to catch,
stars to catch in mind.
In dimension far away is a beat
of spirits who do not sleep
because they are called to a higher purpose;
attending to those whose hopes have fallen
it’s their reason -- angel, muse to light the artist, lift the oppressed.

Life does not stop. Churning! Churning! Churning!
We reach by string to Summerland where are thirsts are quenched
or we fall between meaning’s cracks landing alongside the done lain in rows.

But eternal rest does not come, nor horror come in death;
spirit extends. Constellations swirl on
in here after: flourish dreams
and whoever with paint brushes stars will find that these live on
and whoever is in need of relief will find it in waiting arms.

Some day
chickens will peck down their designs
and wounded deer
will thrust himself onto broken knees and find last shelter in the hand of one.

Another day
we will hear our unplayed opus soar with the stars
and, "leave the body like a school boy bounding through school door quickly with
joy."
We will watch our cares freed understand peace that passeth.
Churning! It’s churning! It’s churning!
The men who now have mind of the hacked and the monkey,
and that clown who laughs because she has only lost in the loosening of her tears
or that great wit who imagines soon a bit of luck and a hit
streams will carry them to the field where the dreamers and the dreamed are teeming.
There the cat’s lives are teeming.
There resonant notes of a muse are teeming
and the wings of each fairy ring like bells with each tinkling glad refrain,
with stars to catch in mind the tongue hangs from mouth, stars to catch,
stars to catch in mind.
If someone does numb their soul,
a spark, sprite, a spark.
May there be a foot bridge to roused sight
and whispered tales on wind.
With stars to catch in mind the tongue hangs from mouth, stars to catch,
I will sing evermore with stars to catch in mind we are one.


But if someone’s tongue should return to mouth closing portal to sky,
peel the blue curtain so she can bask in the beyond:
the spinning shadows, and the unhinged, and the balm of Gilead.



Inspired by: City that Does Not Sleep
by Federico Garcia Lorca