Johnny Weir

(photo:  Wikipedia)

Johnny Weir

Your blades cut me slice my

Aesthetic transforming motion into

Image spinning gliding making arcs

As your hands spread fingers of feeling

Into my heart

You reach in gestures of pure grace

Gliding like a heron in ecstasy

Over the ice  black Gothic shape  over the 

White ground

Passion coming to rest on your knee

You are Nijinsky

You are abandon eroticism joy

Smiling through tears as you 

Leap through all the space between us

A Leap of faith in your own being

Through dance through skating

Your figure becomes the metaphysics

Of desire a form of love

Transcending  time  space and body

A Rhythm of Olympian power

Jack Miller 2-14-10

_________________

Red-tailed Hawk in the Rain

Red-tailed Hawk
from Wikipedia

This day is drowned

Such quantities of rain have

Beat down on my tin roof

My soul is waterlogged

On the bare veins the limbs

Of a young winter oak clutches

A red-tailed hawk undaunted by

Such quantities of rain

The hawk surveys my yard

Flaps enormous brown wings

Away soundless but for the beat of

Such quantities of rain

Such quantities of rain have formed

Rivers of dream-soaked memory

Taking me in flow to my youth

To gullies and mud-pies of nostalgia

--Jack 2/4/'10

A Week of Roses

A Week of Roses

For a full week the yellow roses opened

Now as you fly to the Pacific the roses

Begin to sag to show you are gone

That the cold cold January week is done

That I am here in our spacious home

Without you

Our time of transition these delicate flowers

Our house full of treasured art sacred crafts

Has no destiny no one on whom we can bestow

Gifts that help us free ourselves to fly 

As you are flying now to a distant Island

Together

The patterned Acoma pot the blue crystal bowl
Seven Buddhas await our choice of 
What to hold onto what to let go

For letting go is what we must do to reach our new life

Away from the stress of this Southern city iced

Away from the meaningless routines of the past

To a new harmony

Near to the sea you and I shall find our  garden

Where the yellow pink-tipped roses of our love 

Will bloom will thrive

 Yellow Rose photos by Jack for Dar

January 30, 2010

Ode to a Pataphor

Chess piece from

Wikipedia

Ode to a Pataphor

You are as sweet as petits fours

Melting in the mouth
What better way to say

What cannot be said than

To Taste the imagined chaos

You Serve up

Knight takes bishop

So much for horsing around

Now out of the horse's mouth

A song sweet as a lullaby

To lull away the boardum  of

Pawn spawn

--Jack, 1/6/10

Petits Fours
Wikipedia

Blue Moon

Hear the sound of coquis: (click)

photo courtesy of wildhorizons.com

Blue Moon

How cold it is Deep South

Where I miss you on your

Big Island paradise

Under the Blue Moon of

New Years Eve

Last occurring
Nineteen years ago as it shone on

Our first deep kiss

Alone blanketed I dream of

A Wolf at the screen door

Stairs that won't go up to you

I awake

And dream of your return to me

Your coqui frog crying out 

All night

All night

--Jack, 1/1/10
For Dar 

Fog

 Fog

The winter fog in Georgia is

Nothing like the fog of San Francisco

Georgia fog is still quiet

Bare mildewed limbs of oak

Entangled becoming disembodied

The dank mist distorting our vision our

Thought

The Pacific fog is all motion soaring over

Hills swift caressing the peaks

Giving moisture to the thirsty ground cover

Uplifting unlike the mist that consumes settles

Depresses us into a cold

Lethargy here in the Old

South

 

Solstice Collage

 Solstice Collage

December  gathers our anticipation

Watching rain turn frozen precipitation

Our winter city on the edge of ice

You invited  me to see today

Your veins your visions organic gay decay  

Icons enameled old book covers twice

Presented in living details of creation

Your wry cold eye your bold display

Images creatures entities that entice

There was nothing I could say

As I admired your art drank your warm libation

Swallowed and savored hoping that would suffice

Jack (for Richard) 12/12/9

Slope of Kīlauea

Kilauea from the air

My photograph

Slope of Kilauea

Confused doves fly into white walls

My complex condo living

Snow mist in the air

Sun cold

Like a character in Murakami's

Wind- up Bird Chronicle I

Pass through the wall of my well of

Debt and discontent

Soar  as I shall to the slopes of Kilauea

Spewing*

What better for a poet to do

Spew words as imagination grows into

Reality

Where my lover sleeps there on the

Slope of Kilauea

Hot with lava

Flowing like a song into the

Pacific

--Jack 12/5/9

* Kilauea is Hawaiian for spewing.

The Lips of Jimi Hendrix

The Lips of Jimi Hendrix

My time is up

Up

Soon enough the passions of my

My my Generation will be gone

Who will know who feel

The sunshine acid

Tab 

That was our experience

We are experienced our

Songs

I have to say are

Beyond up

Into a higher awareness

Lost  in the cyberspace all inhabit

Here now

For us the walls fell

Gender race orientation age

Dissolved in the haze of our eye
Our pupils dilated as

We kissed the sky

Jack 12/4/9

Hearing Ear Ring

Hearing Ear Ring

It (Tinnitus) never ceases
Singing my inner ear electric
Like the creases
In my long
Ear lobes deep as the lobes of my
Brain
The siren hum inane
More synapse buzz than ring
As if my brain all wired up
Floated in a genome jar
And all the illusory world beyond
My ear
Maya moon rising
Maya sun setting
Ultimate unreality
Were You
Your dialectic song
Jarring me with delightenment

-Jack 11-22-09

Tub and Torch

Diogenes by Gerome

from Wikipedia

Tub and Torch


He is honesty
Squatting naked in a tub
Haunting the streets of Athens
Clutching his torch
Seeking anyone
Who speaks the truth
Diogenes is no fool
He knows full well
The mirror yields no truth
Nor Alexander's shadow
Nor his black steed
Blocking the Sun's reason
Diogenes' dry tub
His hot torch
Reveal the emptiness of
Dogma


Jack, 11-20-'09 and 12-31-17

Whirling Dervish

 Grand Bazaar-
with Dar

 Kapali Çarsi

(photo by Jack)

Whirling Dervish

We could not resist the Persian

Boy his black Boss socks in hand

Tight at the edge of the bustling

Grand Bazaar of Istanbul

We bought from him five pairs

We had with us the fragrance of morning

Gardens rooms of jewels of the sublime

Hagia Sophia gold mosaics the perfection of the

Dome of the Blue Mosque none more exotic

Than this boy's eyes

How could I not notice your

Eye on him not imagine you

There on the Persian prayer rug

Tasting with him Pistachios

From our Whirling Dervish bowl

--Jack 10/30/'09

Sonnet to Leander

Photo of the painting from Wikimedia:

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Theodor_von_Holst_Hero_and_Leander.jpg


Leander
 

You are the swimmer drowning in sweet love 
Women carry to the tower your torch

Bearded men seek out your white innocence
Pale as the blessed shoulder of Pelops
Your moisture is the elixir they desire
The sight of your bold dive sets them on fire
With your eye looking toward the tower
Where Bright Hero in anticipation

Awaits the naked hour of your embrace

You feel another's touch upon your flesh
You let his wanton wave wash over you

You sink into a swoon beneath the sea
Who would climb the steep steps of mortal love

Who has felt the warm wet caress of god

Jack 10/24/'09 

Mishima

Pantheon

my photograph














Mishima

Who was it heard who understood

Within the harmonies of Mishima

By Philip Glass were the melodies of

Erik Satie

Piano and string quartet

Transport me to enticing Maya Sabha

Memory

Madeleines of Proust sweet and bitter

Every sunbeam moment through the
Window 
Holds potential for another note a

Sound to rend the heart

Joy in the encounter of a new soul in the 

Pantheon where enters such a column of light

Raphael rises from his rest

Hadrian embraces Antinoos

How is it on this cold sun filled day

How is it there is music in my long lived life

How is it in this period of adjustment

That the strike of a piano

Key
The soft friction of a violin
Are fine Sebastian's arrows

Mishima's ecstatic sword entering my flesh

Jack-- 10/18/'09

Silence

In Eclipse

It was when I met her
Your grandmother
That I knew you loved me
For you were as proud of me
As she of you


It was a simple day in Tennessee
A cookout for family
Yet I knew this was no
Ordinary gathering
It was your declaration


Now twenty years on
Your grandmother gone
You make no declaration at all
There is only
Absence

Once more I see the tide go out
Watch the full moon wane
Our lunar cycles spin in vain
Yet Zones of Totality dark as night
Must yield the sun again


--Jack Miller,  fall '09

wolf

Image from Wikipedia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:GermanWoodcut1722.jpg

  

Wolf

Another full moon

You are out gone

Into the deep night

Flesh hunting

You would not devour

Me

I am not your prey tonight

Fresh blood

You desire under the full

Moon

While I slumber in a nightmare

Full of my werewolf

Love and Death

Death and Love

There are two questions in

Life

How to achieve lasting love

And how to die

All else is myriad pink 

blooms

On one camellia bush

The rest is approaching thunder

Deepening damp a
Breeze

All actions from the meditation of

Bodhisattvas

Rantings from Libya

Chattering of talk show hosts

Sipping champagne

Downing Irish ale

To slipping naked into a lake at

Night

Are questions of love and death

As surely as green grass needs rain

Apricot Jam

Apricot Jam

My day began with cheese toast and

Apricot jam

Sitting on the screen porch

Our porch for eighteen years

I warmed my throat with French-pressed

Coffee

It was the fourth or fifth or sixth day of

Rain rain like never before here

Cool like the cure for melancholy

The Times had a long magazine article on

Jung

That now a dozen hours later I grow eager to

Read to take to bed our bed

To read as I let you go

San Francisco

Let you go as the ambien lets go my
Brain 

As solitude merges with dream


Jack 9/20/09

A Way

A Way

Recall our afternoon
Nashville
Napping abed
An embrace kisses
As we confess stress
Loss of temper we take out
On each other

In separate cities
We suffer still
Outburst hurt feeling
Resentment
Yet keep the
Awe
Twenty years of
Bare bones love
Inspires.

For Darryl, September 2009

Starr's Porch

Starr's Porch

There is plenitude on your screen porch
Where the doves from Mexico sit 
As the wind chimes deep intone 
The smile of your Buddha

The tweet of small birds in your yard

While you are away tuning your car

Bubbles of Buddha effervesce
From my champagne
As the smell of your terriers

And the fly buzzing from screen to screen

And the yap yap of your rusty ceiling fan 
Make me laugh

You and your porch are

Pure plum happiness.

Jack-- Sept. 2009