While You Were Saying It

It’s bigger than a blue canyon,
that place my orphic words live
and come down from,


a canyon with one end anchored in eternity
and one end tipping into whatever
“-ality” … “-ernity” we dwell in
right here in River City.

I reach up and pull down Words
like apples golden or ripe peaches soft
fragrant and newly fuzzy insistent

and throw them into that canyon blue
blewsy runny and streaked in greys
and oranges (like rock sunsets)

Image result for a blue canyon

…but those words…

those words
those words
and become

as small in your eyes as they
are big in my head and
what was once limitless
is now merely living


and that makes me lonely
and feeling like

I got too close to important truth
too close to your secret hiraeth heart

buried in your soul’s backyard
like some long loved lost bone…
so you just look at me funny
and shoo me away with


blinking eyes and wagging head
as if not grasping what I said,
as if not seeing my words or me.

But do you not see me
and see yourself
in the seeing of me?

You almost cried
while you were saying it!


The Ship Inside My Head

There’s a ship inside my head
It sails upon the seas
that stretch, that roll out from my bed
to the far shore of me
sometimes that ship it runs aground
because the tide is out
and blind men, blind men think me drowned
and beached deep in their drought
I hope this was low tide.:
But tides, well they run deep and true
they go, and then return
with golden glad tidings of you
that splash my bow, my stern
And my sails bloom, are full once more
and dance upon the breeze
I slice thru waves, I dive, I soar
set free from my dis-easeae0f568f980256327127a3d52e0d549cTo sail and sail, to skim beneath
the moon there in Her bliss
and I wrapped safely in Her wreath
and sainted by Her kiss…
Daniel Merriam...: Ahhh…there’s a ship inside my head
I sail the ancient seas
of greens, and blues, and golden-red
I sail the seas of me
Waiting for the Tide - Print by Cathrine Campbell: