turn into life


of you and me 

of this sun and i 

as a lonesome child

i roam through

your sky

you've taught me


as of a turning gap

in eternity

and of these sounds

my breathing

roaming loud 

i've learned from being



look up my child and


each sun is a star

as each star  is but

            a thought in

            your eye

see      that you might live

not to die

but to fly

carried by the

winds of freedom

the shaping clouds

that are one’s only

turn into







to see, in movement,

to become


somewhere does seem this

flame to be

a‑burning from

as of future callings

in a burning

presence of waiting


for that, i shall be

for of that am

waiting for a word that am i to be

a giver of life to bare into knowing a one of few

the moment in

stilled presence

of truth 


i have heard her

eyes that they are

seeing through

without full



can it that in a

sight i'm to be

is she

a sharing,

            and birth...


that am i to be born

            and of but myself


of man’s time



where ends my waiting

and begins my

step into the present


i have felt these thoughts


of now i feel near

a time

a called moment


shall come my death

so shall also

that i will be

born into eternity

into a seeing life

a lone drifting soul



a touching, touched

a knowing born

or ...


these paths to be seen

to be passed

that i may be whole


its light's dim

and i yet but sense

of this gap in time which

awaits my movement


yet my words ,           are but

            letters lost


                                    - jude  







of her child and she


she rose to stand atop

her scream

as it pierced through time

"and leave me be,

as i am free"


this child lost in her colors

and breathing of life

ventured upon a day to greet

            a pale world

and unaware ,

            she painted her

living bright, across

            their skies


as she shared her touch

her deep innocent eyes

that is she

saw but what she dreamed

could be

and through her

blindness she thought to see

into life she bore a


lying near she silently breathed

for time was still waiting

and past the mating

would he come

giving his breath

through a hard painting of soft colors

that may her child

learn of a sun‑word


and she waited ,

catching her child’s

tears, and she waited


a woman is born

            for her child asked to see

to breathe                  of love,

            to be

and so this mother called

            by the love

began to sense.


she sat alone, knowing

strength from

only of her skin

as, viewing the colors

of only her reflection

and touched onto

her child’s  lips

her breath

drawing inward through a

now screaming pain

she met her life, and

commanded in lone

words  that

the child shall taste


as be brought into the

knowing, of

life  breath


and so this wooden toy

            was given into flesh


but they push ,

and scratch through their

screaming sands  that their game


that she must return

but she has seen that

colored breath can reflect



she cried, for

her paintings were streaked

in the color of blood

and this is their realization

to the love she bore of



that she is free

and she met

a woman,

who turned out to be



breathes the child from

within her arms

and to realize she does


steal my flesh,

but this, my child

shall be

"we have found flowers

in growing, upon

a distant tree,

and only then shall you find me"


and so echoes the

scream from the womb

of man

and into life steals

another birth

another life for they

to slay


            but      she shall never die

                        this woman has

                        found birth!

and she'll fight to breathe

for now she must


                                    - jude  





lone burn on a lone skin



oh  my lone reaching


you have given into my dreams

a light

lit for seeing


carried for the being

a being in eternity

shall see its own

reflection in a glimpse

of passing 

through you




            i want to feel

that what i see

may be real

and i reach

yet,i am burned

a lone burn on a lone skin


                                    - jude    




a waiting, reality ; ,?


as i have caught a touching

of the you,

            in a passing

a sight out into your distance,

present in its being

as its sound skips through


and, as i have waited till my mere glimpses,

become images whole in their form,

so do the children

dry their tears,

and hide their eyes,

so do the children

hide their fears,

and concede to their sighs,


                        they are waving



i have come to say

            hello ...

i have met your presence

            in my past,

and have heard the future,


cape untied,

through color


            across the veins

            of my palms

are written, the yet to come

time emotions 

the over‑spilling

of your whole ;

and in a taste,

ah! i have sensed

the inching of life

across time’s



across the sand, upon the path

my finger draws, a thought ‑

a waiting reality ... life­

            " hello ‑ in that you are here reading,

            so are you, here!”


- jude  





no giving and nothing to take,


it is so well into christmas

as soon comes the day,

and in the dreams of thoughts


so do the children play.


i'm tired, alone

i've lost the urge to lie

as at least with them

i must pass away

refuse this day,


to share, can you remember

of that care,

there is no giving and nothing

to take

in the realm of

christmas time,

to touch hand upon hand

and share smile in smile

there can be only

one ending mile,

but where is the chime.


i remember a song

i remember a plea,

what did she need,

to skate away, from

this over colored, day

what has become

of the sun falling

in shaped crystals of



i'm alone,       so will be

            it upon this night,


it's a celebration, this day

and i can't run away!,

and so, i'll stay

i meet christmas on my hand,

and as i stand, so will

reflect my mirror

image,          of one,

and tobabily

of one...

            - jude  








and again; to meet her , on a windy day . . .


and yes,

i met her on a

windy day,

in speaking to her

as she to i

there came a cry!

"i am out, but to play,

won't you, catch a


and stay?..."

so,       i grabbed her hand

as i was under wind command

            that together,

                        we painted and

shaped, a passing cloud

into a picture,

unknown to the years of time


and as that cloud continued

its passing

we smiled

and yes,

i left her on a

windy day ,

or so was a thought 

that i could see,


and time blinked,

            and i came to


we had not gone away

            but were merely

            caught by a cloud’s


but now,

she was asking not to


so i drew closer,

            i drew away

to become,   and into the

                        sounds she spoke

            with blocks, i watched

            as she attempted to

            reinstate time

                        and she built

                        until she could

                        no longer find

                        her tempted direction,

toppling her blocks

            i held her hand

to speak,

            "come, it is again

            time to play,"

though she couldn't say?


she danced!


too quickly,

grew her body


slumping, she fell into sleep

to dream, of times


yet un-cold,


and she woke,   to me

            wanting to see,


and on a still day,

she came to say,

join me, won't you

"i want to play"

and i watched as she,

returned her hand

to herself, untouched!

to take her hand and


"first we must find

the day, and see

before we are allowed,

times air

to play."

i felt a windy day,

and knew i couldn't


and with such of a play

that i wanted to say

i had to leave

for she couldn't see,

perceive...      my day.

and yes,

            i met her on a

            windy day,


such a pretty lady

            in pretty eyes


            she's wandering slowly

            she's wondering wise.

in building color castles

for her child,

            so comes a smile,

and once again begins a whisper

            begins the wind,


and again,

            to meet her on a

            windy day ...


                                    - jude




paper man


paper man



and drawn


fiddle yourself about

as within my



once again


i am a star‑time‑dancer

writing melodies

the chimes of light


and being      the hero

of myself . . .


                      - jude   






yet together


and she has no reason

to listen to their

            sounding chimes

they say it is christmas

            they pour their wine

in drinking    these separate


so drunk they stumble

out through the day,

they're smiling

 yet hold no words

to title their play,

for across the floor lies the

broken glass   thought to

lie raised across

all their lips.


that she stands in command

            of         a lone

            wandering smile

and for no reason

            she gathered the

pieces of a fallen cup

reshaping it into a glass

            for wine

            not trying to find

            walking off the line

            she drinks with

her      child


and of

her only christmas

she has found

            playing lonely in

            the sand

            an only touching


and in sharing

so        finds the world

                        of her smile

and that none will see

            and free

to be  to be touching

            she is her child

            as her child is she


and on christmas day


they are born alone

yet  together...


                        - jude   




to the movement


and     as tobobly and


do ride this wind together

we whisper 

our timeless

welcomes to the

movement of the new year


a new year past


and she looks

into the eyes of


child she.

to see

color come

and into light

color gone

out through blackness

she whispers

her tired

living  thoughts

into those free eyed



come tobobly

you are to be

given birth 

see yourself

 as her hands caress your

            time drenched


feel as she colors

you in to a present


and speak softly 

as she rests her tears

upon your

wide knowing



as she looks  


            through your eyes,

she will see

            time is present


as the time

which is here.


she holds

            a child’s breath

            but to warm her breasts

                        as she walks

of that warmth

            being of a smile

            that is

                        a sharing in


she hears the pain

slapping its tears through


            rapping softly within

            the heart of



and     before time    timeless

            she enters     this

            new year




                                                - jude   







a tiny , sky dancer


and yes she is

a tiny sky‑dancer

of the clouds



and to the tune

she     dances her


through the air



oh! come, my tiny


"and so spoke the earth

to the sky"

take my hand and

            i will cover you


to free you from the fear

of a blocked empty



and there she lied

beyond day 

as before night




and where will she turn

our sky child

does she fear the night

can she dance without

            light ?


there in the darkness

            do we hear

where of the silence

is that fear

that tiny dance

is only sand

yet in a silence

we only can hear

dancing tiny dances


within the day

what holds a sky‑dancer

in her sway ...


and if i wondered but

at a loss

that i've heard her

            and it is night

            where is her dancing

            star filled light?


then suddenly, from there

in the black

i met a sound in

            coming back


a tiny sky‑dancer

could be heard

listen time

a wind is stirred


and through the dark

            but came a light

sailing            she     as if a kite

then in a tint, the

sky turned blue

danced    a sky‑dancer

returning day 

anew ...


 - jude   







wondering at past scenes


and here i sit  just to

wonder  at past


of funny plays as deeply painted dreams


but what is this 

i feel

is the air but ever real

that its passing


and abou,


it is so 

that i would like

to know

in from those shades 

can they ever grow


yet  this  i really

must say

again, it seems the time is

that i drift away


to the where that

            i           go

well                 can we ever know

yet is of its matter 

for where is there

beyond here

and as you grow

closer, do

ever you come



it's a sound of time

a drifting

of movement 

he's calling my


there are but seconds in which

to say good‑by

            hello, ...

to catch all, those

lost sights   for it


our last glimpse

as reality is but 

seconds away 


and we are gone


go along and

            join yourself

touching sky

            learning why

reaching for the nowhere

            and walking alone


and there is  no reason

            and yet

you've grown

as you've touched


you're free...


        - jude  






but me...


and not i

not you

but we


no, we are not

of them

for they are not

of us,


but we

and so of my


of their

never  to be


but me...





the absence of a hello


i'd say good‑bye,

            but tomorrow

            has already come


and i sit alone

i wonder

why must it

always be tomorrow?


where has gone to ...



what should be said

and they forget to say



and when i am born,

            they see me dead

and when i'm dead,

            they see my birth


so where are we

we're not


and the lie

they're wanting not

to say good‑bye

the tie,

they never


the absence

of a hello


              - jude  



love song , between two foreigners , in a foreign land


and strangers we must


for this is the

land of birds

            un-whole       caged

of         productions

poorly staged



we have slipped our words

out between the cries 

of barred‑out


and back through

a returning    a distant


will only  we


that we

have sat

alone   together


we are leaders

of our own separate


praying never to each our



yet lost    between

            their day phrases


reaching out i have

heard my smiles

crying to smile

and in reaching out

            i touch


in their game

i have been told

to run

to demand, a giving


but i turn

and away a refusal of



a dismissal of

their lifeless  time ...

for as we stand

            we are without


            without time

belonging never together


belonging never apart


so between the

spaces of their

dust covered


where             were we born

where we must

gasp for air

we wait ‑‑‑‑‑ to turn


and in the freedom

of my aloneness

i can ask not

as the wind is its only



to turn

into hello

into good‑by


yes we are not

to be children of time

but  godless

            subjects and

                        to ourselves

to share our bodies


and to leave our



to lie only within

their realm of

            us  non‑existence


to be free       she & me

here only shall

we find to see

that which we are

if we’re to be


to touch

to share...

            be it hello

be it good‑bye

only to share an equal word

   -     -     -

only to be


                      - jude   



alive . . . dream ; reality!


that she awaits a piece

of sky

as though promised once

to her

from a time of birth


standing naked


a lonely hill

            before a free


does this lady

hear the beating

of her

own heart

does she stare

into time

that she may see


and through onto

the reflection

of she             alone and naked

            within her own

                        eyes ...


through a glimpse

 to her


her body

to speak of a life

breathing through

a waiting of air

and when i did stare

            from upon

            my colored cloud

i saw he, as

dream time


as an eagle   she crosses

the sky

with each movement

as a reflection of



and to turn which


 i may

there i was


for within my

eyes    lied  alive,

her reflection

composing life

            upon the


and with the


upon her hands

she smiled

her just offering

before the sun

to her  awaiting



                        - jude  



but, that i hear!


but      i keep feeling

those dreams

i had once heard 

and thought of

as real

and i   keep

finding your

breathing warmth

standing near


thinking of waves

i meet the wind as we clash


the sea

on an earth tied sky

of movement

and i can hear

my own breath

breathing strong 

as i travel

holding reign over


all movement

as i sense

the sound of



and am i reflected


i speak with


from across separate


and i gaze

down into her

self   through her eyes

to see a whole

universe deeply

set about stars

backed by an eternal


and there beyond

i do almost

glimpse a sight of myself



 through that sight

i am of warmth


eternal and real


the lie once


as a personal fantasy

leading nowhere

past my skin

through my body



            against the sun


and why still

            do i listen

i crave a universe

            to swallow

to swallow me


i have heard the

waves as i hear the


that i must

search the shore

for a craft

that might carry



because i hear

because she might


that our friction

            might create


in this vacuum

given to us

as life.


            - jude   



that all breath is movement !


in the there of somewhere

            and nowhere time

so does rest 

upon the hill a castle

as upon

the castle a hill

and do the doors

            who wait

to be               only

            between the

coming of night

            and     the

going of day

            lie        between


as sand without sand

            silently so

stares this castle

at a closed door

to within

to without

circled  walls

            in a circle

            about a circle

enclosing a circle

            about a silent



and as wandering of

an all‑breath of


she stares  from an only


to a thought‑sun

 through an evening

beyond a day

into the flame 

of fire eternal

of she

and to see

as who  these sands

are as

they dance their distant



a sun‑king does see

her body’s eyes

a sun‑king she

may never touch

there within those

shadows of light

does stand her reflection

lost to the deep of

color blackness

 with her image

coming last

between all the burning

            colors of deep


that she heard within

a touching of flame

            one can only meet


            laughing that

god     of her reflection

keeps painting his flaming

            red‑blue words

between her and

her sun reflection

he knows her fear of

                        a darkness


and he paints it dark

this her light‑reflection


does she dare to move

beyond her stare

and into that castle’s

center  flame

that she may move

freely in or


of her tower  kingdom

that is his skin


might she turn

and meet herself

past his forming words

            that she might

            meet the air

to listen to breathe

a filling air a sky


            a kingdom of only

            she  waiting beyond


that she might see


birds of wind

with outstretched wings

who are of all‑sands

touching the sun

lying untouched it is

their sun

her sun


will      she turn

                        is her castle a

flowering in the air

            with it’s form in

            only she

still she stands unaware

            before her natural


            in her castle a

flowering upon their ground

as she

as they

            her sky . . .

            their earth

torn and so worn

she wraps tightly for


her arms about

herself not to move

and may a burning


pass her by

and yet i t is the earth

on which she stands which commands


in a thought‑dream,

i saw her screaming

in a thought‑dream

i saw her dancing

pain  steps

 alone  in the walls

of her fingers

safe and mating

with her sin

no longer theirs


below can no more

their sun play

its games of

hiding reflections


in their eyes so dies

her reflection

drawn falsely in

hate lines

of color

in her eyes so is born

her reflection

drawn real in


of color


that all breath

is movement 

even without motion ...


                                    - jude  






in the where, of here!


in pictures on the wall        

dance those strange

little men

no longer

as my body stares

and no silly grins

            do return to me

            as i see

            what must be

and                 my

            unwilling reflection


a child so young

i have met

stirs and breaks out

a frightened cry 

not to the sky

to a need that

a care might be


and i rise aware

to hold a listening


if no one else

i am there


yet       i stand still in

            my shell

till again scars are

            burned against

            the inside of my


for i am seen

            not to be there


yes i know

            it is their world

            and, in but a mistake

            of time

            it is, that

a body holds

            me       in the

            where  of here


                    - jude  



fingers upon my hand, ...


so simple

that if i could want

i'd        care       just

            once   to

belong            to a somewhere

            second of time

as a man


yet they can only


what to them can only be

a god 

a freak

a running wind 

a pulsing sun


as it is             a man that i am

not a god       a freak a running wind

            or a pulsing sun

for these                    are but pieces of

            my manhood

fingers upon my hand ...


                        - jude   



with nowhere to end




oh!  but where

is this being from

that i am 


have i caught

                        as a sky catches flight

her                  that i stand

            in closeness

            in a world of un‑me

            that might i be


            born to words

painted strictly upon

            every  four walls

and we are

told                  of our where

            to know


but can it be

so, that a


my sight

reaches out


and past

 that i can see 

 the essence

of beings 


with my words 

then to follow


is there within

me a slightly

stained man of

too‑sane proportions



spills lies 

from within

to within 

and with nowhere to end

as there

is a nowhere    to begin

                                    - jude   



what matter,      does it ...!


when you are all alone

in a sphere of nothingness

and shout

then moves not those


            and so

                        what matter

does it that you cry out


that you are


what matter

            does it...


                        - jude   









to the whispering of a sun-world


of her face

            ah! such a face of

            smiling warmth

i heard a reflection

            which could not

            be seen

i thought a glimpse of

            myself did pass

for seconds across



and     all behind

those endless narrows

            of formless walls

came  and centered in

            a breathing


a soft flame


that i thought the

feel of something

beautiful drifting 

along side 

against my wind


but a wind

messenger whose

fingers are dying

smashed against those hideously

tall and screaming

people  buildings

am i ...


and if i turn into my


she must turn away


yet i don't cry

as i don't say

it is her time

her day

and without

 there are no smiles


no warmth left to be



i think

i feel


her thought

standing near

                        as i've no fear

                        i'll hear

and yet           stand alone

                        that lies there


                        my wind’s freedom

                        for       a

smile shared


no pain

just the rain

up my cup 

to the whispering of

a sun‑word . . .


        - jude







 warmly funny



            hour speaks the sun


            who spreads the honey

separated in part

            you whisper quietly

            and yet           smile

warmly funny


        - jude





when you cannot ;



 as i know

that when you can not


i am there smiling in

your place


that when you can not


i am there crying within

your face


for i have met you

and have felt



that you are...


            - jude




hidden strong


oh!      that i can have

nothing to say

for       of her speaking near

it is not from


that of she    i hear


from a smile

strangely drawn 

to warmth she comes

floating into me

and it is a sound of

being alive 

which shares

an almost reflection

upon the sky 

within the haze

of my eyes


was i asked not to come

not to go

am i so

when i hear


distant sounds taking form


am i near 

or is it

a fantasy 

in strength 

stronger then fear


swallowed by the light

of her eyes

i'm not surprised

to hear her beating



and gone       alone

                        yet caring not

            if nothing's there

            there is nothing to

                                    be forgotten

                                    and if   what

                        i hear  might



chance           to be...

a someone


                        breathing towards


                        as near

            i’ll leave

                        this hand

                        to a wind’s


                        to know a touch

                                    and feel the sand

and here i play

            knowing either


somewhere breathes

            a child

reflections of

her own warmth

hidden deep

yet ...

hidden strong.


                        - jude   





her own ‑ all‑breathing sips


and when cries the clown 

so smiles 

does the jester 

then with the clown

comes streams

of floating


does the jester come

to dance his

slow knowing 


before her too wide


freely silent and listening

as silently he sings

to bring  her

smile and frown

that she'll stand no longer

with painted lips

but as a facial

expression of her own ...

all breathing sips


              - jude




the fear !


strange is it?

and every time

or such

that i turn around

i have seemed to

have scared

            someone ...


and i wonder 

at all the quiet


as i am reflected in

their eyes


silly                 am i


            are they


                    - jude  



of wind control...?


i am

the door 

i open 


to you


you are 

just my reaction 

in your own wind

it is for you to move

either away or in


i am

but a god

who has created the earth

yet knows that wind‑life

is not his command


you are

man as you want


beyond your own ...


            - jude





do we want to be alive


a teacher’s tool

is not truth?

but wisdom

as wisdom is the act 

of giving the power

of living to life and

truth is but

a point where motion ends.


and teaching 

as is learning

is motion ...


and if motion is eternal?

can there ever be

one truth


yet with living as an act

of motion what matter

does truth have

in our being alive

and all back to the question

"do we want to be alive...


stagnate, living?

in a glass sphere

of truth”


  - jude




to explode!..


i was drawn one day 

onto the words of

a man 

as i passed


a rising of

sand  in

the air


i stopped squatted in a

listening position 

to see this man and his words.


i turned          but what i saw

was                 a man built image

            of a little boy,

            reading          ‑ strictly ‑

            from the

            turning pages of an

            old black book!


So       i turned toward his

way     and asked

            "you speak well.

what to me, my sir

            might you have to

            say and what of


movement on my way"


he turned first to me

and then again to the book 

to read me some words.

first i turned away but suddenly

returned around

to say

"i have already read

that book and know

not you as a

better reader

it was the you i

wanted to hear


and when i listen, i hear 

just silence.”


So       i'll go away and

if again we meet


some day,

            please gesture to

            speak from you

to me              or retain thy


as i have met you

            and care to



and i walked away,

            smiling at the

            body sands

            waiting to       explode...


                                    - jude   







only michele before the world

lying aloft of time before her growth!


her small hand stood in

movement slow

before             the wondering         


            onto mine

what gentle thoughts run 

as this child,

young in light

attempts to know

into those hearing sounds

that are greeting


pillows of bouncing light


are prancing rushing 

and carrying her 

to as fro


a flowing free sky 

lying across time

before her growth

is her childhood



                                    - jude




strong ?


holding strong 

hidden in hiding

behind a song 

and words don't belong

music  comes

out  a‑singing wrong


for what do

really you

            long for ...


who is singing which

song among the

many floating



and why

of the holding strong

pushing here

pulling away


to move

to sway

in wind say ....


                        - jude





what is fear ... ?


and     why need

            thee    to build



the air is free

and permits no


for it listens to all

silent sound calls.


and walks silently 

for only those of

listening ears

to hear...


what is fear...  ?


             - jude





absurdly deep!



when a thought

cries a laugh within


in that moment

the absurdity falling

from their moving



i can't but help


speak to them

to the air

an absurdly


physiological statement










it is night  and i've

come alone


i'm just sitting here

looking for fairies

under my sink


you think it funny,



i don't and neither do the fairies


                          - jude





“dream seeing / reality,

false light or morning bright”


"so what is real


will i take him in whatever


and so

            paint over it  the

            many colors

and here is born my reality"


it seems so easy

for a child in love


she built her home

where there lies no


no trees

for construction

he promised  on one

day that he

might pass that way

and one day 

he passed.


she stood there

across his path letting

him pass through

catching a piece of him


her womb 

controlled by love’s strange 


glancing unaware he

noticed his passing and

stopped thinking

in their god‑words 

did touch a touch



he walked on leaving her

and she holds onto a

floating  last piece of

un-shattered reality

molding it before her into formless



time always moves on­


there came a cry within her

of         wanting birth

            and she hopes in the

            thought of his eyes


again he comes this‑time


            and so stops   playing

                        teacher on the

            sounds he hears


she wonders; "what if he hears

these hidden birth‑cries

i've stolen from him

what will happen to the

freedom of his unattached



playing still in her makings

which are beginning to


she fears       'who is turning

                        my life'


and when from her mud‑stakes

of earth building

she begins to breathe

            reality becomes


the face which reaches

new from her womb

is not the face she carved

wanting to be.


he must not see,

this is not a tree

i've wanted for him

"his pain would be mine

            in my love

but i want his love.

i've stolen it

knowing it’s non‑existence"


she wants his morals as

she wants him

knowing still of this

conflict between the


she dies?

she cries


earth child  forced to be


if it is something you feel

you want 

it is something you can not steal


but the motion has begun

and now breathes without a sun


she is caught in the over‑complications

of many non‑meeting


and can not turn

for two children have played

with the tools of man and



you my child must stop

find your woman run

and shed these dream


if you want to be born

free to be this

love you love.


and me...

i wait 

not to carve false realities

i  an alone god

have a caring pen

and know

just ... to reconstruct

your real into the

real it is

and then to

vanish as gods

must always "to see her

smile real all‑time"


she'll begin in pain

and walk in rain

as she must now stain the morals

of her wants

but if she walks  she will

            greet her sun

and meet herself and meet her child,

to become not what she wants

but who she is.


if she wants,  ?          - jude   








a difference:

god or man ; man or god




45 (362,880)











45 (362,880)




45 (362,880)



                       - jude







a flower

saying never no

to the bees 

fleeing freely always

her pollen to the breeze


nature            one and natural


man    never one



                                    - jude





 and of love ; in a smile . . .


wind current calling itself


my name,

            did have a beginning


the eternal lines of


are rays of light life

burning implosions 

into a forever



i hold he,

in all‑time knowing 

as the future 

the past 

are but extensions

of an omni‑present


blue is a candle


which lines her

flame  it is the same

                        in it’s forever



and though

            i'm not there

            kissing her

i yet still know

a smile

for the warmth of her presence ...


and of love

i continue without



and of love

i have become eternal 

in a smile 

quietly warm

and beyond myself

of myself



                        - jude





shadows,  of fear,  of light...


and as a candle light

dances so also

of a near distance 

lives the shadow 

in  behind her reflection.


it is                  as this candle’s


                        falls behind its

                        own darkness


                        its shadow‑form

                        finds that its time

has an only control


            the candle’s dancing


time’s call

for all fear to

stand side by side

and strong 

in front 

before all




candles last

never through

a night

must we always

depend on a shadow’s


to pass our love 

from light




let's meet our shadows

and consume their fear 

that may a candle’s

fire  reflection

remain as an only shadow



our night.


            - jude  





that i am burning with life ...


someone’s rain is falling

as tear drops

against the windows 

of my glassed existence

and through my glass 


runs a storm 

a clashing of clouds

for a right of way


has no dimensional



her hand sees cold

with blood running

from fear 

as it lies beneath 

my hand of glass.


so i reach out

in my non‑form


to catch whatever

strength of her

storm              that might i


to return with

her screaming cold


and here, within

my glass  tomb  of life,

will i swallow

into nothingness

those drops of her

raging fear


that she will

hear those known

echoes die

behind a too ... strange

glass wall



that i may hear in her

walking away.

a newly rising sun‑warmth

a smile

through my glass



that i am burning

within of life ...

                        - jude   







movement control  vs.  meeting eternity


hello               woman

            what time is real

            as you're living

                        across now

            against what you feel

and in understanding these

burning yearnings

            there no longer

            stands yesterday

            in these right now



is time a

hideous call

carrying your name


if          now is now

then  then is then

and                 tomorrow’s shine

            is a line broken

                        from today  to be

forever lost from

                        your moving sway.


dressed in a flame‑cloth


is she a lady,

lost to the

from the stars

living without a history

to carve color

into the shade of her eyes

ah! but so

she tries 

somewhere distant

she cries 

to greet eternity in her

airless drifting



in a somewhere i have seen


an unknown to herself,

speaking her body calls 



an expanse in the

now of eternity

deciding decisions

as carving paths

living against the wrath

of her soul




she turns in now

            before she shall

            hear the call

of her  destiny

against her own

            life’s movement

"and let her movement


as she will rest

aside playing

life in her


game of living"


strangely alive

and yet to be born...


                        - jude   






considering the burial...


kneeling does a child

atop the grave’s

empty time‑drift

shoulders of hair

sway   unattached

            beyond the wind

stained from within

with lost tears

dried before they

could have ever


she is lost

            to the earth

neither standing



does she feel

the turn


a wind returns

            her hair

and she stands

to stare ...

a hand reaches for 

those droplets

of color

drifting apart

from a now

                        long  past ...


eyes     consider

            small frozen


tied restrictively atop

            the lids of her eyes

"and as they never fall

she remembers


their moment of



a woman

            touches          the sky

with her every‑skin



molds sun rays

into ...


of life


against the

strife of circling


as they roam

against the corners

of her


she smiles


a rolling laughter

mellows those

sharp hiding corners


flattened, rolling

plains of unrestricted



on a night i watch

this window of day

carry shine

from time.

into eternity

and then ...

back within time


to see

i feel myself,



                            - jude  







in the presence of you


i remember on once

waking early 

as before myself

my being was wandering


between myself alone

and a world of

turning‑clock eyes

i reached to my side

wondering if i were alone

as i saw i was

and awake.


i hear  a once

                        an awakening with

                        my dreams still

            turning      realities about my


            startled i turned

                        wondering if i was

yet to be alone;

my dream passed

back into me 

and i was.


i know            a once

            there was an awakening

            when i awoke

                        hearing all the

            sounds of within

                        of with‑out

whistling sun‑day‑shine

in new coordinated 

as known  patterns

and i turned not

to my side 

as within the

warmth that was myself

touching day

i could hear

the presence of



                        - jude







being, movement in our flight


an air bubble

adrift in the


            catches earth reflections

as will he fly


mary, mary

not ordinary 

her self‑skin gardens

do grow

vegetable gardens 

and sun flowers of

the night

will she sow.


swimming atop a

rolling hill’s wave

bending moon‑rays

            across my own thoughts

i had once built a


all the earth colors

come alive 

atop  the white

bright of a day’s sight

aglow against time’s

eternal blanket

of night


that she came

considering the grass

with her toes

and walking in the wind 

as it blows


hand in hand below a universe

of movement

we played together 

made together

a nature’s flow


and we grow together

towards a night’s light

crossing star‑shaded

worlds being movement

in our flight


            - jude   




torn sheets lie forever torn


torn sheets lie

forever torn 

that mere needle and



a needs

necessary scorn


i found           there upon a

            too cold ground

one day          a too young

            bird with

broken wing

her feet   were too long

down against the

sound of earth


she was dreaming

her nature dreams

and in the sky

she thought to

fly ?


i listened to her tears,

            and all the years

of un-flying she spent

            alone and

            not quite lying


i had molded my arms,

into the wings that

were meant for

she and had learned to

fly that

i might give to her 

her wanting piece

of times sky


i remember carrying her

from here to there

teaching her

those turns that are

the air 

for i heard somewhere

as she held a

hidden care

just to really fly.


well there came a

day she walked


speaking to test her

wings alone


i waited to greet

her in the air

on one day    i heard her


"i'm flying"

so i rose aloft to catch

                        this sight

searching for movement

                        across the night


yet       here i found

still upon the ground 

this lady‑bird making

her sound

she was carrying the feathers,

of         too many others

            found resting from

                        their flight

            i heard they were

                        stolen in the


was she trusted with

            too much might.


and there was an eagle

walking against her side,

            speaking of a world

            where they can hide

speaking of birds

from where to steal

                        a ride

and closed are

eyes  to the sky

forgetting forever of

that reason in



"i need not work

my wings

to find flight 

i can merely sleep

during day 

and steal rides at night"

spoke she

from he


by painting the night 

does that make

your color light


watch as your flock

turns away

they were giving freely

yet still  must you 

steal their sway


and with a bird you expect

to fly away


i but stayed to

catch you 

when you fell 

in your now



i can no longer dwell


shall she burn the sheet


shall she  sew the


            all before a

lost care

for her true flight 

is lost to her


a skies light


yet in  a lies air

            can ever there

grow a living stare

            a moment

            whose strength is care

not a stolen fare


                        - jude   









playing sky shaping


playing sky

shaping with me


may we see

to be well

 are we

            naked thoughts

within  the sky

in act


within copulation

we are children born from the

womb of time

            in coming

                        we're touching as free beings

                        within eternity


if then recreating time

            from our own image ...


                                    - jude






something, . . .



and it fights

its timed existence as

it struggles here

            into my light

as i near this sight

so   reacts my eyes

my body to catch hold

                        of its sight


to catch knowledge

to learn its wisdom

and again create a movement

of white

individually colored



- jude





bowls of light


summer summer 

a mountain’s calling rain 

a simple thunder 

is crying through the time

of the sky once again


space lines have drawn

her eyes through

matter to catch

mine with their wandering


a reflecting moment 

we're caught

together a distance 

and in carrying it

into now we've found

forward movement in our



rhymes beyond sound

in beating rhythms

against the ground

something speaks 

and we have found 

a more then feather welcome

against our eyes

a reflecting image 

hand upon hand 

becomes a color shaping in the sky.


a burning eye

            and the sun is in


seemingly watching out into

time but merely

            waiting for

a climber’s warmth  to

            reach its height,


freely within a mountain’s glare 

i have found myself

in breath of your air

that when i stare


i hear and we are


in a here stretching across



and in not looking to find

but merely walking to climb

            we caress the world

            with our own mountain


and each time we meet

            are we new

atop a tree’s fingers

we reach into a

glaciers white

not retreating but flowing


walking about those peaks

            carrying just our

own    bowls of light

                        are we

            that are we near

            that we are here


                        - jude 




Back to Old Poetry Page