Poetry by Michael Mayo, Book II, The Book of Awakenings

The Sower - Vincent van Gogh   Arles, June 1888

"Someone, I tell you,
will remember us."
- Sappho

In Memory of

Donald Anthony

John Apolka

John Armstrong

Karli Bernstein

Daniel Morales Brink and Hector Salazar

Rob Caramico

Nicolas Castellon C.

Tom Christensen

Sando Counts

Tommy Dowling

Charlie Halloran

Patrick Kearns

Mark Koopman

Louis Morelli

Tony Norton

Craig Pearce


Jim Wells


James Bergeron


Dom Marelli


Though lovers be lost love shall not
                                                      - Dylan Thomas, And Death Shall Have No Dominion

He who dreams of drinking wine may weep when morning comes.  He who dreams of weeping may be off to the hunt in the morning.  During his dream he does not know that he is dreaming.  It is only when he is wakened up that he knows that it was a dream.  Someday there will be a great awakening.  Then we shall know that this life is a great dream.
                                                                                                                                                       - Chuang-Tzu

Sunday morning bells -
live in this world

Dune grasses in clusters
of six or seven -
my shadow passes among them

Walking for miles in Provincetown
under my borrowed umbrella -
No end to September rains

No road but the one
           I'm on,
taking time for spring violets

Heart, if you must have a stop
then stop now -
Do not go on tormenting me
with sleepless nights
and this endless longing

The mysteries deepen, and you turn your head
The next moment, it's the wrong key
You call out your lover's name, thinking,
There's something of a locksmith in him too
All the locks tumble as you fall through each other
like rain through the ocean floor

The flower of the hibiscus lasts
but two days and a night -
How suddenly our love
came and went

Vultures pick at the seal carcass -
no one's home

Alamo Square -
tree, open your eyes
and feast on my beauty

to R.

Wear this amulet around your wrist
where you cut yourself
Only magic can soothe love's wounds

Dandelion, take heart:
though you're not the summer rose
you're mine

I press the fragrance in your shirt
to my face one more time
You've gone away
without so much as goodbye
My body still burns

Myself of long ago -
How does he get along
these days, I wonder?

Your hands and feet
directed by the mind
take you down the path -
But what is it
guides the mind
down its path?

The snows of spring melt
high in the mountains
and join in rivulets to the sea
Thus does my longing gather its strength

They listen, and their heads nod: morning sunflowers

Afternoon geraniums -
this life too
must fade

Summer evening walk -
wind though the fir trees,
children's voices

Summer fields of my youth
at Sunnycrest Park -
Are they still so green?

The moon slips from behind a passing cloud -
that lovely dream I'd forgotten
comes back to me in a flash

It's true you don't want
anything more to do with me -
Still, I take my pleasure
walking past your window
every night on Haight Street

It's useless to try to keep track
of lies and truths -
Who goes on counting the days
until the next kiss?

The mite caught between the old book's
                    pages -
I've come across him again

Moon reflected in clear water,
moon reflected in cloudy water -
They both follow the same path
through the sky

Waking, then sleeping, and waking again,
         these dreams of mine tossed
upon the pillow's shore

Page 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

to the collection All Fall Down

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The Book of Awakenings
© Copyright 2000-2013 by Michael Mayo.
All rights reserved.
Some of these poems have appeared in American Tanka and RFD

Michael John Mayo
Carretera a Mismaloya 101 Esq. Abedul
 Costa Linda #11
Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco
48380  Mexico

Tel: 011-52-322-222-6918
Fax: 011-52-322-222-0092 (public fax)