Here are six poems that first appeared in the book NightWalks, RavenHawk's Way. If you are interested in a copy of the book, send me an e-mail, and I'll tell you how to acquire one.

NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Copyright © 1994
by Wayne Klick

NightWalks

Walking in the night, singing to himself.

The stars echo his voice to a distant galaxy that exists in his heart.

The moon is a watchtower, reflecting light lost by the sun. This light cannot make things grow, so it makes things die.

The moon has a soul of its own, much older than the Earth's.

The moon's stories are impossible to understand in the light of day. The air must be dark for their meaning to be clear.

The hard street is comfortable to his feet. It gives no more than it takes.

His body blends into the sidewalk, disappearing to eyes naked with lies.

His strength comes from there. His will is the will of night.

His desires can only be fulfilled in the darkness. The daytime kills his dreams.


NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Copyright © 1994
by Wayne Klick

The Ravens

Finally there is this:

the edge of the desert waiting.
there all night.
sleek, dark bills.
moonsilver on their wings.
as still as the cracks.

the wind came.
ruffled their breath.

their eyes flashed.
their wings they lifted.
flew away in four directions.

if you want to know more,
to the desert go.
high basalt cliffs.

do not blink.

alert the Raven in your consciousness.

he will see your eyes.

be careful.


NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Copyright © 1994
by Wayne Klick

in that space

This is the age
when great egos crash
like a wave striking Puget Sound,
continued expansion
until non-existence. Growth
beyond the third dimension
makes one difficult to see
in the light.
When darkness falls
then dreams are allowed.
There,
in that space,
beyond time,
shapes amorphous are visualized.

Focus is not necessary in that space.

One cannot reach the unreachable
with his hands.

The third eye
can see anything,
can hear,
and can feel.

Can you imagine a light
so bright
that it has weight to it? A light
that hits you like
pellets from a shotgun blast?
A shower of intensity
that bends your knees
and pushes your head backward,
but doesn't force-close the eyes.

Stand in it for a minute
and you get used to it.

Then, before too long,
you start to need it to thrive in it.

The darkness becomes darker then,
and not as comfortable as before,
unless there are stars.

The in between space
and time warped records
of civilization fall away
toward tomorrow.

A collector's guide
to galactic battlefields
of visionary artists striving
to communicate
truth
and prevaricated thinking
better ways and means
to an end of time
begins again
each moment
to moment
everything changes,
people walk away,
the sun rises,
sets again,
the night falls,
then rises into
continued expansion until non-existence.


NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Copyright © 1994
by Wayne Klick

Women In Movement

Women in movement speak a language only hearts understand.

Arms, legs, bodies in motion spin around a center in the torso leaving the personality in a place unfindable.

All things flow through women
from the darkest places
seeking illumination
through seeing.

Lightness of wanting

is the only means
of getting,
of finding,
what is sought.

A viewer,

a man,

can only wish for what is not good for him,

and discard that which he needs.

His turmoil grows like a weed

sending him back

to the black places he knows so well;

discovering again that the

Man within Woman

is who he truly is.

Concentric circles expand around the ball of Light --

engulfing -- overwhelming --

but returning to the place of Oneness.

Where he began.

Watching Women Moving.

Speaking.

He understands.


NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Copyright © 1994
by Wayne Klick

Cropduster

A cropduster flies over a pasture
as a little boy watches;
not far from his home,
but far away
from all the places he wants to be.
The plane flies low
spreading a chemical formulated
to make life better for everyone
sans bugs or weeds. The chemical
kills trees too, but that makes
for more firewood this winter.

He sees the plane dip
then rise
into the sky like Icarus
who would fly to the sun
to escape army worms. The
young boy would swim the sea
to escape cropdusters, crops, dust,
cows, oil wells, mudflaps,
even the farmhouse
where his mother dutifully
prepares a peanut butter sandwich
for his midsummer luncheon.

The sky is hot,
the air is blue,
and the future seems
so very distant
from the present.

Too far away.

Unreachable.

Way off in the universe
the cropduster dips again
exterminating another memory,
distracting the man
from another meaningful experience.

This place can never change
since the minds of its inhabitants
are unpliable and shut.

The boy,
as the plane rises again,
wants to cry,
but for no reason,
at least no reason
he is yet able to understand.

The road next to the pasture
fills with a different kind of dust
behind a blue chevy pickup with
no mudflaps. The driver watches
the cropduster with approval.

The boy,
seeing the sun straight overhead
knows his mother awaits --
so the rat terrier at his side
hears a whistle
and begins to trot with his friend.

Much will happen.
But there's no need to worry about
that now -- as the cropduster gets
smaller, looking for a different pasture.


NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Copyright © 1994
by Wayne Klick

He is Genghis Khan
and Jesus
sitting together
on the streetcorner
begging quarters
in exchange for
prophesy and revolution.
He is toluene nightdreams
rolled together,
tucked away,
hidden in the apse.
Christ the Kahn
sings
like a mellotron,
programmed
and willing
to please ears,
like corn
pleases a flatpickin' Okie.
Genghis Jesus
won the war
of love and hate
by hitting the jackpot
of Mongol bungle bellows
roaring across the Sea of Japan.
Shohondo shakers
shake fingers at losers lost
on the Pathway home.
The lost losers
want others
to follow them
but no one will.
The found ones'
laughter
blasphemes the lie,
watching pleased
as ALL religions die.


NightWalks
The Ravens
in that space
Women In Movement
Cropduster
Genghis Jesus

Wayne's Writings