Chris Kelly

Steel for brick

Kingston brick yard

From a series of photos shot at the Kingston brick yard and Tilcon concrete facility, pre-development

No title

From a series of photos shot at the Kingston brick yard and Tilcon concrete facility, pre-state park

Black Godess

Coffee makes me love
Even before I stir
My heart is open to the world
I take the medicine for being
By the mouth without seeing
The true glory of the day
It always comes true
With the mouth watering ensues
The brilliant awakening of cells
The super heightened manic bend

I give myself to you black goddess
My occupation depends on your benevolence
Your encouragement is sweet
It glides and softens too
I find my way through
An otherwise foggy day
Far from the San Francisco Bay
Where I first saw your face
You were everywhere in my way
Helping me to stay awake
Through the trying days of twenty-three

Now we’re an undefeatable team
Sometimes in true true black
Accompanied by a snack
Or augmented by sugar and cream

Giving Ghosts Gifts

I smell fresh roses on the subway
Are my ghosts here too?
Can they visit inhospitable places?
Pass through me drawing out memory

It’s always unexpected when it happens
An overwhelming sense of calm
More than déjà vu or melancholy
It’s the wave of true sensation

It passes so brusquely
As if only to taunt my motion
Leaving only memory, a pale emotion
Compared to time and space travel

Thank you for the flowers
On this grey Spring day
Even if their presence quiets
A disillusioned way.

How can a mortal give gifts to a ghost
Passing things across the ether
We can only accept
Until the great gap is bridged.

The Separation of Time

It often starts the same way, with no thoughts and no direction. It’s almost like a prayer: I am open and willing to be led into the spirit of giving. Sometimes the thread weaves into a beautiful web, intricate and decidedly serene. Sometimes the wandering lust manages a coup, and away to the battlefield we go. Today, I don’t know. It seems like we’re just here. We’re here in the train going nowhere. The distance varies in theory, but the destination remains the same. It’s not the philosophy of present moment hogwash. It just the kiss of time as she breezes by. She leaves us with debris and belongings. I often forget to thank her for the living gifts. Today it is still and right. Each moment a fluid circle.

Howling Wolf Blues

It takes courage to sing
To let out the wolf’s blood
Let it rain into the mouths of prey

Accosted by naysayers
Yet still unwavering
Into the moon’s waning ear
The strains of earthly summer tunes
Improvised by shutting out the noise
From the orchestrated blues

Sometimes she must run
To escape the mounting tension
And build up the well
Until the levees burst violence
Spray the walls with blood red calm
Wanting to do no harm
But the chemical is strong

As the pull of the goddess mothers face becomes undeniable
She reaches down into her belly
Where the fiery pain burns
Where the gestating movement approaches critical mass
Stand straight, here comes the rain
And a thundering howl claps across the American sky
The ones who were waiting the longest
Are satisfied by the sound
And the beast deflates into a shell
Defeated in the true glory of nature
The sounds and the cells absorbed
Into a stark, silent western landscape

It Takes All to be All

There are so many things to consider when being a human in this life. The speed of thought and travel velocity is become the topic of concern. Where is this madness taking us? Where are we going at such a rate. Some will always say its toward our own demise. Others will argue its evolving into a better life for All. It seems that acceptance comes more easily to some, and the death spiral is still the path of others–all wanting simply to be loved, appreciated, useful and secure, no matter what the outward elements betray.

There is no answer because there’s no question. There is only life as its always been since the inverted vortex unbeginning.

There stands a monument, in the mountains. It is but a flick on the continuum, but it’s meaning is everlasting. The pervasive entirety is good. It persuades a cynic like me to surrender. It fills the void or vacuum with intangible wellness and safety. There’s a medium of chaotic bliss. We are blessed with never, ever, having to know or understand. We shall always retain at least one mysterious non explicable notion in the theater of All.

Our Love for the Queen Will Sustain

What if there were kings or a queen here
Ruling over this domain
Giving us the loving care
We can’t provide for ourselves
Because we are but simple peasants
Not accustomed to this way
All but suffering just to stay awake
In this American dream

Let the horns sound for the regal
Glory to the queen mother
She loves us without scorn
Feeds us from her pearly hand

We are but humble stewards of the land
Don’t foresake us our wayward desire
To have what you have
To steal it away, forever hide it
In the precious places of our hearts
This pernicious lust may drive us down
To bite the sweet and gracious hand
That gives us love from distant towers
Our beloved sacred gem and flower

We promise we will learn to live
Within the generosity you give
Even though our dark desire
May conspire.

Random Fours

It’s a creators wild whim
To fill us full of thoughts and dreams
Let us wander through a life of never knowing
Where the start is, where the end lands where we’re going

—-/////—-

It was spoken in a near voice
That the wolf would have no choice
But the raising hair would come
And the hunt must hungry drone

—-////—-

In a deft stroke of nature
The cataclysm falls upon the land
Rising birds into the upper atmosphere
Dropping them like rain

—-////—-

We are but pollen on the spring air
Wandering the cyclic sundry
Landing with hopes and intention
Procreating in favor of the mission

—-////—-

I left the halls of mourning
To begin a new loves day
Dropping slowly all I carried
Lest the heavy be what my burdened way