Fractal Roses

Between Frontiers
poems by john roland penner

between frontiers january 17, 1992 between the edges of night and day between the borders where the twilight lays between shadows there haunting there running, drifting there where snow drifts like fluffy snakes across the road and leaves scuttle like creatures across the way with nervous twinkles, confidence shyly mysterious intertwining knowledge, hero, myth, warmth, psyche, and unknown luminescent whispers into iridescent thoughts misty roses blooming through shadows, in the halls of childhood. and time; gathers like dawning before a new time of beginnings of endings of endless lives loves comes softly, like panthers feet to patter on this mortal coil flow. like clouds billowing in their dance creating their collapses and renew. see? life runs in rivulets sadness quickens the joy, tempers, deepens its glistening where the sparkles and sighs lay, sleeping? helplessly intertwingled cats brooding through doors doors revealing destinies of ephemeral galloping colours, across the wayside ­ seaside splashing through exhilarating crests winds of sands through the nostrils revelling wild and free in details too plain and vast to ponder. a tryst between fey lovers. at once inside the outside through the door and in the without fractals coil through joining separations belonging, reckoning and listening singing into creation spirits dancing out their part between the lines of this life between and in the angles of the earth between frontiers life.
sunset on black water july 30, 1992 at long lake lodge sunset comes forward and paints the luminescent sky over the mountains lining the waters that dry stand. i am standing in love during that ephemeral time between when the world meets the divine take a step back and brace. lean forward and breath. black water deep and pure clear as ebony plunge, i am rushing through the wind but already done the water closes it's door above me. i'm in the deep but already rising the light swirls like incense a dazzling mandala of sun in water breaking the surface i swim. blackwater before me blackwater around me soothing deep and pure only before me is sun, reaching her arms across the water, swimming into her coolness breeze. arms part in front of me causing smooth that ripples aside into the filigree of chaos i journey home.
chapter 24, 1990, september - moonlit sea and i found a girl, whose eyes were made of moonlight. "who are you?" and she replied; "i am sorrow. i am made of the tears of those whose love is lost." then i saw she grew and grew, and her tears washed over me like the sea..
wind chant october 2, 1992 the wind in the trees is a breeze if you please and the wind from the south will kiss you on the mouth and the cats catch the rats which scurry underground and the wind will sing and dance about with fingers in your hair; it will toss about and dances with the leaves in the trees that sit so stout and the tree wears a crown that looks on out with a ray he will say what are you about? and the ray is gold and it shines so bright from sun to moon when it's chilly out and it's sunny out with the leaves in the trees where baby looks about baby's whistling out to the mother who does flutter in the trees with the ray and everyone sees in the breeze while the cat takes a nap and purrs like the furs of a call to us all in us all is a breeze but no-one sees the cat eat the rat for they do not know where to find them. and the leaves do flutter at the sound of the mother and when rain is coming and the sun starts sunning and the wind does chatter to voices that matter and the sheep start spinning to the wind that's winding from the north is blowing birds in an arrow and even that sparrow twitters the day away. all day the chatter to the cats do matter and the seagulls floating in a rain that's doting to fill the air with those wonderful ribbons that the crown starts singing out of colours springing between the twilight rays. and the dogs are howling and the music's growling where the water's flowing into the glowing and the mist is twinkling while it does it's sprinkling and the flowers are thinking into the colours that they do wear, where the cat is napping and the cat is scrying until she's flying, and baby is crying until the mother comes with another and the cat was laughing and everything's merry as though that fairy did kiss the moon. and then the shower and the fish and the flower chuckled til the light of noon. and the fluffiest rats took off their hats and the merriest berries no longer do tarry, for the fairies and the birds and the rat and the cat and the fish and the bird did eat them. and now the swallow the wind does follow and the sun is setting into it's bedding and the wind does chatter 'what is the matter?' for i'll be waking soon.
a poem for biking august 18, 1988 ­ pour hélène power manifesting itself in circles it is just you and the wind the bike and the road. the sun is a circle of power, and around the pedal goes. powerful, passionate red beams out through the misty blue hues of this world the sunset is perfect. another stroke, and the calves tighten the sweat and the passion pushes her forward, through the misty hues of this world the feeling is perfect. i am by a lake, and there is the reflection of the trees, the flowers, the clouds, the sunset. the water is still, it is so so calm, tranquil and pure. the cool breeze - a sigh fry breath it's surface my mind is the water with reflections of you. your eyes, your lips, your legs, your breaths, your smile. and my mind is calm, til thoughts of you; powerful and passionate form ripples on the water; drop. powerful, passionate, these thoughts of you the sunset is perfect and another stroke, the calves tighten, the sun is a circle of power, and round the pedal goes.
t.t.c. may 29, 1990 through these grey veins daily. a hundred thousand people flow everyday a little bit of death closes in on our hearts in the soot of the underground til soon you feel the darkness has shaded your skin like all those around you and you long for the few seconds of sun when you cross the d.v.p. daily you must drink the smell of milk gone sour everyday the closure of common strangers crowds upon you.
and the music plays march 17, 1993 - at a throwing muses concert within every person a bird, a fish, a frog, a snake, a cat. and to which one comes most often to the surface what broods just below the surface? water, warm mud oozy bottom, silt, soft. so we're all in this large smoky dark room [cave]. they say there's a concert here tonight the musicians will play and turn off the night into mist into nothingness it becomes the music starts and the world around fades we are left with no numbered days we are here the dispossessed we are here is there nothing left? smile and symbol serpents whisper in the air ending at a cigarette tip ­ exhales squinting into a yawn back into the cavern of the air stale and glorious, close your eyes, don't smell and it's fresh stinging your eyes. he and the cat walk into the room it's silent there here his head turns so the cat heads turn also synchronous because this is a dream and he is the cat indians say dreams are more real than life. the music plays so the body sways into the rays red and wave away flag of my soul kiss my lips my burning lips burning with oil bubbling with blisters drink the cup which overflows. that was sweet. the lips were only imagined singed, for they are perfect in form. is lovely like rodents snails crawl slowly across your cheek. drone. drone. drone. the music is ecstatic while it hides in a corner; insistent, persistent. pulsing it, gyrations soothing to the heat one. they are one now. where do they know? what broods just below the surface? laughter? or sinister? that man sitting in the corner old man. wrinkled in face. what is he doing here? what's that look in his eye? what's that stare? then a smile cracks his lip one corner lifts the air the smile his eyes slightly crazied someone said "he's flipped". he knows the secret secret now. have you stirred the waters; how does it feel? to know the beast within; is it purring? swimming or drowning? did it fly away? deluding, diluting, every bit of each die the either/or they make each other and! both three. be3! so alive. the music is ended the concert's over but there's still no there! they all think they're going home now but there's nowhere out to go! looking for an in. only mists and vapours. so they go back and sit where they were and weep, and talk, and ask what happened. time passes but it never did, it all happens simultaneously we only have to wait for it because we can't take it all in at once like it really is. that's the illusion. space curved in on itself. and time. stretches curved like mirrors. and time. stretches like fallopian tubes delivering the to the connection of life this place this space is a meeting place the cave the womb is the same let's meet there and see what happens because you can never know the path changes itself like the space between like the path is all the places between the trees. so they stop and stare into that air that commensurate vapour and all things that seem that solid one day have been; sleep and they eat and what becomes? what is. in the morning they awaken she has thought a flower and he a hush him a dagger and her a thrush. the stage became a tree and the chairs all became toads the instruments became flowers and wind the strings became vines which sang out of tune some of them got twisted and turned into two and so were the people; the kind ones became translucent and the unknown ones became free the shameless (but not them) became executioners and the thoughtful ones birds this frustrated them greatly for the birds weren't big enough for the racks. now in the vapour and in the cave here. it effects itself too when they wake up they all happen the things they thought the dreams they dared became.
early morning july 3, 1993 i awoke at the time when the sun wakes and the world seems out the window were many white trees and each of them were bare in the breeze, yet covered in black birds full - like they were leaves. the sounds of the birds made a great song and each sound, though silent quivered me strong with rushes and thrushes through my mind. the aura of sunrise crawled up the wall and over the dresser and into the hall the brilliance of being shone through me for the ephemeral time as i wakened my eyes grew back asleep and woke again later into this dreaming world; now only glimpses between cracks did you see that shadow rush? chapter xix - lillith opens the door of sighs shudder june 1, 1992 whatever has become of me? the youth once young and free stands now in front. of me; decayed. the pure water sings so easily is stained by compromise skeletons in forgotten closets rattle their bones and raise a dust the indulgence of a lonely desire like mud. the pureness now only longed for the innocence flitted away this fiendish flesh covers my core of naiveté my countenance bears monstrosity i lift a sagging scaled paw to cover my eyes which bleating red i cried to do good my heart of light is covered in scales the boyhood hasn't died it only lays hidden inside behind animosity and there he fights with small wooden sword he pokes and he prods at remorse and cries; anew! renew! nobleness is eroding; every lie every hurt every slighting every shirk encrusts him a little more will he win? he looks out i look in the mirror and i shudder.
in the hearts of us june 17, 1992 in the middlemost part of the factories and decay roundabout where the festers lay an island of water where ships lie in bays acrid air that chokes and flays stings the land, and rots the way. there. here are the swans alighting like ripples sending the lilies scented nudges pushing away like the merest breath of us. swans and lilies lilies and swans lie in the middlemost part of us.
a blessing april 13, 1992 - for my sister diane, on her birthday i want you to have a feeling. a feeling like when it is night. the air is delectable and you sit by a lake softly the breezes ripple the image of her moon, in fullness. translucent and warm. with shimmers. crickets chirp soft like ivory, carved. with ebony bows. feel beneath you as the earth sighs in slumber the grass spins out its dew. this is what i give to you. to know. tranquillity.
observed june 12, 1992 breath the silence in the tangles of your hair blown like the spray of dawn. moonsets sunsets over the waterfall creeping without listening sings until it falls watching. they are watching me silently they stare and wonder, wonder if i'm aware.
chapter 17 ­ fundamentalist postmodernist dogs. had it, but when i tried to say, forgot the words. i looked away, and caught sight with the corner of mine eye; pointing, i said "look!" but the dog was too busy smelling my finger, and mother kirk was too busy crying "jesus jesus". they are alike in this respect. i looked straight at it, and it died. it grew again elsewhere, just out of sight.
snow february 16, 1992 nature's filigree lacing branches that sleep and renew ice that ribbons the glass coils and look through mists frozen in swirls as every snowdrop in a tiny world blooms.
dream of the lake may 25, 1991 ­ lewis had an island alacrity coats my mind with longing, cascading colours; shadows of music play the cacophony of life. glistening; eversweet waters fall cool through the air subtle hues of vast cosmic voices too silent to hear billowing fissures in caves like cool dreams shades of life colours drench every pore, and creep to the inside of my outsides i seek you.
the colour of love december 15, 1990 i) black is the colour of love and grey is a shade of sorrow reach up and touch the sky that lies in her eyes. see. she stands and prays she. claims to be wild. you can't tame a starchild. you can't claim the starchild. ii) i have a feeling this is a mirror. laughing and crying living and dying you live in umbra i gave the sun love so, i want to be just like you. it said.
winter march 19, 1991 winter comes and winter lays til almost the memory of green and living things is gone. skeletons consume me, and the trees rattle their bones. all the earth lies in wait beneath its shroud of snow.
fragile june 24, 1992 the beauty is fragile the flower is not. beauty is the essence of the flower.
the storm september 24, 1990 - port dalhousie, st. catharines the water is deep endless hunger the waves seeth in chaotic lights darkness broods and smothers the water, and sometimes the waves reflect their menace and come to chase me flood. flood all over. the place i stand, i'm walking. on the rocks, and i press my face into the wind revel as the spray stings my face it's eyes blink with lightening and in the roar i hear a whisper.. 'i love you'
fortune august 1990 today a bird a sparrow in the road lanes passed round him and for a moment our eyes met its plight and echoed their fear i had wanted to stop but we'd already passed on by with nowhere to go
beneath this bridge june 23, 1990 the cars stream by fifteen feet away ten thousand of them daily the people walk above four thousand of them everyday hundreds of people pass by in high-speed trains, daily; and never do they notice the leprechaun watching from beneath this flower.
nephilim wandering january 17, 1990 laughing at stars the nephilim are inside of us! their fate is folly and pride is their joy. wandering through our lives. casually strong are the nephilim inside of us! haunting religion the meek are strong wandering through our lives.
the otherworld september 12, 1990 the otherworld is a reflection peering between my mind longing desire creeps through these mental chains i feel like milk and my tongue is shaped like ice and my bones sound like love wrapped in fur. if we are brothers where are our minds? existential lives make up our minds and where do they go? mother kirk if you've got to know there's no reason for them to give.
moonlight ghosts may 19, 1992 there is a river flowing deep and wide a giant slumbering heaving with great sighs currents slow and strong with willows at her side. this river is at night with the moon full on her brow reflecting on it's deep blackness. on this river is a raft and on this raft a man aged and grey like the morning will someday. and on this raft with the man is a mare pale as pearl silently they glide opaque and thin then slowly. they fade away.
in cardiff august 22, 1992 as i walk towards the sound of the cathedral a solitary leaf flutters down cobblestone streets footsteps punctuated by the cascading of bells. notes descend on each other echoing the desolation of the twilight tower, silhouetted against the opalescent sky. a cat wanders stealthily between the edges of a fence, and it slips between the filigree, silent as the shadows
yolanna august 14, 1992, ft. william train station in the heat of our argument we did not notice the one who sat beside us whose face was serene as she smiled like a queen of peace. she interjected between our outbursts of mean and rippled the station to calm. unpretentious and polite we never knew quite from where she had been. i take care of children she said and with a wave of her head she left in the place a clean. from south africa sent to heal the rent and never to be seen again. sitting among us are a thousand angels.
skye august 16, 1992 over a thousand hills lies skye in the whispers of a loch in the echo of a stream there lays the emerald green crowned with mists of gold and lavender smells unseen sigh to the sky, where lies my queen between the meadows of an ancient dream.
with vesna at long lake july 17, 1993 - with respects to emily dickinson a certain slant of light reflecting in motion sunlight off the water dangles into the air on the underside of shade upon me cool rock.
we september 7, 1991 alone in a world without fear crying on a road without tears, we are the lost ones that have been found. lurking in the corners haunting iridescent shadows laughter runs through the halls of childhood.
melting in warm march 25, 1993 an orchestra of raindrops drips off their ice and into the cracks where once they froze and cracked the heart of frozen stone pattering, splattering into subsequent pools breathly big enough for a plash plunge and direct drop into the ice pool and drip deep through where translucent and rim spills onto the side unfreezing earth like music it's not raining the icicles gather rapidly a row dripping like happy short above the ground caught me dropping with these sounds.
apology march 3, 1993 ideas impregnate into the mind a universe of difference is difficult to find where is the end when we begin the begin the space curves inside us when we hear the word the signal, the message travels imperfectly far through oceans of question the aha becomes bent mobius strips of space rear up into my face inside becomes without and face becomes not stout the strength must yield the other will become til none other comes back again to do it all again ideas with arsenic laced becomes the death we feast upon each must die into the other the other is not the other until another stars gleam bright and fair born of shadow rare light and dark make one. and that's how love was won.
sunny veki in january april 4, 1993 walking down soft ravine with thigh kissed by footsteps daisy smiles face at the sun into forest with scattered light caressing ground and thrush scampering through snails crawling; moss over, in. mushroom plays tho ring around then body smiles.
in niagara on the lake march 21, 1993 white splayed expanse spread smooth under the white wide canvas sky clear, breath and open where mist sprinkles out the water eats seats ­ vapoury sky in white and subtle hues hoary ice in hoary trees line of shore forms the gargoyles ­ sleeping ­ of grotesque trees by ice drips of the misty morn mourn ­ happy canvas clothed hangs with drooped masses the shore eats the colourless slow the breathing lapping of blank water on blasted dripping ice fingers dripping smoothly down contorted wood bark covered seemly in the breeze; the drop catches and falls not quite straight to join the eternal surging of the white and barren seas. sensing still the recoming of the drips of spring loosening still sleep-like coma, but aware the sleepy paralysis of the ice-locked first the finger, then the hand then the sea. dripping sideways for the breeze, wave, surf, flow over the subtle snow the shadow of grey light, sunny in diffuse impressing hardly into the snow over ice, the sentient drift curves in the shadow and clearly in diffuse form drift snow ­ one blown into at a time; to curve in shadow subtly, if you listen carefully, you can hear the sounds the shapes sing. wide and white land of ice with rounds of frozen drifting keeping their places bumping each in the solid heaving breathing sigh of it's white deepness covered. open.
impressions of a park may 1, 1993 ripple shadows of the lapping cross the memory of an edge see the aura of sun streaming from shadow head in the water lighting out the waves in rays of golden-green to white. shallow waves meeting each other acrossed the pier in-full-light of sun under which new seaweed flows to switch, in the warm. ducks play in the grass covered water, and beach pools.
still life may 1, 1993, at a concert see all the people looking straight forward to the music. stand. all but one i caught a glimpse of just one eye behind the head of one entranced. caught looking full with deep eyes. turned away, and i smiled at the thought of she.
rain may 5, 1993 there is a wind caused by the air moved by the falling rain which brushes my face and calls back again the rush of water on an ancient plain. the earth drinks from gathering pools.
snakes november 8, 1993 - with respects to jim morrison "the stars the moon she reads the future in your hand" multiplicity of meanings the teller the microcosm ­ swirls in the palm of your hand the sacred rose crossing, where does it go? through dust are the bites and vaguely vastly by the fallen snow. lye the shells of insects which have crawled out of their bodies and cling to the trees a slit of reality in their once backs.
for the minister of leaves january 20, 1994 steams rise across the surface forming their tempest drifting steam dances like a belly undone layers serpentine and leaves. cream enters like a devourer with arms in swirls drink delight
struggle november 9, 1993 unicorn holds it's head pierced through her heart she was unloved and inside her the land died dead roots lost in the earth layer upon layer, and in death i am consumed within me a chill of horns where the heart cries of we coalescing into the tears within me and i nakedly fight for union.
in bliss may 29, 1993 delicious colours intensify themselves as the forms of tree and sky smooth; green and blue in multitudes of shade the light lakes around reflections scatter up the water like a dancing hall and tree leaf shadows quiver in their ecstasy i flutter through my shadow brief and the sun feels full on my green back i am parts of this i am part of this intensity of spring i am consumed.
morning rising october 14, 1993 in droplets. mist drops from the lake into rainbow sunrise like two suns rising above the crimson-golden bough. seagull diving, dunks its head the misty frost in two grinning misty green. unleafing branches unlaced my hissing wind.
years twilight october 1, 1993 fall's shadows diffusing in the each. relief of; weird air blustering windy scuttles the leaves chestnut coloured nuggets of in the grass smelling ashen like drying wet leaves storming autumn rustles for bed gathering squirrels whose hoarding nuts in a flurry of wind the sun shining hotly, lowly, strong slanted shadows slip the edge of those. shadows running up the wall the leaves. contrast up a shadow bush; and petals turning crimson ever ringing it with dark dry crust of an edge of leaves multiply them ­ fall. ten; dozens, and dozens dozens falling for whole mountain-full, forest (s) between the leaves smell and surround, encompassing senses in this half-light-hush twilight this fall of silence and wind. And wind crisp the foot-fall. fall around.
the grave that carries joy december 21, 1994 in twilight the forest lays in wait for me like a lover longing it sought my company these shadows have eyes in water they float like streaming weeds afloat with water rushing under wave under shadow under grave wandering through the woods i stand lost in shadows made from i reflecting through the dim between the edge of those unseen streaming sun and edge of day it is here that i would lay silence weaves around the leaves are dry upon the ground's unheaving mounds flow in moan of waking raking light and holy the leaves swirl and gather up into a silent spectre and flutter the owl calls unseeing eyes peering, feeding heart casting light inviting into this unkown hidden splendour, i cannot know this bliss until i drink of this water flowing it's sparkle dark and baptising waiting for me to welcome into their company this silent unspeakable truth
in the centre of night may 9, 1994 lying curled in sheets warm in this silent cradle dark within this empty room hearing outside this room within this wailing wind beating at my windows threatening to blow into this chamber my room which within i dream silently held of storms outside
pyramid july 27, 1993 i) invocation of the crawling pull tomb of the womb with its jaw ready for devouring between the dirt in it's teeth of stone pull myself into; i saw us before, in horror. ii) i bury myself into a hole and there where fragrant death grows i die into the inside crack of the four along to the apex where my spirit soars and flies together like a phantasmic bird like dust in the dark un-light and joins like air into one, then in union we dream out our lives again, and our dreams watch us in horror, calling us spectres when we are love.
frontiers too january 13, 1993 what about the borders? between borders between frontiers down across the shadow where the twilight lays creeping through the snow meow like nude kittens hither, where they go calmly sporantious between the licks of their teeth growl like mean rodents and puppies in their heat riding the snake suffer the coils wallace the borogroves and meander the sloves down in the meadow where the swamp is coolest and green and moist and vines grow across the air and down that stair snails grow huge and warm or am i just getting smaller? slither the rodents down inside your neck a bite, a scratch a fight, a smack listen for the willows, for they are weeping dripping tears between my toes into the lake the primal ocean warm and wide generating through colours a music that's rare how fair, the sound of elephants trample in the bush under the roots i stick my foot and feel the mud squish the clay the formation where does it go? where is the monkey sitting in the snow. eating a banana? swinging on a vine thick vines entangle thick vines feed the monkey and writhe like the cool snake; slowly blissful with it's butterfly wings eating it's cocoon and sending the lilies misty roses blooming through flowers, in the halls of childhood the glow in the fog of night fires on prairies and caves shine between the twigs of essence look at the frost between it lays the answer at the edges at the borders where the twilight lays diamond dont cry - the joy's too much

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Posted: February 19, 2004
Updated: October 2015