Poetry of Jonny Alexander Nay

How many hours, lost, in confusion.  To return, shadow, of an image,  Of the moon.  Wading through, your heart,  that lonely ocean,  Of the dark.  To bend, in tune, with:  Loss and Wound,  To hold-in light, and  Never Bloom.  — —  I love your back!  And your sweet head... Resting on your shoulder, my hand, in stead:  “Brother, Sister”  And you are loved, and I do love. So may I give you this,  my sweetest kiss And you become the dove.

What is he doing out there,  Running by moonlight?  Underneath the big tree,  With a ring, And a song.  “Oh mother”  He says,  What a freak.

Running up in the cold winter air, The white stairs, Of the capitol steps In the land of the free, Coming to delight in what, History, or a dream of nobility? Terror, over the peak, Not from skies, But from hands unknown. Little Children Running Up the Steps. Without terror? No, I can hear them. — where they live, Where they cower, from the black hands of Hands unknown, And his white temple.

These three poems, are dedicated to tears. And to my parents, for difficulties and loss. - What can I do?- Standing by an open door. My mother laying on her back, as light drifts in through the white curtains, and settles on the bed next to her. She is crying, sobbing, hopelessly. against white curtains, which are flowing in springtime's cool light of the afternoon. "why are you crying mom, what can I do? Tell me what I can do." As sorrow runs, of the sheets, along the floor, and into me. -Hero- Dad and Me, drifting, beside a falling sun. So bright and orange, like a cream-pop. Highwaymen, plays on the radio. Dad is choked up, crying. My eyes are in amazement, at what they see, "a hero!" - A silent tear - We're leaving now! Running side by side. oh boy, the end of a school year, my friend and I, Calli. am I an annoyance? I like to be. what else is a friend? to be. I love to be. What? They are here to pick...

I would love to know! What is won? In Victory. And not over man. ---- Nowhere in this sea of sorrow,   Which wades as sweet misery. Is there a sign, a light, to guide, My passage from. But only, one word, tragedy, that says, We are done. ---- Victory is a triumph over time, It is not won; only a song that is sung. by a soul set free, at last to be. ----

I am Gay, and I love your chest. because it opens up, air within mine. and spins, and twirls my breath, in what feels like, a heavenly blend, or rest and ecstasy. I am gay, because I see your strength, strong man. Is made in your legs. Which I long to have around me. I am gay, because I am a bull, which trots and shakes, all for you. I am gay. I am gay. and I no longer afraid.

Windmills, giant, white feathers, that caress the earth and sky. What are we, Desire, made by. Energy? of or a wish, between earth and sky.

The mountain, One tree, to another,  Grove. Over each stone, I... On big stone, out of earth has grown? And they say, Will fall, crumbling, with the wind, that's blown. A river, and forest bed. The antlers of a deer, A white skull Now dead A wasp on a redish flower! Mountain A whole, much more, than it's parts. So deep, and live, And mysterious.

Out from a well, that bares a message, that all can tell: love. Love as a stream, cool, upon your heat it fell. But who was there to tell? --- Soul, neglected, it still feels your betrayal. Lack, may swell, fester, like a itch. America's fever pitch! Anxious to become, with not enough for bail. Remember when you threw yourself in it's wake! When all life, did reach out and yell! "Go now! Risk it all, and tip the scale." you did bruise: browning, or blackening, or bluing: not appealing, nor in good taste: The body, body live and boisterous space, now empty: haunted, by desires you could never quell! Burden, rather than, ship set sail! Hidden shame like a hundred weights up your back, and bell! --- Patience, my sweet-heart. You cannot steal life's jewel. A slow realization: soul is you and not you: duality of poetry,  it breaks hearts. so it seems; something to eat: gruel. --- Pain is a room, in which we all must dwell. --- Although, I...

Will I lay you there? moving down, past your heart; through, to hold your fingers, fair.  May I look upon your breast? you're valued crest,  may we have each-other near?  in warmth, of life's cold rain: blooming as the orchids dear. Sweet lover, sister near. May I allay, with my gentle hand, your fear?

a float, a parchment snake, large as a city street. Carried on sticks, by young and old alike. Vibrant: pink, green, yellow! a pig, black as oil. Made of slick stone. Inside of which, a belly burns of fire. blazing, needing constant wood. Then comes! Darting to and fro, paper doves, held aloft their rafters, by string. thrown by children, whom can run through, and hold them between two fingers a cat, black and blue. Lizards, Gecko, and Frogs, all flat, waved at people to keep off the heat. a procession of black clothed, mostly girls. Standing in lines, watched by no one. Groups of orange men, dancing in strength and vigilance. then comes the mannequins. an angelic form, and demonic form, a human form: all reaching out needing penance paid in flowers, or beads, or money. On this grand and holy night, children sing and dance, parents roll and delight. All is colorful, in form and light. ---- This is written as a protest

Listen. To This. Give me a ladder. Never a Kiss. -Fuck America- I dreamed three times. That my heart would explode, and my engine, would fail on your load. What carries over, is the burden among burdens. Born, and Born again. As a moon rises, over mount. To step it's hand, into doubt.

Mighty Star, out in the dark. over flowing hills of blue, by side. you dart to & fro, this is your art a dream, and heat is your heart.