---
The rose is aghast.
Its long-last war
with snow, over
and it peeks out
its petaled
eyes. sees this
world so
wonderful, so
bright, so
new.
spring.
remembers longer
nights, and
darker hours,
dreams of
shorter days,
chaos and
thorns -
piercing its
skin.
hides from the
light, and
recoils in its
fright, the
white, blind and
white, all is
white -
startling white.
it shivers and
returns to
white.
----
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
Red
---
I'm
seeing-red.
Tread careful,
colors becoming
bred in discontent,
armies marching forth
into the night, oh night.
And those who draw near,
crashing thunder come and
reflect upon this early air,
fire as cool as wet morning dew
dripping down from bayonets.
War bells ring, like bells from
the old church, priests rising in
royal-red robes to bless the
sacrificial lambs.
Dread the dawn,
pall-bearers meet the field
and join the procession
and the fight.
Blushing cheeks in winter-cold.
Memories of lips
stained in cherry-blossoms.
Little dresses.
Camping trips.
Lipstickkiss.
Flamingdrip.
Breathing.
Passion's
whick.
Red the coat of
the dead.
----
Black
----
Awake the earthworm who
sleeps without knowing when
light has come - all is
dark, blackness of
dirt and coughing syrup in
his throat
long tube cut up in choppy-
dots, polka-dots, white and
black coffee beans so
keep me awake, oh coffee
beans -
decaf is not for me, blackness
by deft design, blackness
which doesn't hide the
grin you kept in
side that grim and grimy
place, digging
up into the starless
night sky.
Wake me, I slumber in
light.
It wasn't a white cat that
passed me by -
Black as pepper, black as pitch,
black as black
Death - wrapped around
a telephone pole.
Wake me, I see the
grinning faces, shadow
toes tickling the
clown faces rippling in
dreams.
Wake me before I sleep,
oh darkness, come and
bring with you
God, he's been hiding
from me behind that
sparkling sun.
God who once said let
there be light;
but first there was,
black.
----
Awake the earthworm who
sleeps without knowing when
light has come - all is
dark, blackness of
dirt and coughing syrup in
his throat
long tube cut up in choppy-
dots, polka-dots, white and
black coffee beans so
keep me awake, oh coffee
beans -
decaf is not for me, blackness
by deft design, blackness
which doesn't hide the
grin you kept in
side that grim and grimy
place, digging
up into the starless
night sky.
Wake me, I slumber in
light.
It wasn't a white cat that
passed me by -
Black as pepper, black as pitch,
black as black
Death - wrapped around
a telephone pole.
Wake me, I see the
grinning faces, shadow
toes tickling the
clown faces rippling in
dreams.
Wake me before I sleep,
oh darkness, come and
bring with you
God, he's been hiding
from me behind that
sparkling sun.
God who once said let
there be light;
but first there was,
black.
----
Monday, April 2, 2012
I too, minority
---
I do not have the advantages of a woman.
I do not have breasts to compare to mounds of dirt or
a womb which ties me to mother-Earth, or
battered cheeks from bruising men, or
dreams of leaving home again
but bear with me, if you will
for I too, have words
and desires yet to
be fulfilled.
-----
I do not have the advantages of a woman.
I do not have breasts to compare to mounds of dirt or
a womb which ties me to mother-Earth, or
battered cheeks from bruising men, or
dreams of leaving home again
but bear with me, if you will
for I too, have words
and desires yet to
be fulfilled.
-----
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Visions from a dance floor
---
the way the dance works is to move to and fro, forward and back and
escape any sense of planning or prior consideration but rather
move with the groove, move with the smooth buttress roll
just go with the flow, the schoolkids said, or rather that's
what they're rumored to have said.
the steps are pitter-patter, then shatter-shatter, forget that you ever knew
something of a different beat, just move and greet the one to you're
right, then dance a little to the one to you're left, soldier-boy, soldier-boy
or is it soulja boy they said?
I don't know these beats, don't know these rhythms, never really did but
I move with them to the right, to the left, down below then back up, up, up
and dipping down into the ground like you always had done before, or so
they tell you so, they tell you so.
the world moves to a certain groove, they say, you gotta move up then
down, then all around and follow the steps of a stranger's voice, they say
that heaven is for fools and work for cowards, and only the brave meet
the dance floor, and so we groove, and we are all sinners who make this
world into something it was never meant to be.
------
the way the dance works is to move to and fro, forward and back and
escape any sense of planning or prior consideration but rather
move with the groove, move with the smooth buttress roll
just go with the flow, the schoolkids said, or rather that's
what they're rumored to have said.
the steps are pitter-patter, then shatter-shatter, forget that you ever knew
something of a different beat, just move and greet the one to you're
right, then dance a little to the one to you're left, soldier-boy, soldier-boy
or is it soulja boy they said?
I don't know these beats, don't know these rhythms, never really did but
I move with them to the right, to the left, down below then back up, up, up
and dipping down into the ground like you always had done before, or so
they tell you so, they tell you so.
the world moves to a certain groove, they say, you gotta move up then
down, then all around and follow the steps of a stranger's voice, they say
that heaven is for fools and work for cowards, and only the brave meet
the dance floor, and so we groove, and we are all sinners who make this
world into something it was never meant to be.
------
Voyeur to heartache
--------
---------
Voyeur to heartache
I heard it from my apartment window,
"oh I hate you, oh how I hate you"
and sobbing tears that bore upon the wind and
fluttered like paper cuttings of dead trees
forming the shallow graves of deadening dreams
and a sound of alarm within my soul
before I realized that this was the world
that stories like this are always told
that nothing new enters, that nothing old leaves
and returning to my regular haze
for there is no calm for the sane
in a chaotic world, tragedy rules
the center is on the outside and
the outside in the middle and
that is how it is, and was, and always shall be.
so says, this voyeur to heartache.
---------
Friday, March 30, 2012
Summer Heat
---------
the summer heat forces you to
repeal the layers used to protect and
return to that state in which you were born
sheetless, coverless, naked forms
outside the sky is grey and worn
as summer heat descends on early days
and drives the creatures back into their graves
sent scattering from sudden storms
against the broiling, rolling waves
the glittering crests of ships dipping and
form amidst the summer heat, a pink sky
recalls all beings to shallow swarms
from within blares the hollow sigh
of speakers, drumming meant to drown out the
world outside as two become one but in
vain - none escape the summer heat
-----
the summer heat forces you to
repeal the layers used to protect and
return to that state in which you were born
sheetless, coverless, naked forms
outside the sky is grey and worn
as summer heat descends on early days
and drives the creatures back into their graves
sent scattering from sudden storms
against the broiling, rolling waves
the glittering crests of ships dipping and
form amidst the summer heat, a pink sky
recalls all beings to shallow swarms
from within blares the hollow sigh
of speakers, drumming meant to drown out the
world outside as two become one but in
vain - none escape the summer heat
-----
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Truth
-----
----------
took a taxi cab from the airport to Denver
talked to the cabbie, said his kids
lived in Georgia, Savannah
had grown up and left
told him I was Catholic, my friend and I,
said he was Catholic too, before
he converted a month ago
he said it was about the food,
that they fed you better
in that Christian church
I smiled, mumbled something
about trying to find truth
'whatever you believe,
fine with me
as long as you truly
believe it'
but he simply shook his head,
at thirty years my senior knew
what a load of crap that was
for if that were the case
why if that were the case, then truth wouldn't
be any sort of thing at all,
now would it?
----------
Progress
--------
Upon once a time
the social designation
was that man should never fly,
yet man does fly.
Upon once a time
the crucial acclamation
was that man should never reach space,
yet man has shot past space,
and reached the moon.
Upon once a time
the voice of a hundred nations
declared that peace should never be,
and it has yet to be seen
and perhaps, it shall never be
But though the law of gravity is to bring things down,
it is the instinct of man to rise.
-----------
Upon once a time
the social designation
was that man should never fly,
yet man does fly.
Upon once a time
the crucial acclamation
was that man should never reach space,
yet man has shot past space,
and reached the moon.
Upon once a time
the voice of a hundred nations
declared that peace should never be,
and it has yet to be seen
and perhaps, it shall never be
But though the law of gravity is to bring things down,
it is the instinct of man to rise.
-----------
He sits
----------
He sits hanging from the dinosaur-skeleton
of the old railroad track that led over the hill but now,
leads over the stream and then disappears into space
with no destination assigned.
He sits hanging with his legs drooping low
having walked the path below, and finding that time
is ripe with the ripe of the great white peach in the sky
with no intimation designed.
He sits hanging in wondering awe and concern,
hearing the footsteps of those gone before and below
a thousand feet against the winding path beneath and
a thousand more to come.
He sits hanging, hanging, legs drooping low
With questions in mind but no answers to show and
the night pressing nearer and darker and shadows
arriving to join him.
He sits, wondering, seeing the great crowd below
and around him, and above him, and all those before
who had come to that place in the dark of the night
to ask the question of humanity's plight.
He sits, wondering, if ever the night
had answered a single man yet.
------
He sits hanging from the dinosaur-skeleton
of the old railroad track that led over the hill but now,
leads over the stream and then disappears into space
with no destination assigned.
He sits hanging with his legs drooping low
having walked the path below, and finding that time
is ripe with the ripe of the great white peach in the sky
with no intimation designed.
He sits hanging in wondering awe and concern,
hearing the footsteps of those gone before and below
a thousand feet against the winding path beneath and
a thousand more to come.
He sits hanging, hanging, legs drooping low
With questions in mind but no answers to show and
the night pressing nearer and darker and shadows
arriving to join him.
He sits, wondering, seeing the great crowd below
and around him, and above him, and all those before
who had come to that place in the dark of the night
to ask the question of humanity's plight.
He sits, wondering, if ever the night
had answered a single man yet.
------
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Between the crevasses of toes
Weird poem, then again, weird idea.
---
Sometimes he stayed in the shower too long,
not to get any cleaner, he
had been clean for nearly fifteen minutes now
by the general sense of the word
for no one can really, totally erase
those little bits of sand and
stains, between the
crevasses of
their toes
The faucet silver and the water cold,
but it began to heat up, and
soon he felt the scorching heat and pressure new
that became one sense, one sense alone
shshshshshsh-shashashashasha
ah-awe-ah-awe-ah-awe-wash
in between the
crevasses of
your toes
The salty grine and windswept sweat flaking,
falling to the dead-skin floor as
the snake's old cage replaced by freshly-laid silk
and rattling pebbles come crashing down
to join the sea of past-selves gone on-by from
that place he once wished to hide
in between the
crevasses of
his toes
But heat too must lose itself, and becomes cold
and vanishing, must now replace
With passion, solemnity, with fire, stillness
and garnish all space in sterile air
for no one can really, totally escape
for too long, anyway, the
solemn space in
the crevasses
of toes
And without the pounding shawl of water-fall,
he hears the city and the snakes,
which only serve to accentuate
the solemn space placed
within the crevasses
of toes
-------
---
Sometimes he stayed in the shower too long,
not to get any cleaner, he
had been clean for nearly fifteen minutes now
by the general sense of the word
for no one can really, totally erase
those little bits of sand and
stains, between the
crevasses of
their toes
The faucet silver and the water cold,
but it began to heat up, and
soon he felt the scorching heat and pressure new
that became one sense, one sense alone
shshshshshsh-shashashashasha
ah-awe-ah-awe-ah-awe-wash
in between the
crevasses of
your toes
The salty grine and windswept sweat flaking,
falling to the dead-skin floor as
the snake's old cage replaced by freshly-laid silk
and rattling pebbles come crashing down
to join the sea of past-selves gone on-by from
that place he once wished to hide
in between the
crevasses of
his toes
But heat too must lose itself, and becomes cold
and vanishing, must now replace
With passion, solemnity, with fire, stillness
and garnish all space in sterile air
for no one can really, totally escape
for too long, anyway, the
solemn space in
the crevasses
of toes
And without the pounding shawl of water-fall,
he hears the city and the snakes,
which only serve to accentuate
the solemn space placed
within the crevasses
of toes
-------
Monday, March 26, 2012
The cadaver's dare
This poem takes quotes from this article, on the trial of a teenager in Missouri who killed her nine-year-old neighbor. It definitely touches on darker themes, so if that scares you, don't read ahead:
----
The cadaver's dare
-----
----
The cadaver's dare
She was fifteen when she killed her neighbor,
a week before she wrote:
"If I don't talk about it, I bottle it up,
and when I explode someone's going to die"
She went to school for about a week and,
dug two graves, one round one square
"I just fucking killed someone," she said.
in the diary as she lay later in bed.
It wasn't such a difficult thing, she found
she learned enough in science class
incision middle, cut straight across, pull out
then tack it up - it's not so hard
"I strangled them and slit their throat," she wrote
blood still seeping beneath her skin,
"and stabbed them now they're dead," she ended proud
blood still crying from the dirt
It wasn't so difficult to see - she had seen
the white skin and glazed over eyes
In online scenes and movie screens
the pale grey stares of those who die
"I don't know how to feel atm," but she knew
that she had done no wrong
"It was ahmazing," for she knew that killing
was not such a difficult thing
"As soon as you get over the ohmygawd I can't do
this feeling, it's pretty enjoyable.
I'm kinda nervous and shaky though
right now."
And that night as she lay in her bed
slept peacefully, the rhyme in her head
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," it said
we all return to dust to join the dead
'Kay, I gotta go to church now...lol,"
the prosecution read
but the sermon had nothing to be said
for her or her neighbor,
or for any who are dead
Only the living are subject to justice
"If I could give my life to bring her back,
I would," said her three-year-older self
but she lied
for none return to earth
of their own accord
-----
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Here the truest parts of me
Read "here the frailest leaves of me" by Walt Whitman, if you want a bit of a background for this
---
They always said not to judge
a book by its cover and yet
I know that others see me
at first glance, for what
I appear to be
The words on the page are
meant to be spoken, not -
the page just stores
what is meant to be
later said
The ink-splotched notes
in this book, in books
The yellow-worn pages
that all books become
are photographs
The poems I reach for now
the words, grasping
the thoughts here
finite as I
if you forget me, then
remember the words
I said for they
betray me
---
---
They always said not to judge
a book by its cover and yet
I know that others see me
at first glance, for what
I appear to be
The words on the page are
meant to be spoken, not -
the page just stores
what is meant to be
later said
The ink-splotched notes
in this book, in books
The yellow-worn pages
that all books become
are photographs
The poems I reach for now
the words, grasping
the thoughts here
finite as I
if you forget me, then
remember the words
I said for they
betray me
---
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Lover's Remorse
----
Ah, Love lay low against the gallow's wood -
fall through, and be gone from these hands
well-worn, have borne this callous pain
upon the widowed restless street
Love billows up and blows away
gone, gone, but remnants stay
splintering heart that doesn't know
but in this moment, truth does show
away, away is best for me
best for grieving
best for peace
----
Ah, Love lay low against the gallow's wood -
fall through, and be gone from these hands
well-worn, have borne this callous pain
upon the widowed restless street
Love billows up and blows away
gone, gone, but remnants stay
splintering heart that doesn't know
but in this moment, truth does show
away, away is best for me
best for grieving
best for peace
----
To Alexandra
did some small edits to it, but its mostly the same
-----
Oh, Alexandra, what brings you to the hotel window?
is it the nightwind that draws you in,
escaping breath that calls you to join it?
if it said your name would you accept it,
just close your eyes and choose to bear it?
Against those naked beaches and sandy shores
footsteps - pressing - against those gone before
I hear the crashing waves too, hear their roar
and you, your solemn glance, dreaming forth
What questions pressed against your chest - I wonder
what questions, what pressing inner thunder?
and behind teardrop eyes so fair
does the truth hide beneath your stare?
Muddled wine reveals so little that
Muddled minds can understand
But something within glittered more than that seashell shore,
more than your windswept hair, and the burden you bore
more than your lips divine or solemn gait
more than simple words can equate
Because beneath it all there is a truth,
that calls you to the hotel window
against the roaring ocean tide
that calls me to wonder, if I may
against the roaring ocean tide
that even as you look out
for beauty's sake
I too, look upon you
for beauty's sake
I wonder if you'd look on me
the way you look out on that sea
for that desperate longing
for something out there
the tragedy of existence
is the reason we care.
--------
-----
Oh, Alexandra, what brings you to the hotel window?
is it the nightwind that draws you in,
escaping breath that calls you to join it?
if it said your name would you accept it,
just close your eyes and choose to bear it?
Against those naked beaches and sandy shores
footsteps - pressing - against those gone before
I hear the crashing waves too, hear their roar
and you, your solemn glance, dreaming forth
What questions pressed against your chest - I wonder
what questions, what pressing inner thunder?
and behind teardrop eyes so fair
does the truth hide beneath your stare?
Muddled wine reveals so little that
Muddled minds can understand
But something within glittered more than that seashell shore,
more than your windswept hair, and the burden you bore
more than your lips divine or solemn gait
more than simple words can equate
Because beneath it all there is a truth,
that calls you to the hotel window
against the roaring ocean tide
that calls me to wonder, if I may
against the roaring ocean tide
that even as you look out
for beauty's sake
I too, look upon you
for beauty's sake
I wonder if you'd look on me
the way you look out on that sea
for that desperate longing
for something out there
the tragedy of existence
is the reason we care.
--------
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Let us return
---
let us return to the place where
the careful plans of man lay bare
the twisted trees are not so fair
beneath the crashing thunder's stare
let us return to the place deep
beneath the solemn willow's weep
and borne against the shadow keep
casting down the darkening steep
for rest finds itself in darkness
in keeping secrets, in closed eyes
for peace finds breath amidst chaos
in comparisons to passion
so let's return to dreaming states
where greatness so solemnly waits
upon the shore of parting straits
where waves question our broken fates
---
let us return to the place where
the careful plans of man lay bare
the twisted trees are not so fair
beneath the crashing thunder's stare
let us return to the place deep
beneath the solemn willow's weep
and borne against the shadow keep
casting down the darkening steep
for rest finds itself in darkness
in keeping secrets, in closed eyes
for peace finds breath amidst chaos
in comparisons to passion
so let's return to dreaming states
where greatness so solemnly waits
upon the shore of parting straits
where waves question our broken fates
---
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Oh, pale faced oracle
----
Oh, pale-faced oracle of the night,
with shallow stars draped in finery
Oh, harkening witness of my plight
whose lips are crested by crimson light
Who else should know us,
the wolf, cries, but does not carry
the weight of reasoning upon its back
And neither does she,
upon whom my silent cry dwells,
without burden carried in her gait
Yet I should fall trembling to my knees
reckoning shackles tight to my chest
passion borne upon the winter breeze
then swept away in the tilting freeze
-----
Oh, pale-faced oracle of the night,
with shallow stars draped in finery
Oh, harkening witness of my plight
whose lips are crested by crimson light
Who else should know us,
the wolf, cries, but does not carry
the weight of reasoning upon its back
And neither does she,
upon whom my silent cry dwells,
without burden carried in her gait
Yet I should fall trembling to my knees
reckoning shackles tight to my chest
passion borne upon the winter breeze
then swept away in the tilting freeze
-----
Monday, February 27, 2012
My everlasting optimism
---
I used to climb trees when I was younger
and from those heights, I saw my life
unfolding with splendor.
The wind, it shook against my leafy loft
but still I stood and rose above
to delve into my thought.
And from my pensive perch I discovered,
that one dream I now recognize
you, the one uncovered.
Then, within my heart, up-stirred a desire,
so strong, burning flame devoured
all other whims - now higher.
I stepped my way down from that tree one day,
I grew up and saw my world change
but always you remain.
And now that you stand before me so close,
my life, explained, with your embrace,
no longer tied to woes.
I wonder though if all dreams did fade
if you would return to what I once had,
my everlasting optimism -
as if you never were
-----
I used to climb trees when I was younger
and from those heights, I saw my life
unfolding with splendor.
The wind, it shook against my leafy loft
but still I stood and rose above
to delve into my thought.
And from my pensive perch I discovered,
that one dream I now recognize
you, the one uncovered.
Then, within my heart, up-stirred a desire,
so strong, burning flame devoured
all other whims - now higher.
I stepped my way down from that tree one day,
I grew up and saw my world change
but always you remain.
And now that you stand before me so close,
my life, explained, with your embrace,
no longer tied to woes.
I wonder though if all dreams did fade
if you would return to what I once had,
my everlasting optimism -
as if you never were
-----
Of foreign tongues
--
S'il vous plait, mi
lover's heart folds
Perdon! Perdon!
Hello, goodbye
the skylark cries,
"Oi, Oi"
And I hear the horns,
blaring out tribal
bonjours
But cross the rhine,
A window-pane:
"Halo. Doner."
and promises of
dankutschen,
"Halo. Doner!"
dankutschen,
halo.
danke.
-----
S'il vous plait, mi
lover's heart folds
Perdon! Perdon!
Hello, goodbye
the skylark cries,
"Oi, Oi"
And I hear the horns,
blaring out tribal
bonjours
But cross the rhine,
A window-pane:
"Halo. Doner."
and promises of
dankutschen,
"Halo. Doner!"
dankutschen,
halo.
danke.
-----
My would be lover...
---
My would be lover
what if I asked you of love?
would you say you knew it once,
perhaps even twice?
did your lips utter those three clicks –
I.
click.
love.
click.
you.
click.
to every man you met?
I. love. you.
I speak to you and ask of love,
and I wonder if I hear you
say;
“I love you,”
or rather,
I.
click.
love.
click.
you.
click.
as you did to the last one
you now seek to
forget.
----
My would be lover
what if I asked you of love?
would you say you knew it once,
perhaps even twice?
did your lips utter those three clicks –
I.
click.
love.
click.
you.
click.
to every man you met?
I. love. you.
I speak to you and ask of love,
and I wonder if I hear you
say;
“I love you,”
or rather,
I.
click.
love.
click.
you.
click.
as you did to the last one
you now seek to
forget.
----
Just a great line...
Not a poem, per say, but a line I thought up and didn't want to forget as I am wont to do:
"Ah, love, what a broken promise you turned out to be!"
There. It's written. Now I will have it in the future.
"Ah, love, what a broken promise you turned out to be!"
There. It's written. Now I will have it in the future.
Friday, February 24, 2012
To Arnold
-----
I am quiet tonight,
the world which seemed so bright,
so various, so new
now exposed by dawn's light
trembling, tumbling within
and in desperate flight
I turn back to the night
old, familiar friend
and wait now for the fall
to begin once again
-----
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Tombstone
------
The soft autumn gloom remains there
dripping on the drooping dews
the smell of pine in the chill air
and plummets on the valley fair
I heard a great sycamore fall
felt the shudder against my chest
the wind carried the solemn drawl
of past regrets, of ghoulish calls
The sea nearby in roaring gait
restless, soulless, dreaming braces
tie twine and string to death's due fate
teasing movement, orders me, “wait!”
And though I'd choose to leave that place,
that rumbling, torrid whirlpool heart
the haunting lips of that voice trace
the confines of my inner space
The stone that stands in ground alone
the same seen many years ago
the bold, type-face, and chilling drone
of amazing grace, and her death,
tombstone.
----
She must have been loved
------
We do not think that we might die
We do not think at all, really
We breathe, we move...
from want of excess
to want of scarcity
Never balanced, always tipping
over the edge
Until someone walks by our tombstone
and says,
"She must have been loved."
We do not think that we might die
We do not think at all, really
We breathe, we move...
from want of excess
to want of scarcity
Never balanced, always tipping
over the edge
Until someone walks by our tombstone
and says,
"She must have been loved."
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Fluctuation
------
Lay lo! the crashing gates
of winding darkness drawing near
come to us who wait.
Did you? the banner bard,
spoke of dreaming decisions at night
and whispers fading.
Hear ye! who wouldn't choose
the way of the warrior over the defeated
and drink blood aplenty.
For he! who said the world
was bright and real and round and full
knew nothing of it.
In us? are two spirits
the poet and the scientist
fluctuating fog
----
Lay lo! the crashing gates
of winding darkness drawing near
come to us who wait.
Did you? the banner bard,
spoke of dreaming decisions at night
and whispers fading.
Hear ye! who wouldn't choose
the way of the warrior over the defeated
and drink blood aplenty.
For he! who said the world
was bright and real and round and full
knew nothing of it.
In us? are two spirits
the poet and the scientist
fluctuating fog
----
"You Sung a Song"
“You sung a song”
-----
“You sung a song”
You sung a song as I drew near
amidst my foggy edges drear
and tired words became alive
and hired hearts again did strive
the passion found between us there
The world outside was nearing dark
but deep inside, warm was the hearth
in sudden peaceful pleasure lay
gone the crusting remains of day
the world not privy to the heart
And as the time eclipsed all thought
When words gave way to dreaming wrought
by night and dawn's approaching glare
by toil and sweat's demanding wear
Imagining my lucky lot
Oh, day, which broke for the first time
Upon that wintry morning fine
I saw a light and hanging limb
The snowy steps implanted dim
'round the lamppost saw a bend
I wondered should I take that turn
Or take another, or adjourn
this winter walk within the wood
and capture some warmth, if I could
with what little worth I had earned
But something seen within that place
Held the promise for broken grace
that comes to a man like me but
once; breaking the burdensome rut
expanding man's humble space
So I took that first step forward
Into the path that moved toward
love that envelops, then expands
love that develops, then demands
perfect attention, dreaming blurred
And now I wake and hold you close
And watch the flick'ring flaming dose
of passion's whick fading to grey
but still, I am prone now to stay
enraptured in you and in prose
linger a moment longer, here.
Monday, February 20, 2012
-----
The starry night unfolds itself to me,
The wood, it seems, to be a great wide dome
Opening and unfurling to the sky
A beautiful mystery to describe
The bubbling brook beside us wails,
Melancholic, yet natural in its trails
We feel its wet upon our toes,
We feel its beat upon us grow
The cataclysmic clash of light on dark,
Of lampposts illuminating the wooden bark
It shines upon us through the cracks
And breathless, we are left to gasp
The beauty amidst the terror of night,
Reveals itself to us, but rather than in fright
We see the single, perfect moment there
And upon it, lingering, we stare
Two people, under a starry night it seems
Would not be such a special thing
But in the darkness it is hard to hide,
The beautiful imystery, we describe.
------
Of Apocalyptic Things
----
A bunch of drunk kids
barging in at 4:00 a.m.
yelling and screaming
at the top of their lungs
I imagine that the end of the world
is a lot like this
and playing music
as loudly as
they can.
----
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Time stops
----
You were singing,
I was there
Words still floating,
in the air
Your eyes piercing,
through me
Your words cutting,
past me
Time stops,
no really, it did
Time stops,
I don't know how
Time stops,
And in that moment
Time stops,
everything changes
Before I saw you,
but now I see
you
----
You were singing,
I was there
Words still floating,
in the air
Your eyes piercing,
through me
Your words cutting,
past me
Time stops,
no really, it did
Time stops,
I don't know how
Time stops,
And in that moment
Time stops,
everything changes
Before I saw you,
but now I see
you
----
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The greatest pain of all
-----
I have seen the world anew,
then watched it fall from grace
I have spoken in thunder
and wept in pouring rain
I have entered in silence,
where only sheep await
I have walked among people,
who failed to see my face
I have spoken to wise men
as they spit, in disgrace
I have come into the world,
but with no favor met
I have pressed the thorns against
the crown of my torn head
I have borne the pain of all
who later cursed my name
I have seen the world crumble,
only desolate remains
But nothing quite so painful,
as unrequitted love
---------
I have seen the world anew,
then watched it fall from grace
I have spoken in thunder
and wept in pouring rain
I have entered in silence,
where only sheep await
I have walked among people,
who failed to see my face
I have spoken to wise men
as they spit, in disgrace
I have come into the world,
but with no favor met
I have pressed the thorns against
the crown of my torn head
I have borne the pain of all
who later cursed my name
I have seen the world crumble,
only desolate remains
But nothing quite so painful,
as unrequitted love
---------
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Gone!
--------
I hear the crash of thunder
like a thousand little gongs
announcing the arrival
of the end to lifelong songs
I hear the footsteps crumbling,
the ground beneath their feet
I hear the smell of burning,
choking as they meet.
Gone! the wind comes
and sweeps away the desert street
Gone! the sound calls
and lingers to the crowning beat
Gone!
to whispers in the alley
Gone!
to shadows in my dreaming
Gone!
Gone!
Gone!
Gone!
--------
I hear the crash of thunder
like a thousand little gongs
announcing the arrival
of the end to lifelong songs
I hear the footsteps crumbling,
the ground beneath their feet
I hear the smell of burning,
choking as they meet.
Gone! the wind comes
and sweeps away the desert street
Gone! the sound calls
and lingers to the crowning beat
Gone!
to whispers in the alley
Gone!
to shadows in my dreaming
Gone!
Gone!
Gone!
Gone!
--------
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Would I
------
Would I have the whole world to give,
Yet it wouldn't be enough for us.
Would I have the stars and the moon instead,
still fate's grasp would linger on.
Would mountains rise from the earth, no -
Would the sea rise and fall and cease to be,
still, my love, would it not be enough.
Would I spent my whole life searching,
I would never find such solace,
Would I relive that night, night after night,
for the rest of my life, it shouldn't be
Would fate exist and heaven declare it true
I still wonder of me and you.
Would I have stayed there...
Never left. Never gone.
Would I have traversed time,
Until that fateful moment when I said goodbye
I should wonder that maybe then
we could be together.
Would I never have left, what might have been.
----------
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Caffeine
---------
My caffeine-addled brain,
My coffee bleeding heart
forming black stains on
the mahogany table
seeping through
like weeping,
like falling
drip
drip
dri-p
dr--ip
d---rip
stop.
-------
On Darkness
On Darkness
---------
There is a blue light
outside of my apartment window,
So that when I sleep,
there is never pitch-blackness
But, instead, ever pale
blueness
But I guess blue
Can also be another
sort of
darkness.
-----------
---------
There is a blue light
outside of my apartment window,
So that when I sleep,
there is never pitch-blackness
But, instead, ever pale
blueness
But I guess blue
Can also be another
sort of
darkness.
-----------
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