Monday, March 31, 2014

The End...

3.31  Journey’s End

Rest now sweet muse
whose weary arms
have carried me
have dragged me
have shoved me
all of these days
some more frequent
some less eloquent
to this point
this precipice
of windswept rock
where sheep do not 
dare to graze

I turn to look toward
the beginning
my back to the abyss
my face to 
that bustling month
which stretched on for 
twelve
each endeavor a small flag
stuck wherever it might hold
rock outcropping
clump of heather
barren valley so unwelcoming
a hammer couldn’t have 
planted the flag
and the line of fluttering soldiers
so white
so fragile
could lead me back there
to that mewling pup
whose photo I still carry

instead I turn again
to the wind and the
fury of the sea
before me
and shout back
until I feel my words
gathering like wings
and the lift is so tremendous
so terrifying
so brutal
so beautiful.

###

This marks the end of my year of poetry.  

Out

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Home Stretch...

3.1  Crossing Over

Beings on a higher plane
painted on a stone slab
grounded here for service
until spirit shoves wide
the false door
revealing a land to which
we are all bound
and makes our stored jars
of bread and beer and jewels
seem foolish
when all we ever needed
to pack was words.

###

3.2  Prison Break

And even the hyacinth—
that dreadful poeticism—
would be welcomed
like the father and his
only fatted calf
if only this winter
would fling wide the gate
on Spring’s prison and
return her full-bosomed
and smiling as if she had
never been behind those
cold steel bars.

###

3.3  Trucking

Tethered to the machine
by a vague guilt
a “should” like the one scrawled
on the note kept
stuck to the wall
above this battered desk
but this one not stricken
at least not yet
perhaps after twenty-seven
seeds germinate and sprout
then the spring will come
but how can we make it there
without this glorious sun?

###

3.4  Heathers

That razor wire drawl
draws even this man
into the squint
of a gun barrel
to be launched in a twist
directly into the bare chest
of a man who only wanted
what everyone wants
an easy road
and some head—
even if it’s shared.


###

Friday, February 14, 2014

I've Been Silent, But Productive...

2.6  Now Here

Hurtling through infinity
black as light’s leaving
it strives to arrive
on time and in fashion
but those of us who sit
and pray grow weary
in this garden of light
eyes straining for boundary
made indecipherable
by glare and gleam
and you are nowhere.

###

2.7  Deteriorata

Your silence fills my mindspace
packing my ears with wax
and sealing the night’s end
a deaf bickering match
over dessert unplanned
but not unrehearsed
where no one can win
but those who wish us ill
and their ilk
and tomorrow
will begin with fresh hurt
and new reasons
for silence when so many words
are dying to be spoken
waiting to go unheard.

###

2.8 A Poem Without Looking

Forced merriment for your sake
breaks my back and shoulders
with want for silence
and a single cool glass
filled three quarters
full of water and one quarter 
with ice and in my country
where I don’t scream at you
until my throat fragments
and you don’t insist on being constant
in your vigilance of feeling
that is not too much to ask.

###

2.9  Tarot

The seven of swords
tell me to take
a higher road than he
who lives in same scarcity
while the time is right
for whatever plans
a man at my junction
is supposed to have
and yet even with
a lifetime of choices behind
and nothing but an open field
leading me to a mountain
blue with the glow of success
I shuffle the possibilities
under the table
and hope no one needs
to consult my cards
until I find the Fool.

###

2.10  Ditty

Perhaps mine to envy
to study and to paint
to measure against the present
and to weigh against the fade
but never mine to hold
to hear a heartbeat fast
to make a life inside of
Now you’re only in the past.

###

2.11  For Robb

It’s something about your eyes
the way they gleam
when you’re amused
the crinkles at the corner
and those cheeks
that I can’t always see
because your hands 
are over them with fingers
in your nose
and your feet padding in place

It’s something about your shoes
warm and loose
and tucked right nearby
when I just need to run out
to grab the mail
or toss the trash
that makes me feel
like curling up in your lap
and staying there forever

It’s something about your shape
strong and stable
with just enough here
and not too much there
something to hug and to bump against
when words just won’t do
and which makes you look killer
in a pair of jeans 
and a backpack
and that sparkle in your eyes.

###

2.12  Miscommunicate

Gloaming glaring catch
of language not delivered
like it was received
each skip a greater bump until
we’re sailing through intersections
barely missing each other
head on and all you can do
is clam up and look at me
as if I’m the one 
who has the problem here.

###

2.13  Tremulo

Scissors’ snick
and shearing chill
though BTUs are high
this afternoon an early gift
from sky and sun remote
and I
am transformed from shell
to shell
as if godmother in her blue
and pink
waved it so
instead of planning and pondering
nights without sleep
and you next to me
making sounds you never 
make awake.

###

2.14  Valentine

A Saint without a mantle
his own tossed aside
a conglomeration of hearts
and dried petals blown from
who knows everywhere
and this scrap of card leftover
the only thing to make him smile
as if greatest treasure found
in this rubbish heap
were not still out there
waiting on discovery
and an attempt at happiness
today
when I never did despair
another year.


###

Friday, February 7, 2014

Catching Up with Time...

2.5  Cupid Cometh

The day approaches
and still the stone lies
over my well’s mouth
barring access to what I know
lurks just underneath
beneath whatever scum
has formed or found its way
into the basin we built
if only I can budge it
roll the stone away
and scoop the clearest dipper
to raise to your thirsty lips.

###

2.6  Now Here

Hurtling through infinity
black as light’s leaving
it strives to arrive
on time and in fashion
but those of us who sit
and pray grow weary
in this garden of light
eyes straining for boundary
made indecipherable
by glare and gleam
and you are nowhere.

###

2.7  Deteriorata

Your silence fills my mindspace
packing my ears with wax
and sealing the night’s end
a deaf bickering match
over dessert unplanned
but not unrehearsed
where no one can win
but those who wish us ill
and their ilk
and tomorrow
will begin with fresh hurt
and new reasons
for silence when so many words
are dying to be spoken

waiting to go unheard.

###

Out

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Rude Poetry for...

2.4  Farewell

Another book with cover opened
cover closed
replaced on shelf
and no light left burning
in the stacks
with a promise
keep in touch
built on no intention
and less than polite desire
formality
for a table evenly spaced
with chairs set round
full of mannequins
self-important and blustering
after the lights are out
as if they had any intention
of listening to voices
that might find their was
into those plastic ears
when all they die to do
is talk.


###

Out

Monday, February 3, 2014

Not So Routine...

2.3  February Morning

An afterworld chill
hangs like velvet curtains
across the living room
knocking from my shoulders
the warm cloak of bed
and the sparrows
calling out sanctuary
from the top of my
wall unit air conditioner
draws me like it does them
until all that lies between
is one thin wall
and the same 
desire for warmth
which brought us here.

###

Out

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Musing On the End...

2.1  At Home

Couch awash in the same
golden light
draped across easy chairs
and that sumptuous dinner
table arrangement
cannot last forever

the swirl of wind-whipped 
ice pelting the glass
behind drawn curtains
points to inevitability
a hard fact our soft minds reject
despite its veracity

street lights cannot compare
with this lampshade glow
drizzling honey on every surface
until this life’s memories 
have no choice but to stick
and we wonder
if a single one of them can
follow us into that night
from where not one has written.


###

Out