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 
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.  


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.