no stories to tell
but the same ones
the ones i’ve told
the ones I’ve heard
from mothers, from sisters
fathers, brothers
the ones hidden in ritual
the ones not in the tale
yet somehow parallel
(November9, 2024)
Category: chant
-
He slips through the dusty streets
delaying his departure from sorrow.
What wisdom isthis wisdom?
The Sorceress’s warm breath at his earsoftly offers her seductive charms.
What wisdom isthis wisdom?
The priest offers redemptive prayersin patterns to protect him.
What wisdom isthis wisdom?
At both the chancery and brothel doorshe laughs like a nascent breeze.
Which wisdom ishis wisdom?
(May 9, 2022) -
The cracks proved the power
of words. Such spells cast
across the fissures formed
fears of a painful death.
Who would be willing to test
this hypothesis on one so dear?
Her survival, by correlation,
confirmed the childish chant.
She lived. Not writhing on
the floor, vertebrae shattered,
just oblivious to your heroic
leaping, like a hopscotch knight,
from slab to concrete slab
to save your one true love.
(December 5, 2019)
-
He picks up a rock,
He puts it down.
He picks up a rock,
He puts it down.
He tells himself:
Don’t pick it up;
He picks up the rock,
He puts it down.
He tells himself
He is stupid—
He tells himself
Not to say such things.
He tells himself
He is stupid
For saying such things,
Then says them again.
He tells himself
Don’t pick it up.
He picks up the rock,
And puts it down.
(October 15, 2018)
-
Sleight of Hand
by
abstract, audacity, change, chant, dream, erato, eros, hermenutics, hope, language, meaning, meditation, metaphor, poetry, traces, transition, ways of knowing, words, writing
I am talking to myself,
or projections of myself,
when I write these poems
to you. Either way,
the audience is oblivious—
focused on melodrama
with a simple plot
to turn attention
from my intent,
and your distractions.
(July 21, 2018)
-
the words were a way out
between the rigid definitions,
the expectations carved in cant
the words slipped along fault
line’s edges; the incongruous fissured
like water through the undefined
the words wore meaning there,
bare and taut, shrugging off
all social niceties for love
the words were love for the world:
the laughter of the sun rippling
the horizon further each day
words were a way to a salvation
from what I was not to become
(June 25, 2018)
-
Supplication
by
My mouth is my wound,
a stigmata of broken teeth
and words. My tongue’s slashed
like ribbons flapping
in the mountain’s wind.
My prayers snap violently
into the icy air’s silence.
I don’t know what to do
now: swallow my own
blood, and drown; or spit
my life onto the ground
to call forth a bitter
beast which I fear
will devour me whole?
(May 11, 2018)
-
“pale light by which it reads itself’–Michael Palmer, Light Moves 3almost morning almost nightthe cloudy day verges on raini know figures on the wall as walla cuneiform by which i’m accounteda permanence impressed to clayto which i’m owed as recompensei understand little i read nowthe words slur thick in my mouthinarticulate i shuffle a dancehoping my steps fall surebeneath this pale neon moontell me again i sing who i am(September 3, 2017) -
He stands within someone’s dream;It cannot be his own,For he is awake and chanting.The square is full; people watch,Distracted,As he starts to speak.They listen as if his wordsWere under waterTrapped in tangled weeds.He sees the words in air,And cannot questionHis own clarity.Without hope of redemption,He sees what he sees.(August 22, 2017) -
Do you seethe air thickenin thought?As she speaks,the light refractsthrough alla shimmer,like the moonupon a black lake.The words pull the worldtightly around us like skin,ecstatic and vibrant.Each soft chant:a new iteration.Each soft chant:a way away.Each soft chant:her mind’s kiss.(March 6, 2017) -
part of a life other thanyour own other than alonepart of a life to atone(December 29, 2016)
subtext 