“sadness of those unschooled in the bottles’ gloom”
–Rene Char, Poets
Tonight, I hold my shape
tenuously, like a rabbit,
tense, on the edge
of a field: hold tight
in silence, or flee
into the brush?
(January 22, 2020)
quandary
Category: despair
Lightning Ignites the Core of a Tree
All around him, the forest burns,
uncontrolled, beautiful.
The warmth reassures him
with its certainty.
His fingers burn; the flesh
chars as on a spit.
He turns, searching;
but she is gone, if ever
she were truly there.
He stands alone,
arms outstretched.
Flames leap through the trees;
smoke swallows the sky.
(December 10, 2019)
A Disappointing Session at the English Teacher Conference
I am here
I am here abuzz on coffee
I am impatient with the speaker who is reading her power points to us
I am a reader, as is everyone in this room
this is an English teacher conference after all
the power point is structured like an academic research article
I only know this because once
I was, or wanted to be, an academic
I am a teacher
I understand research and its power
I want my students to feel this power
The presenter has stopped reading her power point
a student of the presenter has stood to witness
he was successful, he feels transformed
so he is transformed
another student stands to witness
she too was successful-
and transformed-
Bless Us Jesus-
which no one said, but they could have
or did say without being religious
or calling on Jesus
this presentation is a sales job
not just for the class on research
but for the presenter’s new book on research—
your students can feel this way too
BUY my BOOK
I’ve had too much coffee
and leave to find a restroom
(December 6, 2019)
The Commute Between Day and Dream
Lost amid the accusations
and misappropriations
in bars and vague hallways,
he wakes into his troubles
unable to disaggregate
his shadows from the dawn.
Behind him, they trail ribbons
of smoke, curling about his feet
like cats hunting rats,
whenever he stops to think.
From frozen puddles, old friends
and loves rise toward him;
their faces blurred beneath ice.
They then sink away, as quickly,
leaving him to shuffle his fingers
uncomfortably across the steering wheel
as he waits for the light to change.
(July 24, 2019)
After the Trigger’s Pulled
Blood spatter slurs
on wet tile:
rorschach blots
without interpretations
(June 29, 2019)
World Vision
He wanders
from wall to wall,
turning tightly
at all the corners.
There are no doors,
nor windows,
only walls;
no light
outside his dark.
(June 4, 2019)
Forced to Speak
Go down the occasions:
the tally marks of days,
weeks, months, years
ago when something
was said, or not
said, or done, or
not done– enough!
What happens when one
no longer has anything
to say; when language
has outstripped
one’s desire to speak?
I’m at an impasse
and fear my words.
(May 31, 2019)
