four poems from "Sonnet, a renga"



the air forms to your body
without effort
I breathe you in
not so much a matter of will
as it’s a matter of will not
“a rose unfolds despite its beauty
the weed despite our disdain”
he longs and obsesses
as easily as she coyly
plays with her hair
laughing all the while
intent



(2011-2012, from Sonnet, a Renga)


Thee Poems from "Sonnet, a Renga"


after the storm
flowers grow
and bloom
yet again
Lisa and I, 1979
among the crepe myrtle
and spring flowers
of austin’s japanese garden
we would feast
on canned smoked oysters
cheap wine and each other
the world exists
in front of you
with luck
a peripheral sight 
expands you
enough to bend 
back upon your vision
to create a new sense 
of self that can see
how great a fool you are

(from “Sonnet, a Renga, 2011-2012)

Rhyme Pattern: ababcdcdefefgg


patience
is
a direction
another dance
before the night is done
circle slowly
around the room
think again
what might have been
intent
emerson’s eye
forms the circle
the first space
my life
in conversation
at table
with friends
strangers welcomed
wine flows
glasses clink
words weave
between
warp and woof
near the garden
a hint of roses
edges towards me
a presence
on the periphery
like a trace
of laughter
after
she has left
the room
fear weaves
like frost
we each bow down
to smell a different rose
I am other
and of course
he had heard
it all before
the stock lines
falling from lips
he longed to kiss
so what the words
meant escaped
unchanged by context
falling between them
like bricks to a wall
again a condensate forms on the glass
and a fog pulsates along the back fence
one of our cats slip between the pink ladies
hoping for more than our safe offering
within his sarcophagus
this tomb of words
he hid from the love
which would approach him
until he vanished from himself
a rabbit a few laps away
from the protective briar
sits still as his death
near a dandelion and waits
for her to notice him
true to himself
the chameleon’s skin
becomes him
we merge

from “Sonnet” (Lines 1-14, tenth syllables)


(December 17, 2011-February 21, 2012) 

from "Sonnet" line 12, Four poems

Frenzy
as if ariadne
unwound multiple
threads through
possible passages’
turns in time
to choose all
at once
then he waits for the moment
it takes the bud to open
a hesitation between heart beats
only in the tense demarcation
of the word left unvoiced
silence is no more silent
than the thrum of blood
heard while holding one’s breath
in a dark moonless forest
listening and waiting for the next
twig snap to anticipate his approach
Decision Point

a rabbit a few leaps away
from the protective briar
sits still as his death
near a dandelion and waits
for her to notice him

from “sonnet.” (work in progress, line 12, syllable 7-10)

(February 2-12)

from "Sonnet," line eleven

risk
a relative
analysis
more a will
to lose
one’s life
for a simple
kiss
each of your actions parse
long branching lines
like sentences
streaming across a razor’s
grammarian edge
each word spliced
obsessively to my life
look
my heart
unfolds
petals
fall

kneeling
on this garden path
I gather
what’s left
like soft flesh
to my hands
slowly
my fingertip
traces
the curve
of your breast

I follow what’s left here
like hounds hot on the scent
baying across a marsh
are these trails real
or am I distracted
by my own desires
so many layers to sift through
years of fluid sand
slowly swallowing with each step
all who blindly blundered into our past
he drowns in puddles
of his dreams
within his sarcophagus
this tomb of words
he hid from the love
which would approach him
until he vanished from himself




from “Sonnet,” (a work in progress, line 11, syllables 1-10)

(February 2012)

from "Sonnet," Four poems

Paranoid
through the frozen fields wolves prowl
I walk alone in the dark
afraid of each breath
true to the array before us
each crystalline spark
manifests its own harmony
we must walk slowly
through this field of fireflies
to feel these darkened wings
flutter across our faces
and alone
randomly
seemingly
without
reason
my eyes
well up
and I
weep
deeply
for days
again a condensate forms on the glass
and a fog pulsates along the back fence
one of our cats slip between the pink ladies
hoping for more than our safe offering

from “Sonnet,” line 10, syllables 7-10)

Five Poems from "Sonnet"

Echos Down the Hall
she imagines a story
from minutia to another
who spins it out again
thus the spider drains the fly
worn from the struggle
and loss of support
I once again pick up
the scraps of my life
and start to sew
she pricks her finger
and watches the blood
form a red bead
she thinks as in a dream
of moving but can’t
yet does anyway
she winks and wakes
as if by a lover’s kiss
to a world already here
and of course
he had heard
it all before
the stock lines
falling from lips
he longed to kiss
so what the words
meant escaped
unchanged by context
falling between them
like bricks to a wall

from “Sonnet,” (work in progress, line 9, syllables 6-10)

(February 2012)

Ten Poems from "Sonnet," line Seven


 Half
what’s missing he thinks is what’s wrong
tell me what’s there to work with she asks
both see the same flower before them
neither see the same flower before them
it is the glass which frames the problem
with one step
we cross a border
such a brave new world
traveling all night from Nice to Rome
we stepped sleepily into the city street
dazzled by the morning sun
and the speed of the foreign tongue
we were suddenly surrounded
then robbed by gypsy children
what gets taken
each time I see you
whatever vague thoughts
trouble my heart
only to return
as you depart
the frame of the door
the walls of this room
the language one uses
define a space that is
non-existent on its own
an absence 
an opening
a new thought 
a word
there is an art to hiding
in the open to exposing
yourself while you maintain
your sense of self
to move like waves of wind
across a field of wheat
one must let go of the earth
and dance with the air
he holds the brush
before the canvas
lost in thought
where to from here
one step
then another
trust
is a process
there is no end
the door closes slowly
I stand
indecisive
afraid of my choices
where are you now
it’s cold outside
fear weaves
like frost


(January 2012)

Three Poems from "Sonnet"

I woke
then walked
into fog
rising
from the nearby creek
to shroud the trees
and street
as if
in clothes
of the dead
the bald ugliness
of each day’s
exchange
watched
nearby
so we go on
fumbling down
the trail
in the dark
our hands fall
on rough bark
and we look up
beyond the black leaves
somewhere
above the trees
the moon flows quietly
unseen
behind clouds
beneath the talk
I swim my past
drowning in shallows
(from “Sonnet,”  a work in progress, Second Quatrain, first line, syllables 1,2 and 3)


(January 2012)



from "Sonnet," (work in progress, third line)

memory is creative
filling in between
the shadow and the light
something new between
what is thought
and what is seen
– –
now
exists
on the cusp
of when
– –
such naïve terms:
still I wake
into a new sun
to wrestle my crystalline fears
with love and hope
for they shield
my metaphorical heart
as I naively long
to see
her eyes come
for me
– –
so many unspoken words
(like limits of secret pacts
these borders we cannot cross
without learning  new language)
to speak to one another
– –
To find water at a stop in the alps
I jumped off the train
going from Vienna to Venice.
Lisa called to hurry,
flakes sparkled the night like stars;
I danced with snow for the second time.
– –
then there
you are
already
within
the familiar
– –
the air forms to your body
without effort
I breathe you in
– –
not so much a matter of will,
as it’s a matter of will not.
– –
a rose unfolds despite its beauty;
the weed despite our disdain:
he longs and obsesses
as easily as she coyly
plays with her hair
while laughing at him
– –
intent
(December 2011)