Stop talking. Listen:
eventually someone will speak
to fill the irredeemable silence.
(July 29, 2026)
Category: restraint
-
I box them up—
one as flat
as another,
as only our
equivocations
can be believed.
I box them up—pack each tight
into darker,
smaller boxes,
until I can
no longer move.
I box them up—so they cannot fly
deeper and deeper
into a stranger hell
where all we fear
festers with hope.
(April 20, 2016)
-
In my darkness, where I will not look,
live the parts of me I do not wish to know.
I sense their vague shapes along the edgesshifting toward the trees as the flames flicker.
Sometimes during the day, I can hear them—their mutters rising thick below my words,
like smoke billows from a chemical firefixing its pungent smell across a clear sky.
Mostly, they sleep like bears hibernatingdeeply beneath the snow. I let them be.
Better left with violent dreams of salmon,than cracking open the bones of the dead.
Better chained in soft recriminations,than eviscerated with what I am.
-
Sun and shadow dapple the ivy
as it unfurls slowly up the wall.
Just a few days after the solstice,
the summer’s long heat rises early
from the damp coolish darkness beneath
the foliage in the garden bed.
Two cardinal couples flit between
the long branches of the chinquapin
twittering love songs through the morning,
while the dogs stalk lizards through the yard.
(June 29,2024)
-
to kill
without love
without hate
(the mother,
the father,
the monk,
the god,
the city)
is to burn
(nowhere, and
everywhere) and
then be free:
one’s mouth filled
with bloodied words
(April 14, 2022)
-
Anger rose like a bear
growing to its full height,
growling into the trees,
massive arms outspread.
It has been yearssince I manifested him;
my meds, like dogs,
keeping him at bay.
Yet, a small thing,no more than a stone,
easily ignored—
was enough:
he flowed through me,the adrenaline surged;
my face flushed;
my jaw clinched.
Anger swirled around me,like a vibration of bees
migrating slowly
across an open field.
I watched it unfoldthrough me, as easily
as when a child
I watched him shift
from himself into fear.But I could not run
from myself as easily
as from him. So, I let it
pass. I stood still listeningto silence, and it dissipated
like waves on a beach
chased along by sand pipers.
(April 8, 2022)
-
from what vantage point
can one see oneself
with a panoramic clarity
reserved
for history
and mountain ranges
in the spring
the answer of course liesin one’s own myopic
vision blurred
with warm blankets
precise collars
and a dilettante’s
book shelf
(February 13, 2021)
-
As the old world swirls
in laconic siroccos of doubt
flinging sand adroitly
into a warm Mediterranean air
how do I stand still with silence
aware only of this moment’s breath
how do i ignore the nattering pedants
who brandish their wet cliches
like limp wands twined from roses
as petulant proof of their originality
how do i negotiate the spaces
i must traverse without
slagging off chunks of flesh
until the sinews abandon my bones
(October 26, 2020)Â
-
It’s a Familiar Enough Lie
by
aging, assignment, choice, delusion, despair, doubt, hesitation, lament, meditation, patterns, poetry, restraint, tired
With a headful of sighs,
I move from room to room,
stand in the doorway, then turn,
followed by dark regrets
which waited to slither back
from all the obvious corners.
I promise myself againas I slip further away:
it will only be a moment;
then days, then years vanish
before the wait will stop,
before I walk out the door.
(September 19, 2020)
-
from “an untitled serial poem”
grey and cold all day
the year begins again
cedar pollen drifts wildly
I can feel the shredded bark
deeply behind my eyes
trying to cut a way out
I’m not surprised but fear
all that has changed enough
to become a normal day
as wolves claw and slaver
at the door
(January 2, 2020)
note: I am starting a series of 140 poems, the length of each poem will be a set number of syllables determined by a random number generator. each poem/stanza will organically arise from the previous poem/stanza in the series in the manner of a renga without following the traditional renga’s syllable parameters. Additionally there is another requirement put upon every tenth poem/stanza in the series which will connect it to another “ten” poem/stanza following abstractly the traditional rhyme pattern of a Shakespearian sonnet. This is the second time I have written a longer poem following this self-imposed system. The first was called “Sonnet: a renga” This is the beginning poem/stanza of the new series.
-
from “Rendition of Change,” a work in progress
The old tortoise-shell cat slips
cautiously through the grass
as the storm approaches.
This-too-shall-pass provides
small comfort in the moment’s
chaos and fear. Lightning strikes
often and nearby. As rain
starts to fall, the cat watches,
motionless, from the stair.
(July 3, 2019)
-
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
At night a light
exposes one, opens
like a wound to bleed
out into the dark.
I want to stay
hidden within
my secrets, to hold
my desires close
like a small flame.
It’s safe there, stitched
tight between muscle
and bone, waiting
to enkindle a better day.
(March 23, 2019)
-
from “Renditions of Change,” work in progress
He could force the moment,
sweep his way clear
without consequence–
He could act,
high-handed,
dismissive–
He could succumb
to his appetites,
devouring all —
and yet, he doesn’t.
(March 21, 2019)
subtext 