Cant

 

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“Knowledge of the name gives him who knows it mastery even over the being and will of the god.”

                        –Ernst Cassirer

 

 

The mythos surrounding

Can’t in positivity

Can’t hide the truth

That can’t can

Always be said,

And can occur

Even when said

Can’t can’t.

 

Ultimately changing

A word can’t change

the word. Limits

Exist that can’t be

Broken, even when

We say they can’t.

 

(November 12, 2018)

 

 

 

 

Too Many Conversations to Slough Off

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After the teacher conference

spent listening to others

speak of techniques

to hold their students

locked around an idea

of reading and writing

with little actual reading

or writing of consequence,

 

I am reminded of a Greek

statue of a wrestler,

who stands silent

scraping sweat and

filth from his arm,

his day done.

 

(November 11, 2018)

Good Fences

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There is nothing here, she says

holding out her heart.

 

He demurs in silence and

refuses to speak his part.

 

No matter, she improvises,

each stone’s cut smooth…

 

…and takes its place, he smiles,

like fate into its groove.

 

There are no walls, she says,

when nothing’s to divide.

 

The walls are real, he says,

everyone has something to hide.

 

Again, she offers her heart;

and, he has forgotten his part

 

(October 21, 2018)

Beg Prudence

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“go in fear of abstractions”

                        –Ezra Pound

 

In evening’s corners,

As Dark stalks the streets,

Times’s serrated silences

Gnaw even king’s bones,

Content in the certitude

Another mundane day has,

Once again, passed unmolested

Into Memory’s vague grasp.

 

No need to fear, abstractions

Are ubiquitous as starlings

Murmuring along the eastern hills.

They pulse and turn back on us

Like cold-clotted blood,

Until we can no longer breathe.

 

(October 11,2018)

Mother

 

Not from any petulant resentment,

Nor a lack of matriarchal love, but

It does not bother me much now

That mom died a decade ago.

Worry distracted her and kept

Her distant. She wanted me

To be something she wanted

To be, without regard for me.

Her love, no doubt, was sincere,

But was obligated, and entangled

With obligations in return with

A thousand hair-thin lines to untie.

Like rags, I wring my hands, like her;

And wish, like her, I was someone else.

(October 8, 2018)