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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
  • Rock and Roll High School
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  • All Fall Down

    by

    assignment, change, despair, exercise, poetry, transition, worn


    With the advent of November
    In Texas, the not hot season
    Begins. The trees give up,
    Desperately dropping leaves
    Through the muggy air. Night
    Falls earlier than the day’s
    Work ends; dawn breaks 
    On the drive to work.
    Peering between black curtains,
    The light remains elusive
    And coy beneath low clouds
    Crushing all who resist.

    (November 7, 2016)

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  • no hansel no gretel no witch

    by

    erasure, lost, mythic, narrative, poetry, sonnets
    along another path I drop bits
    of myself as if to find myself
    again if I can realize I’m lost
    again that of course is the rub
    to know one’s gone astray before
    too much has fallen away before
    tired and thirsty you bend down
    to a stream to drink and fail
    to know the person looking
    up at you as someone you would
    want to know even if you could
    conjure the courage to speak
    after all the hints and whispers
    failed to find her still at home
    (November 6, 2016)

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  • malaise

    by

    abstract, erato, loss, poetry
    a soft wind shuffles
    about the house, pauses
    over bits of dust hanging
    obliquely in the air —
    then meanders again
    from room to room
    lost in thoughts of lost
    thought and what might
    have been but wasn’t

    (November 5, 2016)

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  • her only option was to kill him, he clung so tightly to her arm

    by

    anger, broken, fear, poetry, power
    she flailed
              against a tree
              the wall
              the ground
    until she maimed herself
    and he bled out on the floor

    (November 5, 2016)

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  • Arranged Wittgenstein

    by

    meaning, poetry, words, writing
    “In saying this
    you
    refer to that
    moment
    in time
    you were speaking
    it makes a difference
    whether
    you
    refer
    to this
    or to that
    moment.
    Mere explanation
    of a word
    does not
    refer
    to an occurrence
    at
    the moment
    of speaking.”
    –Ludwig Wittgenstein

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  • over

    by

    dissatisfaction, frustration, lists, poetry, tired, worn
    too many prescriptions
    too many commands
    disguised as descriptions
    too many lacerations
    flayed into my skin
    too many unvoiced cries
    too many nights arguing
    violently in my sleep
    too many days bludgeoned
    in pursuit of fragile dreams
    too many shards of glass
    too many bloody hands
    held out in supplication
    too many crucifixions
    nailed across these hills
    (November 2, 2016)

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  • eminent

    by

    aging, fate, fear, middle-age, poetry
    rabbit watches with unease
    as each swing of the scythe
    slices the grass with a swoop
    one step closer then again
    and the world trembles
    and collapses to skin
    and he can barely breathe
    and there is nowhere to run

    (November 1, 2016)

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  • Fallen

    by

    alone, despair, loss, poetry, response, sadness
    “I would always rather be happy than dignified.”
                                        –Charlotte Bronte
    He waits patiently in the parlor
    like a forgotten Sunday suitor
    as the yellow afternoon drapes
    the room in dusty silence.
    There is no dignity in sadness,
    just sadness, a complacent yawn
    alone.  He peers from the window;
    as the day’s shadows grow deep.
    Violently trimmed to partially fit,
    he forces his wings into a box,
    so they no longer can do harm,
    then walks across the room
    to sweep feathers from the floor.

    (October 31, 2016)           

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  • in stasis entire

    by

    abstract, fate, lost, poetry, sonnets
    Before opened to air,
    my arteries pulse slowly
    beneath my skin. Moments
    open and close within
    a moment, like doors despite
    a shoulder against the jamb.
    What was seen, as grace
    of tense, folds back upon
    itself, like sedimentary
    rock grinding all myths
    into a gruel. Divorced
    from when and then,
    tapping time on walls
    I hide in where I am.

    (October 27, 2016)

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  • World Wary

    by

    alone, death, existential angst, fear, poetry, sonnets, worry
    rabbit nibbles and nibbles
    one eye on the path
    one eye on the briar
    always on the verge
    of run run run
    always on the verge
    of leap and lunge
    into the wind
    then turn and cower
    still in the grass
    nose and ears aquiver
    rabbit nibbles and nibbles
    something looms nearby
    something always nearby

    (October 27, 2016)

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  • Small Talk

    by

    communication, conversation, erato, interrelationships, love, poetry, sonnets
    Within a polite exchange
    in a hall, “It’s good
    to see you,” she said.
    “Always,” he replied,
    meaning more
    than could be said
    in the moment
    which he had.
    He worries the delight
    he takes will fall,
    ashamed and forsaken.
    at her feet, and all
    he cannot say
    will stay unsaid.
    (October 26, 2016)

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  • crossing

    by

    abstract, assignment, breach, liminal, poetry, ritual
    Language is how ghosts enter the world.
    –Anne Michaels, from What the Light Teaches
    the world’s collected
    nothing’s left but to wait
    on the dark to grow
    deeper into the dark
    until light which seems
    so far away and small
    as to never return returns
    slowly drawn along an edge
    as a knife opening a throat
    to sing blood into the wind

    (October 25, 2016)

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  • offering

    by

    erato, eros, love, muse, poetry, prose poem, tanka
    He held out his hand
    as a offering of love
    into empty air.
    What does one do to vanish
    like dusk into the dark?

    (October 22, 2016)

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  • Words

    by

    abstract, communication, definition, interrelationships, language, poetry, sonnets
    I place much trust in words
    to create the world whole
    to believe stones solid
    to build an aqueduct
    to flow healing waters
    to the heart of us all
    there’s little beyond touch
    to hold us together
    than the words we whisper
    to each other at night
    to salvage our troubles
    to find a salvation
    somewhere in the darkness
    between the words we say

    (October 19, 2016)

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  • Three Haiku with Cliché Themes

    by

    abstract, assignment, poetry
    As if he had walked
    into a solid brick wall,
    she was always there.
    *
    “All will go to hell,”
    an old man screams on the street.
    She tends to the poor
    *
    Synder wrote a poem
    echoing Ezra Pound’s phrase
    copied from Li Po.

    (October 17, 2016)

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