my hands reach for you
to pull you close through the night
my life’s one desire
I need you to sing for me
to arc your voice into stars.
(February 14, 2017)
-
Valentine Manifesto
In this age of hate, a love poembecomes a political act. To claimsomeone other than you, differentfrom you, not you, can transformyou away from your self is trulya revolutionary statement. To movebeyond Jesus’ – love your neighboras yourself – to love someone morethan you love yourself is a radicalact of empathy; as if you could give upwho you think you are and become loveof another, love for the other and survive.To trust yourself enough to trust anotherhuman wholly is to transform the world.(February 14, 2017) -
no attempt to savor
sated on bitternessI gulp down what’s offeredas if safe compliancecould provide for a curewithin puddles I drownno deeper swells to swimwhiskey’s no less than waterto keep a devil from sin(February 13, 2017) -
cognizant for the moment
by
the ephemeral flutterslike feathers along a raven’s neckinconsequentialyet aware of each new windin which to lift aloftthe jet black wings pullinto the air resistinggravity’s cold collapseto fly as he willsno more to the edgesthe distant distractionsto turn a black eye from homeno more fleeting presumptionsto tear away at my heart(February 12, 2017) -
One Vision
“Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak’
–William ShakespeareI must confess my difference,since silent acquiescenceand remorse is not enough.I must accept my submissionand perform the right ritualat each prescribed station.I must explain each misstepalong the way to arriveat the heart of my wrongs.I must take these knives andwith a calligraphic slashinscribe my myopic heart.The sentence is written for me,and nothing will change.(February 10, 2017) -
Valentines
by
Three Sevenlings1.Decades have gone passedsince we were young andwalked through Paris streets.Nude, you walk toward mewhisky in your hand;the bed sheets crumpled.I desire you still2.Every evening, wediscuss the mundane—love’s soft ritual.Your touch lessens fear,holds me to center,burns away the fray.I find peace with you.3.I can’t sleep tonight;you have gone away.One night is too long.Even in silence,I want to be here,because you are here.Here we still are.(February 8, 2017) -
making sense
memory ‘s either an affirmationor a whip snapping overheadkeeping one tight in the traceswho are you to contradictthe space into which you’ve fallenor the laughter you’re allowedyour ontic scream’s absorbedthe ground’s soft and wetno shadows flicker the wallthe past rearranges simpleexplanations into presentcomfort’s inevitabilityuntil another delusionreshuffles to fit again(February 6, 2017) -
at the end
by
a collapse an implosionwhat sense of my selfremains as crumpled paperor crushed containersI beg enough timeto look inward or outwardto bleed out or staunchthe flood onto the flooreach moment mattersthe mundane and tenseadrenaline fueled turnshold no differenceI am not a monolithI am not your construct(February 6, 2017) -
A Fool Gains Self-awareness
His soft gesturesof seduction fellunnoticed, or, at best,unremarked, savinghim from himselfthrough his awkward startsand vague stutters.From fear or prudence,he let go of whathe never had. He nowbrings a dull clarityto how he wants toremember that moment’sinfatuation– the sevenyear obsession stillwhispering in his earlike the slow pulseand flicker that remainsthe next morningfrom last night’s fire.(February 3, 2017) -
Be Aware, Beware
a sand grain blake displayedas if a seer and discernedamid the silica’s glistenthis from that and now in thenyou too can be as heand look up and outnext to some exited seato watch with horrorclawing from deep withinthe beast shed its skinthen see all that we beswallowed in infinityyes you too can hold stilleach grain’s initial fallto see away from hereand the everything in all(February 2, 2017) -
that begat the troubles today
by
he thinks what he thinksas he walks his walkthrough hallways out doorsinto rooms as if spacecould be contained separatefrom himself in thought onthought of something otherthan the next step the nextpossibility’s assumptionthat’s then parsed thinlike prosciutto melting saltyacross his ravaged tonguethere the world wavers anewinto another and anotheras each singular event perishesinto itself and the other trailingahead like snail’s antennae’spulse and stretch toward somesense until it too’s devouredin obliteration’s wet maw(February 1, 2017) -
the rattled bones of the spirit
days since I wrotetoo tumultuous with worryand fear to think muchnews filled with doubtas chains are dragged aboutso blatant and quickI say there is no godyet evil secretes bileacross fallow fieldspanic clots my throatI cannot breatheenough to speakI am lostand cannot scream(January 30, 2017) -
projection’s shapes
his face turns from his crucified bodyto a swimmer leaping arms outstretchedthrough a sentient sky. What we becomeis reflected in the dry ground we striveto transcend like smoke’s ecstatic danceor the murmur of starling’s pulsingacross a morning’s autumnal sky.If I say George Washington’s face manifestsin the sky, diaphanous white cloudswoven in deepest blue, shall I mistakeyour laughter for delight more than derision?Could I turn the clouds outside my windowinto the countless things they are not,like the words I wish I had said to you?(January 26, 2017) -
Field Trip
I leapt up the mountain riverrock to rock each turn and leapa new revelation oh lookthen look again to see anewan inlaid distraction explodethe laughing froth splashingabout my dancing feet thenalmost thirty years lateron a bus filled with studentsthat moment on that rockin that river ecstatically openslike her initial kiss almostas if time’s inevitableprofundity ceased to exist(January 26, 2017) -
Eruption
Rending the calm silence,Rage thrashes about the house;a bear slashing the air,leaving us all in tatters.(January 24, 2017)
