with this drought the seed
overlooked by the sparrow
must wait for the sun
to relent it’s cold greed
(April 29, 2014)
-
My Fear Finds Me
Within this lightI carry, I am onlyable to see beyondmyself a certain wayinto the darkness.Friends turn as Ienter; in greeting,I nod as if I knowanything morethan who I once was.I bring what I canto the table, scrapsof past ideas I canno longer patchtogether as one.I try to listen,but only sensethe conversation’srhythms and flowdancing in the room.Uncaught in anyear, I watch mymetaphors diegasping in needof explanations.The noise becomesmy silence, a cocoonto comfort into safesolace while the world’sfangs drip in hunger.(April 28, 2014) -
sentence
by
Condemned to a lifeof controlled contentment:to do what’s expected;to play the proper part;to exist not livewithin this labyrinth,I translate my loss of selfinto a cleaner line strippedof loose tangential talk,one where I could rise outof my self-loathing,attempt to fly on the wingsof a stereotype so simpleno explanation would be askedafter the unremarked crash.(April 27, 2014) -
unstable
“the millstonescommenced their grinding again”–Denise LevertovI am onlya tremblein this air,which I gulpas if drowningin a water far deeperthan I could everwade beforeslippingbeneath the surfacewith a lastquick thrash.This morningat the rear of the meeting,I read poetryas they soldtheir promisesof pufferyand changewithout change,and felt fragmentsblister and flakefrom my soullike painted facadesin the sharp summerlight until onlytears remainedto riseagainst the broken levee.(April 26, 2014) -
and always a wolf lurks close by
She wonders where he goesas he turns another corner;she panics she will lose himas he wanders in the wood.He walks in tighter circlesnot knowing tree from tree.He broods into the darkened skyfretting the silence in his laughter.She pads between birch and elmnot knowing all she knows;she finds her way to track himdropping crumbs upon the ground.With another layer of abstraction,we hide within cliché’s expectation.(April 25, 2014) -
poet to priest
by
“no wind is the king’s wind”–Ezra PoundOnce again,you tell mewhat my words mean;not placing words in my mouth,but taking my words,reshaping themto your purposes,an appropriation of intent.Content in your beatific vision,you sit blindedto the insights of dissent,the first slow trembleof the lotusbefore the fall.Be still;know in this silencebetween nowand the damp petalsupon the resurgent ground.(April 24, 2013) -
perhaps
perhaps his heart could holda desire for tomorrowas if the future weremore than not nowa veiled perpetualpessimism of todayperhaps hope propelledhim toward a purposeto provide reasonfor all the troubledmoments of doubtdevouring him like crowsperhaps memory marred himinto a trust with the wayhe wanted to believeevery option presentedas true as beforewhen his story was newperhaps he can open enoughwithin himself for lightto dance away despair’sweary plod and grumbleperhaps he will knowthe joy about him(April 23, 2014) -
lament
I miss your laughterI miss your eyeswhen you laughI miss the loose strandsof hair at your neckI miss your handsas you talkyour handsin my handsyour handson my skinI miss your skinsoft along your claviclethe small of your backI miss you near me in silenceI miss your talkyour intellectyour obsessionsyour angerI miss your passionsyour kissI missyou(April 22, 2014) -
el toro
by
I need a distractiona red capeto hide a sword ina quick flourishbefore the end(April 21, 2014) -
look this way
this lens distortsinto a claritythe vaguenessof what I seealong my myopicperipheryit perfectsa troubled visionwhere effect followscause in linearprecision despitewhat I hold as trueone’s allowedonly to honethe lie fineuntil all one seesis their pointstabbing home(April 21, 2014) -
passage
by
perhapsthought’swisps driftthrough airperson to personinto our eyesor handsthey passlike mistthrough treescurling aroundeach branch tipin a slowsinuousdanceuntilthey foldinto our heartsand we understand(April 19, 2014) -
prime mover
a connective threadan intricate mazesome chain of beingtraced backto absolve from blamethe consequence sincewhat one builds onone believes(April 18, 2014) -
the records
by
each tick markupon the pagetracks the secondsthroughout the agethe numbers matterfor ease of controlfor those who watchand finger the roleit does not matterif you disagreeman’s measure’smore than a degreefor you live in the ruleas well as any manthe marks you makefew understand(April 15, 2014) -
wound
by
bloodied rags moundupon the floorI have nothing leftan absence openswithin me like laughteranother breach in airI cannot fillwith metaphor’s demandsnor coagulated assumptionremnants oozefrom the woundmarking the territoriesof my vague constellation(April 15, 2014) -
Checking the Map
Doubt opens up to fear:one does not knowwhat one knows anymore;silence expands distance,until words cannot bridgethe chasm between us.(April 14, 2014)
subtext 