Lost above
the back streets
of Paris
where we wandered
young, in love, together,
someone
played a piano,
like laughter
of first love’s kisses,
into the Parisian air.
(July 5, 2014)
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Read For This: a Lecture
Past words pirouette off the page,like apparitions at their stations,to reanimate an old thoughtinto a different mind’s age.A pithy phrase or sensuous linecatches the ear in a whisper,slows the thought to a clarioneven this reader might hear.To know what happens, lookat what remained: the tattered book,the cited scrap, one has savedto write through the bookish dark.What drives us to our ageresembles what drove us before:to slip past the smoke and hate,to sway in the dancer’s slightest gait.(July 4, 2014) -
defining a moment
Everything’s about to move,but nothing remains still,and nothing moves:Leaves between breezes.(July 3, 2014) -
Always Already
to LisaThe context for either of us was precise,and irrelevant as who had a dog or cat;our independence longed to be subsumedwithin the ripe urgency of the cornfield’slowed rustle across the starred night.The windows opened gulping the dark airin gasps of laughter, as if drowningbetween the bites and buttons we knewthe moment we were in without knowing.(July 3, 2014) -
a patterned life
He charmed her, like a kiss,a promise on the lipof smiling happenstance.“There’s more,” he grinnedtaking her by the hand.She growled, “There must.”She did his will; he her want:Another night, another daypassed each other on the way.(July 3, 2014) -
Salvation Inside the Mirrored Eye
by
not an absolutionnor even an indulgenceboth being implied closurebut empathya simultaneous understandingbeyond explanationof each fractured moment’sinfinite reflection(July 2, 2014) -
our daily bread
. . . like grasping a fresh baguettecrusty warm from the oven:You break the bread betweenyour hands, and inhalethe steamy breathas it rises, like doves,in slow dancing wispsfrom the center of the loaf,then you understandfor that moment, inarticulate,within a stunned clarity,your life,and take a bite.(July 2, 2014) -
My Word’s My Bond
Does talk therapy work,because the narrativecreates sense withinthe chaos of living?If you don’t want totalk about it, then don’t;talk of something else –reframe the conversation.What story you wantis on the tongue’s tip.Listen, the words you saybecome the story you want.(June 30, 2014) -
Writing Lesson
It’s not anger but passion.Learn the difference –listen to the smallest shift in toneif you wish to speak with love.The word withholds the strengthwhich breathes inside our lives;to hear its smallest whisperlisten closest to your soul.Each rhythmic heart’s pulseholds the difference of yes and no;the border between the bothis the salvation of us all.(June 30, 2014) -
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the last item
by
and the worst thing is seeingyourself as you make the mistakethe fumbled catch the misplaced lineand then it flashes againmemory mauls hardfangs stab a cacophonythe vowels of blame embedbetween the flow of constancya quick drum trill to endas if blood pulsed outinto the dry thirsty earthwith you the last witnesssuch eyes dry and tiredcan only wish what they see(June 29, 2014) -
Say What You Will
Most secrets are unvoiced desiressilenced through fear’s propriety,and snide doubt’s quibbling frost.I’m cold, though it’s summerwith a meadow full of flowers.Photographs are laid on the tableas a way to organize memoryinto a digestible narrative.The image quickly becomes itself,a question unfolding like flowers,until mirrored dreams no longer needus to complete their reformations;leaving us, finally, to trust silencewill cradle us away from possibility.(June 29, 2014) -
interrupted speech
by
There – (obviously) somewhere — or the marker,even if only verbal, would be futile —There – away from me (at least), here –There exists (is) –There is (exists) –The second sign post on this road (this sentence)being Being –So, a place,or rather —an implied spacebetween here (me) and (away) theretied to a claim,(a chain)an assertion,(a word)an act of aggression even –of being –There is –which begs for whatto followwith an answer attached(for mere being without context or reason causes anxiety to rise to unbearable levels since the individual cannot exist outside of the whole which is why we separate and show difference like peacocks as if it were a disease to be quarantined).but the what which followsthe claim of existenceother than here (me)is (such certainty from the speaker)nothing –because not meto dally with DescartesOutside the windowI view a worlddistorted by the glassthe grammar reflected in these wordsto separate (wheat from chaff?)me (here) fromthe actionable all(June 28,2014) -
Redemption
The initial aspects of control relinquishinto her first imagined kiss,as if after a long flailing struggleagainst the rise and fallof the sea, exhausted,not able to maintainhis strangled integrity,he relaxes into the wave,slips into the deeper pulse,the quieter waters,to drownwithin her.
subtext 