subtext

My Poetry and Commentary on Life

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

Designed with WordPress

  • Always Already

    by

    beauty, erato, eros, happiness, love, poetry, relationships, traces
                to Lisa
    The context for either of us was precise,
    and irrelevant as who had a dog or cat;
    our independence longed to be subsumed
    within the ripe urgency of the cornfield’s
    lowed rustle across the starred night.
    The windows opened gulping the dark air
    in gasps of laughter, as if drowning
    between the bites and buttons we knew
    the moment we were in without knowing.
    (July 3, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • a patterned life

    by

    community, erato, eros, lost, paradigms, poetry, ritual, traces, ways of knowing
    He charmed her, like a kiss,
    a promise on the lip
    of smiling happenstance.
    “There’s more,” he grinned
    taking her by the hand.
    She growled, “There must.”
    She did his will; he her want:
    Another night, another day
    passed each other on the way.

    (July 3, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Salvation Inside the Mirrored Eye

    by

    fragments, poetry, traces, ways of knowing
    not an absolution
    nor even an indulgence
    both being implied closure
    but empathy
    a simultaneous understanding
    beyond explanation
    of each fractured moment’s
    infinite reflection

    (July 2, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • our daily bread

    by

    community, metaphor, poetry, ritual
    . . . like grasping a fresh baguette
    crusty warm from the oven:
    You break the bread between
    your hands, and inhale
    the steamy breath
    as it rises, like doves,
    in slow dancing wisps
    from the center of the loaf,
    then you understand
    for that moment, inarticulate,
    within a stunned clarity,
    your life,
    and take a bite.

    (July 2, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • My Word’s My Bond

    by

    narrative, paradigms, poetry, ways of knowing, writing
    Does talk therapy work,
    because the narrative
    creates sense within
    the chaos of living?
    If you don’t want to
    talk about it, then don’t;
    talk of something else –
    reframe the conversation.
    What story you want
    is on the tongue’s tip.
    Listen, the words you say
    become the story you want.

    (June 30, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Writing Lesson

    by

    anger, borders, hubris, poetics, poetry, teaching, ways of knowing, writing
    It’s not anger but passion.
    Learn the difference –
    listen to the smallest shift in tone
    if you wish to speak with love.
    The word withholds the strength
    which breathes inside our lives;
    to hear its smallest whisper
    listen closest to your soul.
    Each rhythmic heart’s pulse
    holds the difference of yes and no;
    the border between the both
    is the salvation of us all.

    (June 30, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Buddha Translates a Meme

    by

    acceptance, borders, creativity, poetics, poetry
    Now is all.
    When you are now,
    you will be all.

    (June 30, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • the last item

    by

    acceptance, blame, fear, poetry, ways of knowing
    and the worst thing is seeing
    yourself as you make the mistake
    the fumbled catch the misplaced line
    and then it flashes again
    memory mauls hard
    fangs stab a cacophony
    the vowels of blame embed
    between the flow of constancy
    a quick drum trill to end
    as if blood pulsed out
    into the dry thirsty earth
    with you the last witness
    such eyes dry and tired
    can only wish what they see

    (June 29, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • parting

    by

    eros, lonely, love, poetry
    as the door snaps shut
    fingers slowly pull away
    longing to be touched
    (June 29, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Say What You Will

    by

    erato, language, meaning, poetry, process, social construction, storytelling
    Most secrets are unvoiced desires
    silenced through fear’s propriety,
    and snide doubt’s quibbling frost.
    I’m cold, though it’s summer
    with a meadow full of flowers.
    Photographs are laid on the table
    as a way to organize memory
    into a digestible narrative.
    The image quickly becomes itself,
    a question unfolding like flowers,
    until mirrored dreams no longer need
    us to complete their reformations;
    leaving us, finally, to trust silence
    will cradle us away from possibility.
    (June 29, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • interrupted speech

    by

    communication, control, definition, poetry
    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 space
    between here (me) and (away) there
    tied to a claim,
    (a chain)
    an assertion,
    (a word)
    an act of aggression even –
    of being –
    There is –
    which begs for what
    to follow
    with 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 follows
    the claim of existence
    other than here (me)
    is (such certainty from the speaker)
    nothing –
    because not me
    to dally with Descartes
    Outside the window
    I view a world
    distorted by the glass
    the grammar reflected in these words
    to separate (wheat from chaff?)
    me (here) from
    the actionable all
    (June 28,2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Redemption

    by

    control, desire, erato, eros, love, poetry
    The initial aspects of control relinquish
    into her first imagined kiss,
    as if after a long flailing struggle
    against the rise and fall
    of the sea, exhausted,
    not able to maintain
    his strangled integrity,
    he relaxes into the wave,
    slips into the deeper pulse,
    the quieter waters,
    to drown

    within her.

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • I’ll Tell You Straight

    by

    borders, erato, eros, hope, love, poetry, writing
    Love is a blanket to hide beneath
    to fend off any social disdain:
    I thought you didn’t like me,
    she said. If I didn’t like you I wouldn’t
    be here now, he said as she stapled
    another set of papers unnecessarily.
    True, she laughed not nervously
    nor with any hint of the coquette.
    He picked up a book casually, as
    a distraction to an original phrase
    she would rue the day she ever took
    up with him like a toy paper spear
    thrown across the room in a delicate
    arc collapsing onto the snowy ground,
    in as much of a manner as most
    fantasies ever come to erotic conclusions.
    He wonders now if Americans are killing
    themselves by the millions every year
    with defective rubber tires that get hot
    and blow up, like his flirtatious attempts at love.
    (June 27, 2014)
    seed text: On The Road by Jack Kerouac
    not a sonnet

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Eros Relents

    by

    chance, desire, erato, eros, poetry, sappho
    after Sappho
    The wind tosses
                the highest apple
                            onto the ground;
    finally, within my grasp.

    (June 27, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • silence

    by

    control, life, patriarchal, power, social construction, ways of knowing
    the familiar father
    speaks without
    words a context
    which cannot be
    shaken like chains
    breaking our arms
    and legs and tongues
    until our compliance
    becomes irrelevant
    as dust
    from our bones
    (June 26, 2014)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…




«Previous Poem Next Poem»
  • Subscribe Subscribed
    subtext
    Join 410 other subscribers

    Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.

  • subtext
    View site in Reader
    Manage subscriptionsSign upLog in
    Report this content
    Collapse this bar
%d