subtext

My Poetry and Commentary on Life

Designed with WordPress

doubt

by

dissatisfaction, doubt, fate, metaphor, poetry, traces

exhausted empty

lost to the wind

a plastic bag

caught on a branch

out of reach

torn shapeless

oblivious

to the whispers

of destruction

dancing closer

through the air

above the trees

minute by

inevitable

minute until

nothing remains

not even an echo

of leaves falling

like starlings

in a flurry

to light upon

the frozen ground

(March 3, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Opposed to Natural

by

early work, language, poetry, traces, ways of knowing

Look at this piece of pottery, an

artifact—rare. a thing made by art,

an artificial product. Artifex; (L.f. arti-

art + fex, -fec-em

maker, f. fac-ere

to make.) Artificer.

Artifice : the action of an artificer, the

making of anything

by art, construction, work-

manship. Artificer : one who makes

by art or skill. Artificial : made by

or resulting from art or artifice; contrived,

compassed, or brought about

by constructive skill, and not

spontaneously; not natural.

a. artificial in result as well as process.

This shard speaks in fragments.

Look inscribed here,

a language naturally.

And what does it say?

What dreams forced it onto clay?

(from “if this is a comedy, then why ain’t laughing,” 1993)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
To Luxuriate in the Ineffable

by

creativity, poetry

to Hope Burwell

To approach

is not enough

and often too much.

The mirage shimmers away;

the beauty’s voice mars

her make-up.

In what details are

the atom’s swirl

the crab nebula?

I stand at a distance

removed, but only

assuming a mid point other.

The space between the lines

also runs parallel.

Are my edges yours?

A part or apart?

We dance in the flame,

simultaneously air and fire.

(circa fall 1993)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
love’s slow ripple

by

erato, love, poetry, romance, silence

such small contact

your hand

on my shoulder

briefly in goodbye

yet days later

I still notice

your touch

on my skin

(February 28, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Self-Recriminations

by

Arcana, blame, communication, control, doubt, language, life, poetry, school existential angst, tarot

Blindly,

I embed

each razored

word I speak,

like dormant seeds,

into the surrounding

ground. Then wait,

without surprise,

for the vindictive

vines to snake

along my legs

and spine stripping

flesh from bone,

like butchers applying

their keen knives

to the unvoiced

tendons of

the dead;

until I wail

long ululations

of despair

to the wind,

as if my coy

innocence

had not vanished

like breath

into the icy air’s

silence

with the first

soft words

I spoke

to you.

(from a work in progress, “Arcana, VIIIswords, February 27, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Gabriel Waits in an Alley

by

doubt, language, poetry, traces

Over his head

on a wall

he props

himself

against,

a sign,

he does

not see,

stutters

indecisively

from red

(closed)

to blue

(open)

in an asymmetrical

articulation

perpetually

on the verge

of annunciation.

(February 26, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Open the World

by

Arcana, hope, life, metaphor, poetry, sonnets, tarot, ways of knowing

I set out on a new trail again

confident only in familiarity

with the process the motion

one foot in front of the other

the slow amble giving time

to look up and wonder

why it took so long again

to shake off the cold doubt

to transform fear into hope

to breathe curiosity

and laugh with each pratfall

not caught in grace’s illusion

I step forth from my life

into the radiant world’s blur

(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” IIwands,February 26, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Grace

by

i ching, life, lists, metaphor, poetry, ways of knowing

March 1, 1995

The bric-a-brac almost stays

intact; porcelain roses crack.

The dancer’s form’s not the dance.

Beneath our patterns; ice

on windows; the mythology

of stars: a truth emerges.

(from “My Book of Changes”, 1994-1995

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Even at Rest I am Tense

by

Arcana, definition, life, literacy, poetry, sonnets, tarot, Uncategorized, ways of knowing

Amid the books and cats in the front room,

I sit content within the labyrinth

I have wandered aimlessly through for years.

The familiarity of the ordered

spines lines up across the shelves as if fate

has spun out a net within each chapter

to script my thoughts, until they finally

arrived in this room defined by my books,

like old city walls to shelter my self,

and all I love, from the coming onslaught

of the sneering ignorance battling

obviously within me at each turn

of all the random pages I can read

within the growing shadows of the room.

(from a work in progress:”Arcana,” Xpentacles, February, 24, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Dependence

by

borders, doubt, i ching, life, liminal, poetry, unstable

February 28, 1995

I squint to see better;

the edges blur.

Is it the tree, or

the light reflected from

the tree I see?

I am a mean.

(from “My Book of Changes,” 1994-1995)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
Red Etude

by

beauty, life, poetry, traces

draped ropes

lay blandly

across his shoulders

like mottled scars

as the beauty

of the every day

drained slowly

from his life

like the blood

at her wrist

(February 21, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
(words masks shapes)

by

poetry, ways of knowing

Not from the tip

of the tongue,

not some data bank

awaiting a key stroke to expunge:

but from nowhere to nowhere – –

formed from stale contours of air

we spit these liquid sounds,

twisting our tight mouths around

with these masking smiles, or frowns,

‘til some spark of sense is found

like a penny on the ground,

“My word! It’s almost like new

at least between me and you.”

So, they come from somewhere else

molding both the world and self:

old tomes on the shelf.

(from “pimogenitive folly, August 2001,April 2003)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
the verge

by

acceptance, Arcana, borders, control, metaphor, paradigm shifts, poetry, sonnets, tarot

I step between two low trees

onto a small stoop of grey granite

jutting into the emptiness of air

a thousand foot drop to the ground

and twenty miles to the Adirondacks

lurking blue on the horizon like ships

sailing toward some promised land

despite the clichéd romantic vista

to an implied unlimited future

emerging from a convoluted past

one more step in this tableaux

yields fear for with where I have been

and with my dawn blinded visions

one more step propels me toward life

(from a work in progress, “Arcana,” IIIwands, February 20, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
(writing)

by

fragments, poetry, process, traces, writing

obsessive

in the attempt – –

loops – – more stops than starts

returning – –

caged lions turn

stop then turn

words images clichés

(from primogenitive folly, August 2001-April 2003)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…
All That is Not Me Sings in You

by

Arcana, dream, erato, love, poetry, sonnets, tarot

from the vibrant purr of the world

your delicate touch absorbs me

you cup your hands around the embers

and slowly without effort breathe

the hearth’s fire back into life

and like the cat curled at your feet

I am content with our familiarity

with the silences in your presence

with my love given unbidden and free

I track your casual delight in the day

like a sunflower dances with the wind

and within life’s dull consternations

there’s no cause to be concerned

for no definitions can contain us

(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Queenwands, February 18, 2014)

Share this:
Facebook
Tumblr
X
Bluesky
Threads
Like Loading…