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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
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  • Erato

    by

    Arcana, beauty, desire, erato, poetry, tarot
    She lives within us like the sea,
    a pulse in the dark at the center
    of the earth resonant with stars:
    patterns, woven within patterns,
    to be traced like capillaries past
    the origins of a transcendent love,
    where words and thought fuse
    into an inarticulate desire for
    something other than now.

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Queencups, March 12, 2014)

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  • staff work

    by

    Arcana, control, doubt, life, metaphor, poetry, tarot
    the form is basic enough
    parry riposte block deflect
    then repeat as each advance
    comes toward me again
    year after year after year
    even on such shattered ground
    the pattern’s familiar enough
    each question carries doubt
    specific enough without being
    at its center entirely wrong
    yet it is wearing to explain yet again
    what it is I do 
    who I am 
    that is not you
    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” VIIwands, March 12, 2014)

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  • Message

    by

    Arcana, communication, erato, eros, love, obsessions, poetry, tarot
    My obsession consumes
    without consummation.
    My passion whispers a kiss
    without touching lips.
    My fire leaps along the wind,
    never touching the ground.
    My words’ seductive flood
    rises above me like love,
    until I drown.
    (from a work in progress, “Arcana,” Knightwands, March 11, 2014)

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  • Silence

    by

    i ching, poetry, process, writing

    March 11, 1995
    So, I haven’t written lately.
    Look around – –
    The trees wait dormant;
    the earth holds its power.
    I’ve been silent;

    my heart beats still.

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

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  • Into Inconsequence

    by

    acceptance, dissatisfaction, metaphor, poetry
    I have nothing
    left to say,
    but silence,
    not
    the silence
    of defiance,
    the stubborn
    refusal to yield,
    but the absence
    of any option
    other than utter
    abnegation:
    the ashes
    of the city
    vanish into
    the still air.

    (March 10. 2014)

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  • (how we go on)

    by

    communication, definition, poetry, traces

    The water gathers
    on the tip
    of a stalactite,
    collecting itself
    before the plunge.
    Leaving traces of itself
    upon the rock,
    like glyphs
    scratched
    upon a wall,
    a drop forms,
    turns into itself,
    then falls

    away.

    (from “primogenitive folly,” August 2001-April2003)

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  • afternoon musings

    by

    erato, eros, life, love, poetry, romance
    The shy tremble of the elm’s branches
    in the late summer air resembles
    your lips as I bend into your kiss.
    Within the blanket of the tree’s shade,
    light dapples cool patterns across the ground
    like soft fingerprints traced along your skin.
    Above the hammock the birds dance the air
    between the slow shimmer of the leaves
    as my thoughts flow toward you once again.
    (March 8, 2014)

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  • niggling doubt

    by

    definition, doubt, poetry
    quick slices through flesh
    microscopic cuts which heal
    and are cut again and then
    again to form patterned
    scars beneath the skin
    like fingernail scratches
    clawed within locked
    crematorium doors

    (March 6, 2014)

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  • don’t trust the trees to stay trees

    by

    borders, doubt, fear, poetry, traces
    behind each whispered tree
    of my metaphorical forest
    hides a deeper beast
    than those which weary me
    across this dreary day
    not so much vision’s refraction
    bent through branches
    blanketed by carrion birds
    pecking at ideas like eyes
    from the souls of the dead
    as much as non-existent shadows
    slipping along a periphery
    with unbelieving angels
    in search of a wayward god

    (March 6, 2014)

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  • The Heart Slowly Overtakes Reason

    by

    Arcana, erato, love, obsessions, poetry, romance, tarot
    I plod past dreams
    to pass the day.
    Truth lies
    beneath a soft surface
    of a song I sing
    to you of love’s desire.
    I lack experience
    with such seductions
    to turn my intentions
    beyond the shapes of clouds.
    I stumble my words
    in exaggerated failings
    to transform the ground
    around you to include me.

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Knightcups, March 5, 2014)

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  • (shaped by story)

    by

    language, paradigms, poetry, social construction


    The story trails beyond its end.
    Sotto voce echoes of echoes reshape
    an ear many years and miles away.

    Who speaks :  who listens.

    (from “primogenitive folly” August 2001-April 2003)

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  • Aging Desire

    by

    community, control, conversation, creativity, doubt, poetics, poetry

    It’s not the city that changes.
    It’s him becoming old, unable
    to separate memory from
    where he stands now.
    The landmarks change.
    So his words replace them.
    Soon the old marker vanishes
    from the sign it has become;
    and, he loses his way
    from there to home
    as the world’s meaning
    strips from his words.
    ****
    All art strives for
    the propaganda
    of the artist’s vision
    to be received
    by the people
    around him:
    his friends,
    family,
    lovers.
    The small contacts come
    with understanding
    over time, returning
    to a conversation
    to re-shape, re-phrase
    a nuance recently
    recurred as he
    went about the day.
    (March 3, 2014)

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  • 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)

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  • 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)

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  • 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)

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