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)
-
Self-Recriminations
by
Blindly,I embedeach razoredword I speak,like dormant seeds,into the surroundingground. Then wait,without surprise,for the vindictivevines to snakealong my legsand spine strippingflesh from bone,like butchers applyingtheir keen knivesto the unvoicedtendons ofthe dead;until I waillong ululationsof despairto the wind,as if my coyinnocencehad not vanishedlike breathinto the icy air’ssilencewith the firstsoft wordsI spoketo you.(from a work in progress, “Arcana, VIIIswords, February 27, 2014) -
Gabriel Waits in an Alley
Over his headon a wallhe propshimselfagainst,a sign,he doesnot see,stuttersindecisivelyfrom red(closed)to blue(open)in an asymmetricalarticulationperpetuallyon the vergeof annunciation.(February 26, 2014) -
Open the World
I set out on a new trail againconfident only in familiaritywith the process the motionone foot in front of the otherthe slow amble giving timeto look up and wonderwhy it took so long againto shake off the cold doubtto transform fear into hopeto breathe curiosityand laugh with each pratfallnot caught in grace’s illusionI step forth from my lifeinto the radiant world’s blur(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” IIwands,February 26, 2014) -
Even at Rest I am Tense
by
Amid the books and cats in the front room,I sit content within the labyrinthI have wandered aimlessly through for years.The familiarity of the orderedspines lines up across the shelves as if fatehas spun out a net within each chapterto script my thoughts, until they finallyarrived in this room defined by my books,like old city walls to shelter my self,and all I love, from the coming onslaughtof the sneering ignorance battlingobviously within me at each turnof all the random pages I can readwithin the growing shadows of the room.(from a work in progress:”Arcana,” Xpentacles, February, 24, 2014) -
(words masks shapes)
Not from the tipof the tongue,not some data bankawaiting a key stroke to expunge:but from nowhere to nowhere – –formed from stale contours of airwe spit these liquid sounds,twisting our tight mouths aroundwith these masking smiles, or frowns,‘til some spark of sense is foundlike a penny on the ground,“My word! It’s almost like newat least between me and you.”So, they come from somewhere elsemolding both the world and self:old tomes on the shelf.(from “pimogenitive folly, August 2001,April 2003) -
the verge
by
I step between two low treesonto a small stoop of grey granitejutting into the emptiness of aira thousand foot drop to the groundand twenty miles to the Adirondackslurking blue on the horizon like shipssailing toward some promised landdespite the clichéd romantic vistato an implied unlimited futureemerging from a convoluted pastone more step in this tableauxyields fear for with where I have beenand with my dawn blinded visionsone more step propels me toward life(from a work in progress, “Arcana,” IIIwands, February 20, 2014) -
All That is Not Me Sings in You
from the vibrant purr of the worldyour delicate touch absorbs meyou cup your hands around the embersand slowly without effort breathethe hearth’s fire back into lifeand like the cat curled at your feetI am content with our familiaritywith the silences in your presencewith my love given unbidden and freeI track your casual delight in the daylike a sunflower dances with the windand within life’s dull consternationsthere’s no cause to be concernedfor no definitions can contain us(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Queenwands, February 18, 2014) -
Still Point
This calm spinsa deceptivebalance.Not so muchthe calmof a storm,a momentarybreak betweendestructions,a respitefromthe bullying wind,but rathera tensecalmlike the surfaceofwater.Whether in a glasswhere the tensionholds the waterabove the edge,or in a lakeacross whicha bugskateson longthread-likelegs,the calm belies.Fish swirl,dart,break waterdevouringthe obliviousskater;the waterpushesagainst the glassseekinga returnto the sea.Cloudsdrift slowlyacrossthe mirroredsurfaceof the lake.This calmmakes menervous;I’m thirstyand reachfor the glass.(from 115 Missing Days, 1996) -
stairs
by
“I change too quickly: my today refutes my yesterday. When I ascend I often jump over steps and no step forgives me that.”–Friedrich NietzscheI plod up the stairstake a step upthen sitbefore stepping downagainthe step looks familiarbut it’s notthat was the onefrom yesterdaytoday the stairsstill ascend as wellas return to the groundI too change quicklyso much somy today and yesterdayimplode withoutcondemnationnor forgivenessno tomorrowto refute thatstepping forwardor stepping backI still standone foot above the other(February 16, 2014) -
To Despair
February 21, 1995The road splits;indecision fixes me.I should stay at home,but I want to move.Patience, not force,clears this road of rocks.
(from “My Book of Changes,” 1994-1995)
