subtext

My Poetry and Commentary on Life

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

Designed with WordPress

  • Excess Light Is Not the Problem

    by

    borders, control, fate, interrelationships, life, meaning, poetry, thinking, ways of knowing
    “Unreason is in the same relation to reason as dazzlement to the brightness of daylight itself.”—Michael Foucault
    Truth’s troubled;
    so it’s best
    avoided
    if you can.
    Now I am not
    saying anything
    like to lie,
    but locks are dangerous:
    logic clicks
    mechanically into place
    without thought
    for surrounding space.
    To lie with truth begets
    a problematic progeny.
    (December 22, 2013)

    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…
  • Pack Up My Things and Go

    by

    acceptance, i ching, life, metaphor, poetry, process, ways of knowing
    December 22, 1995
    Perhaps it is better to go silently
    since no one believes,
    if they bother to listen.  The clamor
    is so loud.  What I have to say
    needs an attention that is lacking.

    Simplicity is hard to understand.

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

    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…
  • (Life Remains Unchanged), two poems from 1995

    by

    creativity, fate, fragments, i ching, obsessions, poetics, poetry, traces, writing
      


    Cold Feet
    December 18, 1995
    So I’ve spent months cleaning
    to the foundations, investigating
    each fissure of my well.
    What will it matter
    when I put all this aside
    and follow my old path?
    The Wood Curls Slowly in Arabesques
    December 19, 1995
    Sliding the chisel along the grain,
    the wood takes shape before me
    I watch the shavings curl,
    then fall away.  Here is where
    I am, not with the finished

    bowl upon the shelf.

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

    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…
  • you say nothing always

    by

    communication, poetry, traces, ways of knowing
    your words are natters
    of wind without resonance
    beyond breath’s play
    along imagination’s ear
    what I want you to say
    formed from what you will

    (December 20, 2013)

    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…
  • How the Connections are Made

    by

    communication, community, i ching, identity formation, life, obsessions, poetry, relationships, traces
    December 15, 1995
    The tone of a simple statement, 
    the placement of a simple word,
    like a melodic air
    drifting across a lake:
    we recognize the other in passing 

    by the fire we carry within.

    (from, “My Book of Changes”)

    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…
  • Doo Da Wop

    by

    acceptance, life, poetry, ways of knowing, work
    “Come on get smart, tune up and start
    To whistle while you work”
                         —from “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves”
    Do what you’re told—
    Duh! Or get
    whopped upside the head.

    (December 19, 2013)

    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…
  • Eternal Movement

    by

    anger, borders, dissatisfaction, hope, i ching, life, poetry
    December 14, 1995
    A pattern repeats:
    no more a weakness
    than tides to the moon.
    I fluctuate between
    an angry despair

    and an unqualified hope.

    (from “My Book of Changes” 1994-1995

    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…
  • proposal

    by

    audacity, erato, life, poetry
    I’ll bite the tight
    flesh slightly
    along the back
    of your neck
    until you hum
    the length
    of your body
    like honey bees
    fanning a hive
    desperate
    to cool down

    (December 18, 2013)

    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…
  • how it is said

    by

    communication, language, poetry
    If I could drawl
    a bit slower,
    savor each syllable,
    the complex notes,
    at play
    between consonant
    and licentious
    vowel,
    then the words
    might not
    taste
    so bitter
    on my tongue.

    (December 17, 2013)

    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 Night Opens and Closes

    by

    acceptance, borders, desire, dissatisfaction, erato, lonely, poetry
    Mid-December moon
    rises full behind the trees;
    each month, I’m stunned still.
    Moon, my only friend,
    you’ve seen me through such phases:
    who drinks with you now?
    This morning, the moon
    illuminates my waking,
    a cold reflection.
    (December 17, 2013)

    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…
  • erosion

    by

    doubt, fate, fragments, poetry, traces
    to wake with blood
    oozing from my speech
    teeth crack against teeth
    tension’s slow mastication
    grinds across the night
    with unrelenting ease
    until who I am thins beneath
    this skin leaving only traces
    to hint at what remains

    (December 16, 2013)

    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…
  • Two Sides, Same Coin

    by

    anger, dissatisfaction, hope, i ching, life, love, poetry
    December  13, 1995
    The conflict, my only true conflict,
    flares again tonight.  I take
    sides – – – both are my own.
    I am the obstacle, I am motion.
    If conflict does not mean love,

    I hate myself at times.

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

    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…
  • Checking the Map

    by

    i ching, poetry


    December 11, 1995

    And yet here I am:
    not much farther than
    where I was when I left:
    only the distance was great.
    It’s never an easy matter
    to stand still, listening close.

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


    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…
  • collapse

    by

    identity formation, life, paradigm shifts, poetry
    my feet made of dust
    disperse into corners of the house
    comfortable in inconsequence
    my knees crack against the stone floor
    into puddles of dice
    clattering their way toward silence
    my face encased with masks
    crumbles one word at a time
    back into the liquid earth

    (December 14, 2013)

    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…
  • Step By Step

    by

    acceptance, fragments, i ching, life, poetry, process, traces
    November 29, 1995
    Each drop traces a path
    from puddle to river.
    Water runs deep.
    Gradually, I turn toward home.
    I become angry, more at myself . . .

    Only I can take me where I need to be.

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

    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