subtext

My Poetry and Commentary on Life

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breach

by

communication, language, life, love, poetry

within an

opening

between

words we

speak

each to

each

i

slip like

a finger

between

wet flesh

to mark a

spot where

what i

say is

true then

disappears

before it

becomes mere

dogs

barking

at a wall

(October 22, 2013)

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correspondence

by

identity formation, life, liminal, love, metaphor, poetics, poetry, relationships, romance

I dream this morning of being

tangled, my arms and legs

between the sheets and you;

I wake to find myself again

tangled between the sheets and you.

For years now I have written you

into my life, my tangled dreams,

scrawled across this page like sheets

left warm upon the bedroom floor.

(October 21, 2013)

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19. Inwardly Correct

by

doubt, early work, poetry, resolve

November 1, 1995

I will continue,

as before, down

this path I have

chosen. Where

I am is now

where I was then.

(from My Book of Changes, 1994-1995)

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Inherent Fury

by

anger, fear, life, poetry, sonnets

the bear storms within me again

fists raised through my heart into sky

to rake his claws through the clouds

splattering heaven with my blood

my anger frightens me like the dogs’

slashing rage at the master’s gate

let us out let us out let us out

I can feel its teeth beneath my skin

stepping back from another edge

my breath left hanging on a wind

I flutter down a dissipating spiral

like a last winter leaf to ground

no cause to effect except disquietude

too much attention to the day’s detail

(October 19, 2013)

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47. Insecurity, Hubris, Cliche

by

acceptance, early work, i ching, life, poetry

October 25, 1995

Is someone listening?

I talk incessantly.

I speak in a quiet voice,

oppressed by silence and clamor.

I find joy in the pedestrian,

pausing to gape at a spider’s web.

(from My Book of Changes, 1994-1995)

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orientation

by

interrelationships, poetry

Nearby crumbs

of moist earth

fall away

from themselves,

a mole’s

starred snout

surveys the air;

leaves twirl

through tangled

branches;

such small things

disturb

the separation

of the distant

hills, until

the horizon bends

toward us:

and again

we are,

and again we are

lost: away

from here,

and close by;

our maps

fold our

topographies

into themselves,

flatten

our difference.

(October 18, 2013)

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here

by

borders, doubt, dream, liminal, poetry, relationships

on the rim

of dream

someone waits

(I wait?)

to crack

open the flesh

between

yes and

yes

between

the two

of us

a decision

must be

breached

(October 17, 2013)

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54. Blind and Lame

by

early work, life, poetry

October 19, 1995

I stumble along

without direction,

my head twists

about like a toy dog.

This is a lonely road;

I meet people, then part.

(from My Book of Changes, 1994-1995)

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18. Scour

by

early work, i ching, life, poetry

October 14, 1995

Enough of this self-flagellation!

How long can a pot be scoured

before the metal is worn?

I accept all my faults.

Even endings have ends.

Begin again, a single step.

(from My Book of Changes, 1994-1995)

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part ways

by

acceptance, borders, life, paradigm shifts, poetry

to begin again

in denial of where we are

as if there had been

some agreement some past

from which to part

ways in which to understand

our selves and our

misperceptions of our selves

when we stopped laughing

and looked away

(October 15, 2013)

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Stay, Bad Dog

by

audacity, hermenutics, interpretation, meaning, ways of knowing

a prurient thrill vibrates along an edge

the way a dog follows each forkful we eat

you still want more than what’s on the page

more than what easily falls to the floor

some crumb you could mistake for a key

some woodsman’s blaze toward the heart

any way defines these darker trees

between the marks and lines nothing remains

even the air is too thick to breathe

(October 14, 2013)

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remnants of eros in the rain

by

communication, desire, love, obsessions, poetry, traces, ways of knowing

“

… I love you more,

I don’t know what I knew before”

–Feist

today as I drunkenly negotiated

the traffic the rain the tangles

of public and private narratives

I heard a song on the radio

that made me think of you again

and your smile when you heard

the same song once before you left

and you noticed a connection

although ephemeral between us

(October 13, 2013)

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basket of eggs

by

community, conversation, interrelationships, life, poetry, traces

people continue to talk

long after we stop listening

they slip like foxes between

shadows within these moments

another story another tale

of woe so desperate to say

something to be a part

of some conversation

they tell some story

somewhat related to what

had been said before they

tell their fractured tale

with all its trailing ends

drifting piecemeal away

like old texts crumbling

at the end of the seer’s hand

these are the moments where

panic waits like porcupines

these are the moments

always nearby within

the seams of all the words

these are the moments

which constrict our throats

these are the moments

which should matter

these are the moments

which vanish into air

(October 13, 2013)

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47. I’m Tired

by

doubt, early work, i ching, poetry

October 20, 1995

I sit here beneath this tree

exhausted from my daily walk.

Not that the trip is onerous – –

it is the small nicks and cuts

that wear on me – – – I collect

my thoughts before going on.

Ifrom My Book of Changes, 1994-1995)

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61. Empty Barrels

by

early work, poetry, writing

October 10, 1995

I want to tell the truth,

an import beyond my kin

embedded in these simple lines.

I am afraid I brag,

instead of sing, shout

over my heart’s whisper.

(from My Book of Changes, 1994-1995)

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