subtext

My Poetry and Commentary on Life

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entangled

by

communication, community, interrelationships, poetry, traces

storied moments tangle into view

if one attends every moment of the day

the seconds reconnect and bend one

another’s shapes to shape simultaneous

causes one to the other to diverge

enough not to see the tenuous

strands which trail behind each word

like lovers unaware their last kiss

is the last kiss at our story’s end

(November 25, 2013)

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Late November Sunday

by

acceptance, desire, love, poetry

Rain drips cold from tree branches.

The leaves hold tight, like beggars,

to no avail, as the wind plucks them

casually into the air like laughter

of starlings fluttering quickly away.

She watches from a window wondering

who he is sleeping with tonight,

then turns toward the darkening solace

of the house with its nostalgic glissandos

raining about her like shattered glass.

(November 24, 2013)

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11. Siren Song

by

early work, hope, i ching, meaning, paradigm shifts, poetry, writing

November 26, 1995

I stand at the horizon I saw;

the horizon is where I was.

In an infinite universe,

I step away, yet remain

at a center. The horizon

draws, but is not there.

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

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(are you listening)

by

communication, life, love, poetry

do you hear my mind’s echo

within the words you mouth

what you say is only part

of what I once said

in passing

to you

in a casual conversation

when I was drunk

and wanted more

than a kiss

which never came

(November 23, 2013)

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so many subtexts

by

love, obsessions, poetry, romance

I hear all

I want

all

I wish

in every word

you say

my projection

my dream

my self

in each word

I want you

to say

to me

(November 23, 2013)

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just a thought

by

acceptance, community, mythic, poetry

something anything is so important that you must tell someone any one what it is that you see is something other than what is there that you are willing to scream in the viscera that what is there is so important that you are willing to die to be heard not herd.

(November 22, 2013)

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21: Elemental Change

by

Arcana, hope, interpretation, life, mythic, poetry, tarot

Stepping through a green door

on the cliff’s edge, he gives birth

to himself, singing his childish songs.

Like omphalos blood washed

into the earth by a mid-wife,

auras of light drip from him

with a musical clarity

as he dances into the wind.

(from a work in progress, November 22, 2013)

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20: risen

by

Arcana, hope, liminal, poetry, tarot

like a child giggling

good-night beneath

her blanket, dusk

fingers the clouds,

then trumpets the

march toward dawn;

the clarity night

brings alters

enough for change

to grow into a

newer day, safe

from all

the misjudgments

that friend and foe

place upon you

like stone slabs

over tombs.

(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” November 22, 2013)

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glutton

by

poetry

As with all things,

through me

I see

you.

I only have one

way to be,

even when

self-eviscerating;

or especially

then, than

any other:

I eat my skin.

Sated, I see;

I am a conduit.

(November 21, 2013)

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To Write

by

poetry, writing

“To build light”

                                    —Ezra Pound, Canto XCVI

            . . . into the

finite nature

of definition

            draw a line

                        your line

            on a page

            a boundary

then use that to lift

a larger space into place

around yet another

            bit of light

peering through a slat in the wall

where dust motes dance unencumbered

by your word

(November 19, 2013)

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Peace

by

acceptance, early work, i ching, poetry

November 21, 1995

On the horizon,

Heaven meets earth.

The sun rises and sets

simultaneously – – Where

am I? At home,

I am content.

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

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19: Now You Know

by

Arcana, desire, poetry, tarot, thinking, ways of knowing

Who stares at the sun?

Such clarity permeates

all darkness: My eyes!

( from a work in progress: “Arcana,” November17, 2013)

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Break

by

acceptance, life, love, poetry

across the floor

splintered

like laughter

glass shimmers

refracted

light between

bits of pooled

blood

the bedroom

mirror no

longer hugs

tightly against

the wall we

so precisely

hung

it upon

silence plays

between

our hands

as we pick

the smallest

shards of what

remains without

reflection

(November 17, 2013)

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secondary space

by

acceptance, fragments, poetry

the morning light

exacerbates

the blind white

of our walls

like desert sands

swallowing swathes

of verdant lands

(November 17, 2013)

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in touch

by

communication, life, love, obsessions, poetry, romance

still

you touch

my arm

then touch

again

I turn

and touch

your lips

with mine

you touch

my tongue

to taste

my kiss

I touch

your hip

then slip

between

to touch

you deep

and then

again

until

we seem

to touch

and tilt

then tip

over

the top

toward each

other as

we reach

for a hand

to hold

to clutch

as yet

again

we fall

back

in love

in touch

(November 17, 2013)

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