July 6, 1995
Being cautious – – or is it
distrusting – – I have few
friends. I wander alone
trusting instinctually with
whom to speak, with
whom to give my trust.
(July, 1995, from My Book of Changes)
-
the teller is the tale
confession absolves the excuseor even the need to have onethe story is enough to redeemthe sinner from his sinso tell me a tale to believeone I can trust to retellto say each moment of my lifeas I make my way through hellwe all have some story runningrepetitively through our headand like a tight mobius stripthe tale bends back into itselfone way becomes yet an othercause to effect to cause again(July 6, 2013) -
The Distance Between Word and Deed
by
It’s easy to be honestwhen speaking to no oneover morning tea and toast;at the end of a truncheon,honesty cowers behindbits of broken teeth.(July 5, 2013) -
32. A Solid Foundation
by
July 10. 1995The drunk looks for his keybeneath a street light . . . an oldjoke. I laugh, yet fear Isearch for something not there.Patience is not enough whennothing exists to be found.(1995, from My Book of Changes) -
under control
paths within wallsguarded with topiarytrimmed to precisionno gates only wallsthin lines like whispersdrawn close along skina veiled drape pulledtight across his facenothing like a masksomething like a danceone may step herebut never over there(July 4, 2013) -
from "Sonnet, a renga"
by
in eternitytime withouttimesmall degreesof differenceleave each otherforever(from Sonnet, a renga: 2011-2012) -
two options one metaphor
always a journeyas if motion matteredpoint to point assumesboth source and destinationwe either flow like riversor remain like boulderseither way a wayto be inside the day(July 1, 2013) -
reader response theory
by
he dreamed he could readher like a difficult textcould part the oblique veilsdraped about her wordsslowly and with care run hisfingers along the edge of herlines beneath the skin of herstory opening her tale teasingfine points hidden from othersmassaging the tips of her phrasesuntil she would unfold her meaningmeant for him alone to mouthrolling each syllable like grapessucculent and ripe with love(June 30, 2013) -
four poems from "Sonnet, a renga"
a vowelshiftmarksa foreigner—here I ameach storydraws a boundaryaround my life—and thenhis weightafter the droppulls the noosetightly aroundhis neckuntil no wordmay escape—a sighisa prayer(2011-2012, from “Sonnet, a renga) -
surfaces are revealing enough
“the surface of remembering”–William Faulknersafer in a wayto acceptwhat one seesiswhat one seeswithoutthe self-doubtof recollectionthe gatheringtogetherof strandsof memoryin frantic attemptsto rethreadthe thoughtsthat focusedthe momentupon the surfaceof the day(June 27, 2013) -
idealistic pronouncement
by
truth is without trustit speaks without proofis known without beliefit harbors no amitytowards any who hearnor makes promises to keepone does not play safewith what truth offersfor each day is at riskeach moment opens anewtoward a hope unfoldinginto some better worldmy truth I trustmy ideal and my damnation(June 26, 2013) -
seven facets of a prism
I take these stonesfrom each of youand wall myself away________________________where did my face golost in the deceptiona secret from myself________________________the standard tropeto remove a maskleaves one an other________________________another glob of paintcovers a glob of paintsmeared across canvas________________________stereotypes claw like ratscarving wet flesh intofiligreed bits of bone________________________blood flows thick belowthe ephemera of wordschoke on what you speak________________________wash the colors freewash the blood awaywash the water clean(June 26, 2013)
subtext 