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I sat in silence
as she slept
her breathing so low
I would bend my ear
down to listen
to air
(from Sonnet, a Renga 2011-2012)
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from "Sonnet, a Renga"
he carvesthe wooda slow shapingand moldingof the maskhe wantsto wearremovingthe lifehe wantsto hide—becauseno onelistensit’s easyto speakhonestlywhichotherwisewould beunwisea mountaintowerprotectsobviously(fall 2011-spring 2012) -
And Still His Tail Wags
by
she asked another questionwith her casual laughteras if what he answeredcould ever truly matteryet still he rose to hersilent snap and whistleas any trained dog wouldeager for her approvalthen with one commentshe made confidentialshe dismissed himas inconsequentialhe turned awaybroken and ignoredcompletely obliviousto what he truly heard(April 30, 2013) -
spring and you
I tryto keep upwith youbutI’m always fallinga stepor twobehindtoo distractedby all the flowerstrailingafter youlike loveuntilyou and the flowersvanishyet againinto the vast heatof summer(April 30, 2013) -
from “Primogenitive Folly”
strong words leap laterallyout-rigged guided by starsnorth star not visible belowsea storm sea upon seawavecrest sees wavecrestword to wordsibilant seafoam speaksnothing to nothing flowscurrents slip through seadriven by whatdesire to be heardto be other than herewhat vision launched these ships* * *we move murmuring storiestelling our lives in order to livethe words match the oars strokespatterns patterning what we sayaround us the sea surgesemotion and motion mergesun and salt scorch skinbirds beckon toward horizonwith landfall a new tale triumphsterror and travail of sea trailtrepidation tying us togethertranquility transcending turmoil(from “Primogenitive Folly,” August 2001-April 2003) -
I Fear
“Say fear’s a man’s best friendYou add it up, it brings you down”–John Calebeing labeledbeing ignoredbeing noticedbeing exposedbeing seen the foolbeing the foolbeing dismissedbeing interrogatedI fearthe consequence of honestythe mockery of inconsequencesaying too much or not enoughthe embarrassments of myselfI fearothers’ misinterpretationsothers’ definitionsmy misinterpretationsmy definitionsmy angermy sentimentalitymy self-pityI fearlosing friendsbeing oldandalone(April 29, 2013) -
Love is Not a Ploy
by
love is not a meanslove is trustlove is not a goallove is presencelove is not changelove is acceptancelove is not submissionlove is awarenesslove is not melove is around melove is not outside youlove is you(April 29, 2013) -
Thee Poems from "Sonnet, a Renga"
after the stormflowers growand bloomyet again—Lisa and I, 1979among the crepe myrtleand spring flowersof austin’s japanese gardenwe would feaston canned smoked oysterscheap wine and each other—the world existsin front of youwith lucka peripheral sightexpands youenough to bendback upon your visionto create a new senseof self that can seehow great a fool you are(from “Sonnet, a Renga, 2011-2012) -
2. Talking through Walls
May 29, 1995for J.S.Tracing the patterns in friends’ talkhurts. I need to listen as closeto their echoes as I listen to my ownguarded words. Defining the wallsthat make up this cave: shadows danceauguries divined in tortoise shells.(from “My Book of Changes, 1994-1995) -
perpetual transition
like standing at a bus stop waiting to godowntown to see that band you knowthe cool one you had saved up for all summerat that crappy job and your pinhead bossbecause tickets were outrageously expensivewhich meant few of your cool friends would bethere probably just those rich posers fromthe west side who only like that one songfrom the radio anyway then it starts to rainand you have no umbrella because who carriesumbrellas like you were English or somethingand the bus was supposed to arrive a few minutesafter you left the house and those few minuteshave moved passed without the bus arriving sothe rain is crushing your happiness like gumwrappers we used to throw at each other in geometryclass which drove Mrs. Janak bat-shit even if you werefiguring out the right angle to take in order to smackWayne upside his head the smarmy little red-neckthat he was but the rain doesn’t really matter anywaybecause it has slacked off a bit and you are goingto see that band the really cool one whose namefor some reason has slipped away like lizardsdown a wall and into the rosemary bush nearbyso you reach into your pocket to check on the ticketfor the like nine billionth time since you walkedout of the house when an old junked out carslams past going like a hundred and ten milesper hour through the puddle of water next to the busstop where you are waiting and it throws upthe entire puddle like a blanket over your headand there you are wet in every crevice of your beingas if you just slipped from the womb placenta oozingbehind you like puppies after their mom when yourealize your ticket to that band you know has alsobecome soaked and the ink has begun to run like squidescaping an attack so much so as to become illegibleeven if you could read a bus schedule to see the buswas never coming today and you become old andyour ability to distinguish one moment from the nextlike the one time promise of your life has diminishedto such a degree that the difference between will andmemory has blurred into the spray of my passing car(April 26, 2013) -
“love is not love. . .”
by
I don’t know, Willy:unless a tailoradjusts a seamthe suit does not fit.Many ships are fixedon silent sea floors;stars whirl above themlost and unconcerned.Youth and beauty changeas love changes too;love alters as lifealters with us all.If this be error?Our loves will tell.(April 26, 2013) -
Upon Waking Eros Whispers a Line to Erato Then Flees
to runmy tonguealongthe saltysavorof yourskinthenfindmyselfenwrappedwithin(April 25, 2013) -
Fall
by
Another bit disperseslike dandelions to wind,as if my mind were leaveslifting from branch tip,one leaf at a timelike my thoughts,into the autumnal airsecond by second,until only the skeletonof the tree remains,stripped bare.(April 24, 2013) -
40. Wearing Air
April 24, 1995Riding in a Cadillacdoes not suit me – –Ostentation attracts thieves.I fool myself with acquaintances;my friends are close- –Do I risk alienation?(from “My Book of Changes” 1994-1995) -
Fragments of Water
1an openinglike an eye,or a breakin a levee:water flowsit is not necessary that one follow;yet, close attention to the mundane detailswill yield more than if one simply floats alongwithout any regard to the signs placed hereThe details drive oneto tangential or divertingdistraction: pay too muchattention and like kaleidoscopesone’s view expands geometricallyto minutia, while disregarddebilitates with self-satisfiedsmugness: either, solidifies inertiainto a prison’s wall.Between obsession and ignorancelies the open gate.Presently – –the midpoint is never as preciseas math wants to make iteither too little or too muchit shifts – –the water recedesthe breach healsthe river resumes its contented flowI’m floating downstreama leaf from the twirl of airalights to spin between rock and frothWith a lackadaisical attention spanmy mind wanders where it will.Where it starts to where it isconnected by the tangentialtrail it haphazardly followedlooping back like those water cycleposters in third grade wherethe sea becomes the clouds rainingon the mountains ad infinitumuntil any will I might have hadevaporates into whimsical steam(from Fragments of Water, 2004-2006)
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