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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

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

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  • Siren

    by

    acceptance, dream, irony, liminal, love, obsessions, poetry, romance, sonnets

    she comes for him during the night and sings
    in long lugubrious arpeggios
    her song of seduction into his ear
    such soft comfort he longs to last yet knows
    even as she first came to sing her song
    he must move slowly back into his day
    until he wakes surrounded by her dream
    but nothing of her heart as she desired
    he moves at length within these folds of day
    and dream singing his own seductive song
    slowly and out of tune as he wanders
    vaguely from room to room lost in the pull
    of his night like the tidal flow along
    her shore drowning us all beneath the rocks
    (October 2012)

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  • copula

    by

    life, liminal, poetry, sonnets

    and a conjunction desires a place
    to stand between the now of this
    and the absence which came before
    and continues nevertheless unabated
    like traffic on a Tennessee turnpike
    a flow of intertwined moments
    and coincidences linked in you
    like a fine mesh chain draped
    across your lover’s bare neck
    and yet we hold tight in our belief
    that something had to have led us
    here and still waits to show us a way
    and so the moment we are evaporates
    like the desire for a detached and

    (October 2012)

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  • The Uses of Conversation

    by

    communication, conversation, irony, meaning, poetry, sonnets

    gossip and complaint
    canapés covered in flies
    chatter’s waste in a horde
    of conversational rind
    along an edge of secrets
    safely unspoken
    a conversation secretes
    bits of mannered detritus
    to feed on the muse
    a white worm
    inside soft flesh
    gnaws out to air
    thus we talk
    thus I write

    (October 2012)

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  • Transgression

    by

    dream, hope, life, liminal, love, metaphor, poetry, romance, sonnets, ways of knowing

    and when he dreams the dream she dreams
    folded tight like an origami butterfly
    so small she slips it into her pocket
    to carry with her safe from interpretation
    he falls like alice into the well of her eyes
    then tumbles into her troubled longing
    to transform the wrath of the world
    which hides within us all into love
    yet her dream he dreams is only his
    dream as much as she allows him to dream
    he sees only so far past the edge of the cloud
    of his knowing lost in wisps of her words
    and when he wakes her dream trails lazily
    like pockets of fog between broken trees
    (September 2012)

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  • Dreaming (1990,Bread Loaf, Vermont)

    by

    dream, existential angst, life, liminal, meaning, metaphor, obsessions, poetry

    I worry each detail; yet, 

    these are no Martin Luther King Dreams
    articulated to thousands milling 
    around Lincoln like galactic spirals.
    But ones that ferment, rumble
    from below like a bronco
    new to the saddle twisting
    away as I lie almost asleep.
    The alarm waits to ring, the 
    bedsheets wind about me, 

    Laocoon wrestling stone snakes.

    Conversations I have had turn 
    into ones I have not;
    friends and strangers become incubi
    or succubi.  Seductive wet kisses
    entangle my next waking greeting.
    These dreams grow through the night,
    to turn their roots into my day,
    mushroom’s pale flesh.
    Like worms in a spaniel’s heart
    they clot my speech–have I
    told this story before?  Have I
    seen this person in another form?
    Like waking in an unfamiliar room
    these dreams entangle me
    making it hard to see like Descartes 
    past the melting candle to 
    the circular cogito ergo sum , to
    the dream that stands clear,
    the dream that has no morning. 

    (Summer 1990, Bread Loaf, Vermont)

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  • Waves

    by

    life, poetry, thinking

    tonight I find thought difficult
       to sustain against the storm
          surge of today’s trivialities
    the mundane washes me along
       this battered shore like shells
          without an echo of the sea
    (September 2012)

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  • A New Phase

    by

    acceptance, children, family, identity formation, life, poetry

    half-moon hangs heavy
    over our empty dark house
    we are so alone
    (September 2012)

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  • Echo Location

    by

    hermenutics, irony, meaning, paradigms, poetry, social construction

    “we are whole edges”
                            -Clark Coolidge
    not so much where I am
    as where others leave off
    the valley and its village
    lie below the cliff’s edge
    a simple casual step
    and I become air
    Whitman claimed no edges
    Only infinite permeability
    I am defined outside myself
    A line separates two spaces
    I like wall’s tight definitions
    A knife blade snaps between stones
    All edges abut each other
    No cement only resistance
    Each aspect I show
    Shaped by all I confront
    A place to not be someone
    Other than myself here
    (September 2012)

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  • Overture

    by

    communication, conversation, hope, irony, life, love, poetry, reader response, romance, sonnets

    “consolidation occurs in the response”
                            Norma Cole
    I conjure you in the words
    I write upon this page
    Often allusive and ambiguous
    In case you see yourself here
    And like a fawn surprised
    Upon a trail you flee
    From the overtures
    Within these short lines
    Despite my advice to others
    To speak with an honesty
    Without manipulation
    I cannot speak to you
    So once again I write vaguely
    Hoping you’ll understand
    (September 2012)

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  • Panic

    by

    life, metaphor, poetry

    A whirl of leaves
    Along a building’s wall
    Spirals up then falls
    Without cause or purpose
    The leaves lift quickly
    Like a mother rising
    Frantic with unreason
    To a child’s waking cry
    Only to fall quietly
    To the ground again
    A sleepy baby
    Nestling into her crib
    (September 2012)

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  • Prescription

    by

    existential angst, hope, life, poetry


    “dance naked, grotesquely
    before my mirror’
                William Carlos Williams
    I wake into the dark before
    Light leaks through the house
    My mind already caught
    By possibility’s intricate
    Counter rhythms
    Like a metronome marking time
    I calculate the day
    What to do what to say
    For a moment
    As I make coffee
    An image from a poem
    I read the night before
    Dances toward me
    Tensely I step outside
    Lift my arms to the stars
    And as the cats curl
    Between my bare feet
    I do a little jig singing
    I too am the happy genius
    Of my house, Dr. Williams

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  • Does it matter to the dream?

    by

    communication, conversation, hope, liminal, meaning, metaphor, obsessions, poetry

    “It is dreams that have destroyed us”
                            –William Carlos Williams
    Was that a conversational play
    On what I said,
    Like a butterfly floating
    Briefly to this flower
    But not that flower?
    Does it matter to the dream?
    *            *            *
    he saw only what he saw
    his life blocked his view
    so many rocks to clear a way
    he should have worn gloves
    fingertips drip blood like crumbs
    as if marking a path to follow
    fumbling through the rocks
    he fumbles with the rocks
    blood patterns the rough stones
    like wings of exotic butterflies
    *            *            *
    Amidst your soft conversational flutter,
    I hear echoes of my echoes in your words,
    Like when I was a boy and wrote the girl
    I wanted to see, not necessarily
    The one who was there, listening:
    Not so much a response,
    As an interpretation of a response.
    *            *            *
               
    A doubling of what could have been said
    Like a chrysalis, about to break,
    hanging from a branch.
    Was there change
    during the pause
    of that conversation?
    Do you go back
    and listen again?
    I do,
    Constantly
    Sounding each word
    For what I wish to hear
    Until the echo’s walls
    Shape my thoughts
    And I fade into this room
    Familiar in its comfortable desire.

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  • Dream of Erato

    by

    communication, conversation, hope, liminal, love, obsessions, poetry, romance, sonnets

    “Change,” she says to him.
    “Yes, change,” he replies
    placing his head upon
    her shoulder, “change.”
    He speaks quite freely
    of love inside the dream;
    outside, he awkwardly
    watches as she speaks.
    Her hands and eyes dance
    between her words to
    open a space of refuge
    for his heart to hide.
    Outside the dream, he
    again desires to dream.
    (September 2012)

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  • Not Much to Say Tonight

    by

    acceptance, hope, poetry, thinking

     too tired
    to follow my thought
    I lag behind
    the leaping image
    wolves gather along
    the edge of the herd
    (August 2012)

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  • Transition

    by

    existential angst, life, liminal, paradigm shifts, poetry, sonnets

    then without a thought the world breaks open
    like a condom during sex and you think
    oh dear ever so slightly distressed but
    it feels like perfection in the moment
    responsibility and delight laugh
    at themselves cynical and unswerving           
    as the case may be depending always
    upon the various eddies you tend
    to trend toward in the given flow of now
    until I think all that we ever are
    is a collection of primal twitches
    bound into a bag of fear and desire
    then thrown into our tumultuous lives
    like a sack of cats tossed off a high bridge
    (August 2012)

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