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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
  • Rock and Roll High School
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  • Lines in the Sand

    by

    communication, community, critical theory, irony, life, liminal, metaphor, poetry, ways of knowing

    people along the borders speak stranger
    than here their accents slur towards a there
    further away than their words convey
    some days it’s even hard to follow
    the people next door with their talk
    of movie stars and escaped bears
    often I find it simpler to say nothing
    rather than risk being misconstrued
    then defined by what I didn’t mean
    so I nod my head as if what
    is said is somehow within
    the edges of my understanding
    my limited vocabulary protects
    me from crossing any lines
    (December 2012)

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  • among schoolchildren

    by

    children, education, life, poetry, school existential angst, teaching

    “nor beauty born out of its own despair
    nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil”
                            -W.B. Yeats
    I am here
    in this room
    a presence
    to you
    a shadow
    a whisper 
    what I have
    to say
    futile
    your angry
    bluster
    bludgeons all
    (December 2012)

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  • Boundaries Define

    by

    dream, life, liminal, metaphor, paradigms, poetry

    1.
    inside the dream I devour the fruit
    like blood juice pulses across my chin 
    my hands are red and slick
    I pull off my clothes and bathe
    in the dark warmth of the juice’s flow
    inside the dream the cave is narrow
    the opening a slim vertical slit
    yet still wet from the dark fruit
    I slip between the tight walls
    sliding deeper into the other
    inside the dream shedding myself
    like the snake I come to the heart
    of this cave filled with flickering
    torches dancing deeper images
    for us all to awaken into
    2.
    outside the dream there is no cave
    no paintings on the wall pulsing
    between shadow and fire
    outside the dream I hear nothing
    but my heart staving off fear
    for another day another minute
    outside the dream there is silence
    the wind moves a few leaves
    as if someone watched nearby
    (December 2012)

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  • Shimmer Rain

    by

    communication, hermenutics, inner speech, irony, language, life, liminal, metaphor, poetry, sonnets, ways of knowing

    My own clichés ripple my pond like light:
    I move between the fluctuations of silence
    and sound, side-stepping direct questions
    like an apostate over-hearing the flames
    approach through the bearers’ darkness.
    I feel a sense of safety here among the reeds
    where I can watch the play of light on the lake
    with less chance of being spotted by the heron
    stalking her prey across the shallows nearby;
    yet, this phrase, too, is but a mirage of my words.
    And where, dearest reader, you ask, is the truth
    beyond my dance between these  drops of rain?
    Where the honesty of a language which does not
    hide behind the shimmering rain of these words?
    (December 2012)

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  • Come to an Understanding

    by

    communication, conversation, language, life, liminal, love, metaphor, poetry, romance, sonnets, ways of knowing

    the poem beneath the poem
    she said he said but he
    could not recall saying
    anything that profound
    as if beneath the words
    they shuffled about like
    tarot cards on the table
    they  found an honest love
    one where beauty
    would open unbidden
    like peaches to his tongue
    tart and quickly flowing
    the juice of their lives
    transparent without definition
    (December 2012)

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  • Eros Laughs in the Corner

    by

    communication, conversation, dream, hope, irony, life, love, obsessions, poetry, romance

    again you expose
    unwittingly
    the small of your back
    as you bend to pick up
    a paper from the floor
    it’s all so casual yet
    my speech still
    falters momentarily
    imperceptibly
    as I long to reach out
    run two fingers softly across
    your pale patch of skin
    causing you perhaps
    to turn into my arms
    to accept solace and love
    with our embrace
    instead you stand
    turn towards me
    continuing
    without pause
    the  conversation
    not noticing the remnants
    of my desire beyond
    a slight quizzical glance
    as I finish my discussion
    of whatever triviality
    is at hand.
    (November 2012)

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  • Molcajete

    by

    education, metaphor, poetry, work

    during the work day
    he grinds his teeth           
    flattening the tension
    into a bitter paste
    (November 2012)

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  • Thinking of You Again

    by

    identity formation, language, life, liminal, meaning, poetry, writing

                                 “I am the walrus”
                                                    -John Lennon
    sometimes the you is just the me
    sitting on the ground talking to himself
    quickly describing the world in order
    to function with some sort of decorum
    appropriate to whatever situation she confronts
    as we wander through their troubled day
    (November 2012)

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  • Dénouement

    by

    communication, dream, hope, life, love, poetry, romance

    and when his warm skin
    presses against her back
    he places his hand on her
    bare hip and falls back
    into untroubled sleep
    (November 2012)

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  • About You

    by

    communication, community, conversation, liminal, love, poetry, reader response, social construction, sonnets

    I have created you here
    or rather an image of you
    I interact without you here
    I write these poems to you
    or to the one of you who hears
    all that is here for you to hear
    as well as for you who do not
    problematic for me and for you
    due to the singular ambiguity of you
    your response or lack begs a question
    who are you and for whom do I write
    you are the confidant of confessions
    you are the echo in the waking dark
    you are the secret lover to my desires
    (November 2012)

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  • Simpler Said

    by

    communication, conversation, hope, language, life, love, metaphor, poetry, romance

    “there are two kinds of love being made (as reader, you also are being wooed). Each one fits within the other.”—Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet.
    I speak
    directly            
    to you
    not hidden
    behind a he
    or she
    but
    solely my
    I to you
    feel
    my whisper
    at your ear
    don’t
    distractedly
    brush me away
    like a loose strand
    of your hair
    turn instead
    towards me
    in a kiss
    mouth
    your words
    back to mine
    like lovers
    in a tangled
    dark
    fold
    your mind
    to mine
    until
    what we say
    holds
    what we know
    as one
    hand holds
    another
    (November 2012)

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  • Hunt

    by

    liminal, poetry

    Along my edges,
    I chase shadows,
    wisps, which
    vanish
    in still air.
    (November 2012)

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  • Tense

    by

    existential angst, life, meaning, poetry

    he breathes
    in long silent whistles
    as if  he were giving
    birth to himself
    his muscles clinch
    his bones in fear
    as he waits for the sky
    to finish falling
    his world  becomes a sea
    and like a catfish
    he gulps air in gasps
    thirsty for an end
    (November 2012)

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  • Be Unbroken

    by

    community, hope, life, liminal, poetry, sonnets

    and another poem starts with and
    as if whatever conversation happened
    never came to a complete stop but instead
    side-stepped slightly to avoid an onrushing
    bull or to not slip on an unpleasant event
    hidden deeply in the minutia of the day
    each detail fitting perfectly together
    after the fact as if all along intentional
    yes from the start A equated C equated
    B but never so tangential as all that
    to cause a complete collapse of our city
    until what remained was the final and
    because then again it bends back around
    to almost but almost catch his tail again
    (November 2012)

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  • Your Hand

    by

    existential angst, life, love, metaphor, poetry

                           to Lisa
    in the vague shadows of the twisted night
    I wake again into my clotted fear
    you lay your hand upon my arm until
    the convolutions of my troubled thought
    spiral back around toward an anxious calm
    like the last dry leaf from November’s elm
    (November 2012)

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