from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (80)
so he thought if
as if she said
what he heard
he thought she
said more
he wanted her
to say more
yet her metaphor
slanted in then
out like a kite
testing the wind
with her string
(July 22, 2020)
-
Fear Lies
by
“Why aren’t you bold and free of all your fear?”
-Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto III
as smoke
infuses itself
throughout the house
long after the fire’s extinguished
so fear
circulates in silent eddies
flowing like ravenous minnows
nibbling sharply at our toes
.
my fear lies
within doubt
it breeds
in the crevices
in the misunderstood word
in the scene not played out
it’s brood hatches
hungry needing to feed
skittering along memory
like spiders alive to every
web strand’s tingle
it descends to attend
to the fly’s quick dispatch
(July 21, 2020)
-
Unconsummated
by
Why shouldn’t I?
A wren perched next to a cardinal
like a drunkard on a stool
looking for a bit of trouble:
Am I such an easy fool
to think this wind is for me?
A yes, and a yes, waited unsaid.
(July 21, 2020)
-
a darker shape was always present
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (78)
after the worst of summer’s heat
we’d sit in the grass
beneath the pecan and cottonwoods
away from the radiant streets and sidewalks
the adults spoke of friends
far away or long dead
they’d laugh and tell stories
which we were not a part of yet
we ran wild through the night
afraid of nothing
(July 18, 2020)
-
templates
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (76)
so many boundaries
are employed
in any definition
the outlines cut
from what is not
are as important
as what remains
a pattern
even with
a patch
bears a pattern
if not original in intent
with care I fold my words
into this conversation
like origami cranes
from crisp white paper
(July 14, 2020)
-
answers require supplicants
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (75)
with a hand lightly
touching a wall
as guide where
do you turn when
there is no wall
to the left
to the right
(July 13, 2020)
-
Metaphor’s Threat
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (74)
It is hard to hear
what must be said
easy to fall
into cliche
a pair of shoes
softly worn old
they know the way
to take you home
as cows wear down
a simple path
between one place
and another
no difference
really matters
our thoughts carve out
the same channels
and run like rats
trapped in a maze
never pausing
to look for more
than what was there
the last time here
repetition
a common thread
comforts us all
with old ideas
and traps us too
with such fools as I
(July 11, 2020)
-
source
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey”(73)
beneath this static
this white noise
silence flows
unnoticed
pervasive
the river’s source
as in prayer i kneel
cup my hands
and drink
(July 9, 2020)
-
even now I hear them (a reading)
even now I hear them
from a work in progress: process, not a journey (72)
“Sea, I am like you, filled with broken voices”
—Guillaume Apollinaire
insistent demanding attention
soft whispers curl at my feet
like cats they claw at me
with their sharp reminders
lightly pulling at my skin
until the ground is awash
in the blood of memory
and then slightly below the surface
small phrases embedded in dead
conversations rise like tattered faces
from the sea to mouth their silent
vowels like fish dying in the sand
until the raw scraps of language
in which I am tangled
are cast out in a storm surge
far out among the dark waves
and I drown choking
with nothing to say
(July 6, 2020)
-
even now I hear them
by
from a work in progress: process, not a journey (72)
“Sea, I am like you, filled with broken voices”
—Guillaume Apollinaire
insistent demanding attention
soft whispers curl at my feet
like cats they claw at me
with their sharp reminders
lightly pulling at my skin
until the ground is awash
in the blood of memory
and then slightly below the surface
small phrases embedded in dead
conversations rise like tattered faces
from the sea to mouth their silent
vowels like fish dying in the sand
until the raw scraps of language
in which I am tangled
are cast out in a storm surge
far out among the dark waves
and I drown choking
with nothing to say
(July 6, 2020)
-
there’s no time
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (71)
some time after sunrise I wake
go downstairs book notebook
pen in hand make coffee take
my meds check various
social platforms eat some thing
shower get dressed
sometimes read sometimes write
sometimes nap wake
cook dinner wash the dishes
watch TV listen to music and
then after some time go to sleep
(July 2, 2020)
-
through a summer afternoon
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (70)
the cat rolls
like time
into the sun
(July 2, 2020)
-
Afternoon Light
by
from a work in progress, “process, not a journey”(69)
the grey cat sits
on the table by the window
and watches the mockingbird
on the elm outside
.
I watch her patience
today and yesterday
and last week
and think she’s oblivious
to sit so stoically
day after day
without hope
of any desires’
consummation
.
I lose my way each day
throughout the day
thinking of this
then distracted by that
as if the unspecified contains
some mysterious truth
more than a cat
sitting in the sun
(June 28, 2020)
-
past imperfect tense
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey: (68)
“I cannot keep my dreams straight.”
-Franz Kafka
some nights most nights
after a whiskey or more
years if not decades
swirl like blue smoke
at my feet
and I forget
where I am as time
falls away like an old drunk
stumbling on my way home
the familiar story
the soft path alters
and strangers step out
of the dark laughing
vaguely and I have forgotten
why I’m laughing
then laugh again
(June 23, 2020)
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