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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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  • Patchwork

    by

    change, definition, lament, loss, poetry, unstable

    I find a narrative,

    as I age, hard

    to patch together.

    I cannot mend

    all that I have

    rendered, all

    I have misplaced

    in anger, and neglect.

    I have no prologue

    to explain succinctly

    each switchback

    I have turned along.

    It’s easier to see

    a moment without a past;

    easier to mind the flower

    as a petal first falls.

    What scars I have

    are well hid; no

    stars to weave

    a pattern in the sky.

    (July 31, 2019)

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  • the decay

    by

    aging, broken, identity formation, poetry, worn

    Bit by bit,

    he felt it:

    his belief,

    his life–

    fall away.

    He was worn,

    frayed, but

    no longer just

    along his edges;

    Like mouths

    tangled in

    unvoiced lies,

    large rifts

    opened,

    and he was

    devoured.

    No one was

    left to watch

    for the last

    wet-blooded thud

    in the dirt.

    (July 31, 2019)

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  • Hidden in the Calligraphy

    by

    abstract, belief, clarity, language, meditation, poetry, truth, words, writing

    Yielding more

    than simple correspondences,

    or letters marked in a ledger,

    words bend fields

    through which we see

    distortions and clarities

    reflected like sunlight

    in a waterfall’s spume.

    they reveal and cloak

    certainties in our unease

    with what we should believe

    as true, and what we know

    to be a lie as we speak.

    (July 29, 2019)

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  • Drift Into Absence

    by

    alone, erato, love, muse, poetry, relationships, unrequited

    There was no time

    for good-bye.

    And, what she promised

    would never happen, did:

    she was gone;

    he was not.

    (July 27, 2019)

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  • Arithmetic Progression

    by

    acceptance, aging, humility, identity formation, meditation, perspective, poetry, syllabics

    Here,

    Now:

    my day,

    my days,

    my lost ways–

    once again

    drag me along

    singing some song,

    as if I can change

    the world with a word;

    as if I can compete

    with the comfort of god:

    knowing what will happen next,

    knowing why I’m here at all.

    (July 25, 2019)

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  • stucco

    by

    abstract, poetry

    like pressed flowers

    found in an old book

    the world grows flat

    long passages of white

    on white– white sand

    below a white sky

    holding a white sun

    a black line defines

    the horizon like a closed eye

    there’s no sleep in this noise

    no rest from the silent mundane

    oozing across a glass pane

    the snail’s slow slime

    becomes the air we traverse

    connecting the featureless day

    to the homogeneous night

    clouds press low like stones

    (July 24, 2019)

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  • The Commute Between Day and Dream

    by

    despair, dream, existential angst, liminal, memory, patterns, poetry, traces

    Lost amid the accusations

    and misappropriations

    in bars and vague hallways,

    he wakes into his troubles

    unable to disaggregate

    his shadows from the dawn.

    Behind him, they trail ribbons

    of smoke, curling about his feet

    like cats hunting rats,

    whenever he stops to think.

    From frozen puddles, old friends

    and loves rise toward him;

    their faces blurred beneath ice.

    They then sink away, as quickly,

    leaving him to shuffle his fingers

    uncomfortably across the steering wheel

    as he waits for the light to change.

    (July 24, 2019)

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  • A Thin Arrogance

    by

    broken, communication, delusion, humility, lament, poetry, sentence

    As if I have anything

    to say, I ponificate

    more than I listen;

    a silent skull one

    assumes is laughing.

    (July 18, 2019)

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  • A Gleaner Dons a Disguise

    by

    broken, delusion, dissatisfaction, fragments, identity formation, loss, muse, patterns, poetry, process, sentence

    From bits she left behind,

    he pieces himself together:

    thousands of shards sifted,

    then rearranged to form

    fused-glass mosaics

    into patterned fascimiles

    others easily recognize.

    (July 18, 2019)

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  • drowning

    by

    acceptance, broken, frustration, liminal, lost, oblivious, poetry

    an inch is as easy

    as an ocean

    to drown, we venture

    into waves, unafraid

    one is different

    from the next and next

    rolling vast undulations

    toward the horizons

    (July 13, 2019)

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  • eros

    by

    change, eros, haiku, imagism, love, lust, poetry, relationships, sonnets, tanka

    four haiku with a tanka couplet

    her nightgown slips

    past her hips

    as she steps toward him

    *

    her skin cool

    beneath the sheets

    simmers at his touch

    *

    a fan rattles

    over tangled sheets;

    cicada pulse the heat outside.

    *

    she wakes before dawn,

    and slips from bed,

    leaving him alone

    *

    like rain in drought, we

    desire what remains

    (July 8, 2019)

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  • Before Completion

    by

    chance, change, clarity, end, fear, hope, i ching, meditation, metaphor, patience, poetry, politics, restraint

    from “Rendition of Change,” a work in progress

    The old tortoise-shell cat slips

    cautiously through the grass

    as the storm approaches.

    This-too-shall-pass provides

    small comfort in the moment’s

    chaos and fear. Lightning strikes

    often and nearby. As rain

    starts to fall, the cat watches,

    motionless, from the stair.

    (July 3, 2019)

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  • After Completion

    by

    chance, change, cycle, haiku, i ching, poetry, tension

    from “Rendition of Change” a work in progress

    A juggler balances plates

    to thunderous applause;

    he smiles, and they all fall.

    (July 2, 2019)

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  • Love’s Sole Cry

    by

    haiku, love, poetry, relationships

    hold me again

    tonight

    against the night

    (June 30, 2019)

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  • Confession as a Form of Explanation

    by

    belief, control, meaning, poetry, process, storytelling, truth

    My story is true in so far

    as it is my story. The lines

    I must maintain for my belief

    to be justified are many.

    I fear questions lest it all falls

    like a child’s tower of blocks falls,

    tumbled across unstable ground.

    Although I know that the truth lies

    for I formed each one on my own,

    turning them over and over

    like rosary beads until smooth,

    they still allow me to believe

    each stone lies firmly on the next.

    With no one to doubt what I say,

    the facade I have built is real

    I explain to myself myself:

    I live forms of happiness

    As long as the ever after,

    and the hero is always me.

    (June 30, 2019)

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