As if I have anything
to say, I ponificate
more than I listen;
a silent skull one
assumes is laughing.
(July 18, 2019)
-
A Gleaner Dons a Disguise
by
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)
-
drowning
by
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)
-
eros
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)
-
Before Completion
by
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)
-
-
Confession as a Form of Explanation
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)
-
Preponderance of the Small
by
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
At nine I wrote a poem
to a girl in my class — a love poem.
Today fifty years later,
I still write poetry.
Like a small bird flits
between branches, poetry
and love intertwine through
my life giving shape and succor
to even the quietest moment.
(June 30, 2019)
-
After the Trigger’s Pulled
by
Blood spatter slurs
on wet tile:
rorschach blots
without interpretations
(June 29, 2019)
-
Inner Truth
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
somewhere, nearby
vague, yet pervasive,
like these whispers
which define all
as some other than me,
some other voice–
always here
not just an echo
of myself
(June 24, 2019)
-
Without Clearly Marked Exits
by
A room carved
into his heart–
no door,
but a room
without a candle.
His heart
a hollow room
without a candle.
He desired a candle,
to watch it burn,
but there was no match,
or he would burn,
the world would burn,
the house would burn
into ash,
into ash,
into ash:
ash
and wind.
(June 20, 2019)
-
Revision to a Desired Narrative
A scintillant dust
shallows his breath;
memory hovers above
them both, a ghost-
vague, yet resonant,
like tattered filament,
shrouds, or tendons
lifted slowly from bone.
Even shaped to reform,
nascent affirmation’s
echoes are just
echoes blurring whispers
into silence, like wisps
adrift between gravestones.
(June 20, 2019)
-
Hubris
by
Not the one, or the one,
but one:
Humility
strikes down
even gods.
I am who I am,
but without
the silence to kill.
I forgive us both
the slippery hope we shared.
Together we were more
than one discordant circle.
Wrapped in dry mouth’s
slow-tongued kiss,
we blurred beneath
late autumnal leaves.
(June 16, 2019)
-
Limitation
by
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
Image property of the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY. Random borders set blurred forms
to contain apportioned bits
of chaos. He accepts these
chains, like religion, to free
himself from the infinite.
(June 10, 2019)
