I’m worn,
Exhausted,
Without laughter.
Each moment haunts
Anxiety’s edge,
And waits
With a studied
Grace, for chance
To become propitious.
Hold me here
To outwait
The passing fear:
The troubled night,
The knife at my throat.
(November 4, 2017)
-
Fate
Presumptuous tropes
Slip like ropes around my neck.
We are never free.
(October 31, 2017)
-
Place Holder
so studied
in his circumstance,
each vibration sings
into a new key
like kisses
yet to be
as the combination
of the small
falls like tumblers
in a lock
and all we ever were
becomes fractured
yet secure
(October 31, 20170
-
Position
by
“We live between walls.
We inhabit conditions we term chance,
Sequence, and agency, this is a place where things
Happen, we can say “on that date things.”
- Lyn Hejinian
and things do– daily,
happen, but only just
out of site, some else
not you, not me, not
a place nearby, only
just away unnoticed—
still, close to claim
a space, not your you,
but some other coheres
as now, then, the same
depends so much
upon another word
as sound to change
a difference only
just enough to care
which box where
you’re shoveled
with other things
until gone and things
do daily without you
(October 31, 2017)
-
The Correlate in Memory’s Grain
With no ledger to fixTime, memory’s allowedWithout accountability.It rebuffs reason’s harshCausal relationshipsAs unnecessary chains.Yes, that trailed this,But more of a simpleCoincidence than a confluenceOf desires. You know this;Yet, like him, still believeWhat you will manifestsAs fate, an inevitableFlowering of happenstance.(October 26, 2017) -
before words silence
we did not knownor if we couldno tense to timeno thing definedno I nor youno we nor meno other otherto disagreeall was peaceall was lightno one knewdead of nightI could not sayFor all was grey(October 25, 2017) -
Then Those Words I Thought Now
he told a storyshe did not listenuntil months perhaps yearslater as she rinsedher thick hairher eyes closedskating alongthe edge of epiphanythe water cascadinglike timeacross her shouldersin which illusiondo we livethe one told the one heardthe one we each remembertomorrow we will knowsomething more something lessfragments traces wispsloss and gainchange(October 20, 2017) -
I Remember Now
Yesterday,Like today,Spans echoes,RipplesA parenthesisTo cordon meNow, and thenAgain, untilA calmSettles stillUpon the lake’sStark surface.I am a seerTo forget at will.(October 17, 2017) -
Chop Wood
If I can contain this space,Circle what strength I haveTo push against the dark—Then perhaps another hourMay be harvested—Another moment survived.Like resentment,The fire flares againThen returns to ember.I have no responseBeyond remorse,And that is not enough.This is where I am—Waiting on winter.(October 16, 2017) -
What’s Left
by
I hold nothingBut your absence,An empty shellDry and chalky.My words fracture,Then flake like plasterCast fakes decayingOver time into dust.Residual layers formedAnd held under pressureCoat the landscapeIn an amniotic cowl,As love’s stark remnantLingers in the dark.(October 15, 2017) -
A Mirror Sees Only Itself
by
“my nature/is a quagmire of unresolved /confessions”–Robert Creeley, The DoorI resist autobiographicalInterpretations others implyWhen they ask about my work.I do not write to you, norEven for you. I am noPlacebo to numb your pain;No multi-car pile upTo drive by relievedThat it is some other;No prurient desire to lingerOver, dripping hungerLike an open wound.Yes, I write this; yet, youCome only to see yourself.(October 12, 2017) -
to lost friends
“some sunny day”vera lynnI hope your life is trueAnd you are happy as you are—I miss you, with your explosiveLaughter, and intense sincerity(October 12, 2017) -
Memory’s Indifference
by
“You have not made me suffer,merely wait.”–Pablo Nerudain the ignorance of dreamwe walked almostas if togetherlike empty mailboxesfor unwritten letterswait with purposewe wait withinour wanderingneither lost nor foundto say merely abandonedpresumes an aspect of ignoranceabsent in silencewhere we were where we arrivedremains indeterminate(October 11, 2017) -
Silt
by
I wake into uneaseGeneric and vagueYet near enoughTo feel its breathThick and hotAlong my neckI don’t knowHow to extractLaughterFrom thisIt bears downEqually over allA slow accumulationOf sediment(October 7, 2017)
