subtext

My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
  • Rock and Roll High School
  • About

Designed with WordPress

  • One Vision

    by

    broken, change, conversation, erasure, frustration, paradigms, poetry, sonnets, ways of knowing

              “Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak’

    –William Shakespeare
    I must confess my difference,
    since silent acquiescence
    and remorse is not enough.
    I must accept my submission
    and perform the right ritual
    at each prescribed station.
    I must explain each misstep
    along the way to arrive
    at the heart of my wrongs.
    I must take these knives and
    with a calligraphic slash
    inscribe my myopic heart.
    The sentence is written for me,
    and nothing will change.

    (February 10, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Valentines

    by

    erato, eros, half sonnets, happiness, love, lust, poetry, sevenlings
    Three Sevenlings
    1.
    Decades have gone passed
    since we were young and
    walked through Paris streets.
    Nude, you walk toward me
    whisky in your hand;
    the bed sheets crumpled.
    I desire you still
    2.
    Every evening, we
    discuss the mundane—
    love’s soft ritual.
    Your touch lessens fear,
    holds me to center,
    burns away the fray.
    I find peace with you.
    3.
    I can’t sleep tonight;
    you have gone away.
    One night is too long.
    Even in silence,
    I want to be here,
    because you are here.
    Here we still are.

    (February 8, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • making sense

    by

    abstract, control, meaning, memory, poetry, sonnets, ways of knowing
    memory ‘s either an affirmation
    or a whip snapping overhead
    keeping one tight in the traces
    who are you to contradict
    the space into which you’ve fallen
    or the laughter you’re allowed
    your ontic scream’s absorbed
    the ground’s soft and wet
    no shadows flicker the wall
    the past rearranges simple
    explanations into present
    comfort’s inevitability
    until another delusion
    reshuffles to fit again
    (February 6, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • at the end

    by

    aging, definition, identity formation, poetry, sonnets, time, worn
    a collapse an implosion
    what sense of my self
    remains as crumpled paper
    or  crushed containers
    I beg enough time
    to look inward or outward
    to bleed out or staunch
    the flood onto the floor
    each moment matters
    the mundane and tense
    adrenaline fueled turns
    hold no difference
    I am not a monolith
    I am not your construct

    (February 6, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • A Fool Gains Self-awareness

    by

    acceptance, change, clarity, desire, erato, eros, melodrama, poetry
    His soft gestures
    of seduction fell
    unnoticed, or, at best,
    unremarked, saving
    him from himself
    through his awkward starts
    and vague stutters.
    From fear or prudence,
    he let go of what
    he never had. He now
    brings a dull clarity
    to how he wants to
    remember that moment’s
    infatuation– the seven
    year obsession still
    whispering in his ear
    like the slow pulse
    and flicker that remains
    the next morning
    from last night’s fire.
    (February 3, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Be Aware, Beware

    by

    attention, existential angst, poetry, ways of knowing
    a sand grain blake displayed
    as if a seer and discerned
    amid the silica’s glisten
    this from that and now in then
    you too can be as he
    and look up and out
    next to some exited sea
    to watch with horror
    clawing from deep within
    the beast shed its skin
    then see all that we be
    swallowed in infinity
    yes you too can hold still
    each grain’s initial fall
    to see away from here
    and the everything in all

    (February 2, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • that begat the troubles today

    by

    abstract, change, definition, erasure, life, obsessions, paradigms, poetry, transition

    he thinks what he thinks
    as he walks his walk
    through hallways out doors
    into rooms as if space
    could be contained separate
    from himself in thought on
    thought of something other
    than the next step the next
    possibility’s assumption
    that’s then parsed thin
    like prosciutto melting salty
    across his ravaged tongue
    there the world wavers anew
    into another and another
    as each singular event perishes
    into itself and the other trailing
    ahead like snail’s antennae’s
    pulse and stretch toward some
    sense until it  too’s devoured
    in obliteration’s wet maw
    (February 1, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • the rattled bones of the spirit

    by

    anger, broken, community, death, despair, fear, poetry, politics, power, response, worry

    days since I wrote
    too tumultuous with worry
    and fear to think much
    news filled with doubt
    as chains are dragged about
    so blatant and quick
    I say there is no god
    yet evil secretes bile
    across fallow fields
    panic clots my throat
    I cannot breathe
    enough to speak
    I am lost
    and cannot scream

    (January 30, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • projection’s shapes

    by

    change, love, nature, patterns, perspective, poetry, sonnets

    his face turns from his crucified body
    to a swimmer leaping arms outstretched
    through a sentient sky. What we become
    is reflected in the dry ground we strive
    to transcend like smoke’s ecstatic dance
    or the murmur of  starling’s pulsing
    across a morning’s autumnal sky.
    If I say George Washington’s face manifests
    in the sky, diaphanous white clouds
    woven in deepest blue, shall I mistake
    your laughter for delight more than derision?
    Could I turn the clouds outside my window
    into the countless things they are not,
    like the words I wish I had said to you?
    (January 26, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Field Trip

    by

    attention, beauty, change, memory, poetry, revision, sonnets, time
    I leapt up the mountain river
    rock to rock each turn and leap
    a new revelation oh look
    then look again to see anew
    an inlaid distraction explode
    the laughing froth splashing
    about my dancing feet then
    almost thirty years later
    on a bus filled with students
    that moment on that rock
    in that river ecstatically opens
    like her initial kiss almost
    as if time’s inevitable
    profundity ceased to exist

    (January 26, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • Eruption

    by

    anger, interrelationships, poetry
    Rending the calm silence,
    Rage thrashes about the house;
    a bear slashing the air,
    leaving us all in tatters.

    (January 24, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • recluse

    by

    alone, control, courage, doubt, poetry
    uncertainty cloaks most
    encounters with a glazed
    misunderstanding enough so
    he rarely ventures out confident
    he’s safe within his decisions

    (January 24, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • hunger hurts like desire

    by

    assignment, erato, eros, love, lust, poetry, response, sappho

    after sappho

    it’s easy to pick up an apple
    from the ground and be sated;
    you were always out of reach.

    (January 17, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • enough

    by

    attention, context, creativity, dance, desire, erato, poetics, poetry, process, sonnets, ways of knowing

    “The point is not to find a reader, the point is the telling itself.”
                            –Anne Carson
    thought arises like sacrifice
    burning flesh and ash to heaven
    within the word before the word
    and then gone at the last
    I struggle inside and desire
    response without prerequisite
    outside ventures to initiate
    myself into fire’s circling dance
    darkness gathers on the edge
    and whispers to the flames
    let me in let me through
    let me sing this night to you
    no other hears the flutter
    of soft footsteps in the dust
    (January 17, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…
  • tattoos

    by

    broken, definition, despair, fate, fragments, identity formation, lament, life, poetry, sonnets, tired
    I am inscribed,
    the words scratched
    into my skin like sin.
    I have forgotten
    where I stopped
    being whole, when
    the fragments fell
    like icebergs
    calving into the sea.
    Incremental moments
    of unremarked cowardice
    chipped bits away,
    until the lies I’ve told
    became the life I led.

    (January 15, 2017)

    Share this:

    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky
    • Share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads
    Like Loading…




«Previous Poem Next Poem»
  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • subtext
    • Join 407 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • subtext
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
%d