Prepare yourself; shadows
leaking over ridges
in the mountains
lengthen.
Not one but three
hawks circling
the fallen prize-
circling.
Blackness growing in
the toothless woods
hurries towards the valley
eating light.
Just outside the safety
of your house, evening
knows the secrets
of your heart;
prepare yourself, shadows
bringing home your grief,
a phantom of your sorrow.
Deeply, like Rain
Everywhere, rain following
rain. Everything
in the world
is drinking.
We could be happy if
I could hold you
captive in this
storm. Even I,
am beautiful
when its raining.
rain. Everything
in the world
is drinking.
We could be happy if
I could hold you
captive in this
storm. Even I,
am beautiful
when its raining.
An Ordinary Morning
The less you look
for happiness, the more
you find it. I am not surprised
or puzzled by the darkness.
What leaves no visible sign of
being- the oiled palm print,
the disarray of foliage altered
by a heavy foot, the streak of
daylight bleeding in a summer sky,
the shadow of a passing bird
moments before disappearing
into a wall of fog and cloud-
need not be understood.
Everywhere is sadness, shame
nothing saves us from it. Here,
I close my eyes and quickly see
rays of light, blazing edges burning
outward like an ordinary sun just
rising in an ordinary morning.
for happiness, the more
you find it. I am not surprised
or puzzled by the darkness.
What leaves no visible sign of
being- the oiled palm print,
the disarray of foliage altered
by a heavy foot, the streak of
daylight bleeding in a summer sky,
the shadow of a passing bird
moments before disappearing
into a wall of fog and cloud-
need not be understood.
Everywhere is sadness, shame
nothing saves us from it. Here,
I close my eyes and quickly see
rays of light, blazing edges burning
outward like an ordinary sun just
rising in an ordinary morning.
Capturing
Cup the hands into a bed to
hold the sick bird, gently place
on colored leaves; the sky
does not appear to notice,
a piece of it is dying.
Roll the hands like periscope,
frame the moon. A hole of light,
a tunnel to the soul emerges,
haunting, lovely. Later, in the evening
stand beneath the cedar trees; listen
to the silence of its shining.
Open up the hands for sleeping;
fingers poised to catch a dream or
shadows moving over linen hills
like waves of sea. Forget the hands,
the heart will tell you, mark
its drum, the beating darkness.
Use the muscle, its hollow rooms
to capture love.
hold the sick bird, gently place
on colored leaves; the sky
does not appear to notice,
a piece of it is dying.
Roll the hands like periscope,
frame the moon. A hole of light,
a tunnel to the soul emerges,
haunting, lovely. Later, in the evening
stand beneath the cedar trees; listen
to the silence of its shining.
Open up the hands for sleeping;
fingers poised to catch a dream or
shadows moving over linen hills
like waves of sea. Forget the hands,
the heart will tell you, mark
its drum, the beating darkness.
Use the muscle, its hollow rooms
to capture love.
To Save A Poem
The fire burns fierce and primitive like a cleansing angel. Thick black smoke pours out from the flaming house. I was lucky to have awakened to. Now I'm fighting to get back in.
They grab me, wrestles me to the ground. I struggle like a wild animal. They don't give in. My tears explode from eyes.
The fire truck comes too late. The crowd gasps as the house destructs. I finally free myself and rush into the ruins.
My relief shouts to heaven. The mob watches astonished as I emerge jubilant kissing a black notebook.
“He done gone crazy,” they exclaim.
I laugh even harder.
And then I begin to eat my words.
The fire burns fierce and primitive like a cleansing angel. Thick black smoke pours out from the flaming house. I was lucky to have awakened to. Now I'm fighting to get back in.
They grab me, wrestles me to the ground. I struggle like a wild animal. They don't give in. My tears explode from eyes.
The fire truck comes too late. The crowd gasps as the house destructs. I finally free myself and rush into the ruins.
My relief shouts to heaven. The mob watches astonished as I emerge jubilant kissing a black notebook.
“He done gone crazy,” they exclaim.
I laugh even harder.
And then I begin to eat my words.
To Live in This World
Those circles beneath your eyes
like bruises; those lips that rise
subtle as the Mona Lisa smiles-
a disappointed mystery.
Who doesn't love the ringlets
dancing off your neck? What
star's beauty suffers from a lack
of pleasure?
For miracles, alone, I stop to
ponder how the light reflects,
cast back, regressed and shining
on your blessed face.
If sadness sketched is loneliness,
if where you look, my heart must
follow; there is rapture in my body-
there is rapture.
What If I Were
The night has offered me
its womb; canal of darkness,
memory. That which God
fears most- abandonment.
I hear the silence in
your bones, the snapping
of your injured wing; we know
that mourning, gracefully
removes destruction.
How can I believe or bless
the wounded in its ruin?
Whose faith correlates with
leaving what you've found
for being what you've been?
its womb; canal of darkness,
memory. That which God
fears most- abandonment.
I hear the silence in
your bones, the snapping
of your injured wing; we know
that mourning, gracefully
removes destruction.
How can I believe or bless
the wounded in its ruin?
Whose faith correlates with
leaving what you've found
for being what you've been?
overillumination
the world is growing thin
the impressions you get
are passed off like they
were papers in an album
someone ripped out
last week came to no
culmination, no apocalypse,
even though we fasted
on our way up to Duluth
all that paper, all around,
circling in the yellows
and the reds of changing
aspens, the fierce swans
of the wetlands fading out
Wake the Wolf
Wolf, I woke you! I was but tremble
in your prowl; fierce-eyed horse,
remember how I rode you into battle.
Now, you cling to hollow brooks,
fern across your brow; the smell of
soil in your claw, your homeland
takes you from me.
How I wish my fish-pale hands,
useless as a ghost could follow
through forest, field and rivulet
your midnight gallop.
in your prowl; fierce-eyed horse,
remember how I rode you into battle.
Now, you cling to hollow brooks,
fern across your brow; the smell of
soil in your claw, your homeland
takes you from me.
How I wish my fish-pale hands,
useless as a ghost could follow
through forest, field and rivulet
your midnight gallop.
The Guest
Pulled down like root,
secret, twisting, I neglect
the city's splendour-
sleepy cafes, gleaming
streets, young girls leaning
out cotton-curtain balconies
to watch the urchins play
below with stolen fruit. Did it rain
today? I would not know
or care to know; these eyes
sunk down inside their heart.
If I were guest, this riverbed
would greet me, now it's body
barely moving, shuts me out.
The light it needs, the whirling
skylarks often feeding from
its tangled banks are missing;
what is missing walks with me.
poem
The garden that began my education,
the asphault path that took me by the wrist,
in days succumbed; in nights lie interlaced.
Our shelves are now inclined planes. Superstition
boils upon the airwaves as a swarm
of perfect famymaho watches fast
this mild marmoreal bard unspool his parsed
stutterings: escape is on the lam.
The garden is a pit of spammers. Yet
there will be looking back, sans albatross,
and cured of zeyg we neither curse nor bless
these orotund melees with bloodshed fraught.
I wait beside, disarmed, the park of asphault.
About Forever
Of heaven: gaping eye,
all silence, light. A sea
of light; white, white
silence. Of darkness:
implausible, distant
distance. Not like
anchored night but wider
as in blindness. Of spaces:
wall of fire, shadowed wood,
floorless room. Floating,
falling, hacking,
bending. About forever:
enormous waiting,
sleeping, waking,
dreaming; no escaping,
no departure.
all silence, light. A sea
of light; white, white
silence. Of darkness:
implausible, distant
distance. Not like
anchored night but wider
as in blindness. Of spaces:
wall of fire, shadowed wood,
floorless room. Floating,
falling, hacking,
bending. About forever:
enormous waiting,
sleeping, waking,
dreaming; no escaping,
no departure.
Time
(for d.k.)
let's have it framed:
the double in (disappears)
the single differrence (appears)
notes on the fridge
door, verses, lines
all modalities of the empty in
the voice is us vulnerable it is
it needs its being so bad it
the voice is us vulnerable it is
it needs its being so bad it
could cut
the voice making time
for wont of play &
you play with time
as time makes you
together
sotospeak
it could be
truthwalling
out of the in
truthwalling
out of the in
into the out (a
prepared statement
to fetch the data markers
that we once pinned there
where some of our
souls fled a flare
that was too bright for
how they lust after
the grainy texture
of the move into
the obscure)
that we once pinned there
where some of our
souls fled a flare
that was too bright for
how they lust after
the grainy texture
of the move into
the obscure)
(a condition of
the procedure)
(anyway we too
are lost we grief
our lack as we split
ourselves
each time another
one eternity )
so while i break here into
now fire occurs in yellow
ochre & some chalkdust
as well use it ? well
we'll see or wait we'll
we'll see or wait we'll
compete with
running loops
the standing
record is
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