LOST/JUST

September 15, 2016

 

 

I

For now, awhile, I won’t let you pull me from the wreckage/

But, how you hold my hand, for both of us

Until the jaws of life  arrives/

Tho’ I’m not at a lost of words, I’m lost

In thought / “I’m lost”, I thought,

“And hiding from the hidden costs.”

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         II.  Birdsong
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I’ll dare to speak of sparrows

in shrapnel-filled WW I  battlefield winds,

in sharp scarlet dawns/

They’ll sing to find their kind

if they’ve  lived,

A song will find its way back,

between the  blood & budding daybreak.

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   III.    J U S T
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it could be/ a branch of a tree

perched at a high hill

would have a new bud  just

breaking through/ it would be just for you

and in time  a blossom.  You’d just

lift yr arm up/ and pull it down/ just in time

to drink it through

with yr deepest stealing breath.///

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(from 2009)

“Would you complain because a beautiful sunset doesn’t have a future or a shooting star a payoff? And why should romance ‘lead anywhere’? Passion isn’t a path through the woods. Passion is the woods.”
― Tom Robbins

 

 

I wonder when one day

We’ll pocket our passions

They’ll fasten  in look-see  neck  lockets

Soon it’ll just seem fair

To wear them

She’ll share hers in sunlight sidewalks.

 

Fashion  will see to it  someday & night We

Could  unabashedly

Could undress off our soft underthings

Could  show  softer

Bold  and  tender

Expressings

I’m no man who takes stock

Or should be shocked by

Omens.

But I bet it was  one day

Or less,  I honestly met

Two unlucky others having,

Both, unlikely christian names..

Both  “Heaven”.

I take it I’m not too long

On this old

Achy world?

Just because I joked

Last night  at friends

Arthritis in my hands

Might makes it easier

It takes not so slow

To let go of the rail?

 

 

 

AFTER SHE LEFT (Excerpt 1)

August 23, 2016

It’s nonsense you live on

As a sensitive one

False walls should fall

As you give pause to yr farce

I doubt insulation bubbles

Pop so fun  when you can’t stop so

And  open  up

Wounds  et al.

 

PORTENDING A PORTAL

August 16, 2016

 

 

When the carousel  comes to where…

When the maelstrom makes certain turns to…

“This is where I came in!”

I’ll quip, and wink, and break up the fourth wall

I’ll step off,  & start off,  forcing a freefall,

& any form of  free  I will welcome.

If I find my feet  I can become

A pilgrim  on path,

A pilgrim back  filling his path.

 

REVISITATION

August 16, 2016

 

If You’ll find  it’s kinda fate  you kinda understand.

You’ll knock the gun out of the goombah’s hand.

It’s sent to the pavement

Between you   and all the rest.

When you wrestle it from circumstance

Then Do you got the go to go the distance?

 

FROM PROVIDENCE TO HALIFAX

August 11, 2016

When it’s come to

Coming to in a ditch  without bruises from a beating

& the new thorns are actual thorns

& not all metaphorical ones

All I knew then   I once was thinking

I’d drink my way from Providence to Halifax

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An  “attendant” was sure hell bent

On adjusting my posture

The arms that aimed to secure mine;

They’re hardly hair-free like hers was, were soft. freckled and warm.

 

 

of all the lies

in the air

that this liar

is truely unaware of

(is  ’truely’  the right word?)

of all the lies

casual and caressing there

the air currents  n

night-blooming jasmine

(is  ’current’  the correct word?)

the stolen ones, emboldened lies

(I’ve told em. All alchemy.)

are all born, arabesque,

of an open pen pumping onto paper,

.

from nothing.

S A D D I S H

August 8, 2016

 

“It’s a desperately vexatious thing, that after all one’s reflections and quiet determinations, we should be ruled by moods that one can’t calculate on beforehand.” ―

                                                           George Eliot, Adam Bede  

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She’s  pulling  up  stakes.

For fulfilling dreams wait for her there.

Somewhere else.  Somewhere farther

From this dry dream here.

I love her so I can let it go.

From two hundred to twelve hundred

Miles to walk, away.

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1

It  stands  to  reason  that

I understand  It’s a good plan  to move,

It gets me in the throat.

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2

I  could  call  it  logical.

get it./ We’ve yet to use unwise  love.

“I’ve got a good hooded coat.”

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3

I  guess  it  makes  some  sense.

It gets me to make  no move.

It got me in my throat.

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It’s all  a saddish  & maddening wishing well.

I’m still a man

Who can sit so still

 

 

 

YES, THE SEQUENCES GO

August 4, 2016

 

 

 

Yes, the sequences go, this set’s pro-

gressing.  We stand in our streams,

Study up our storm weather,

We’re all under the weather.

Yes, the compass is off-putting.

Yet we’ll Guess & fully dare  come push there the river?

We’ll willfully  dare   footing?

Or go on down   downflow?

Or go on

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