April 27, 2017
” Had Richardson sat in the piercing shade…”
You’ll say, “In lieu of with us in the
Cruel, as a rule, sun on us.
He’d, it’d suffice to say, suffer less, unless
It’d be meaningful to a man like him to show.”
I’ll go, “Sure enough, he’ll tough it home to suffer, tho’
I think that ,yes, later at blackest ink late,
He’ll love chopping onions, through all of their skins,
To sweeten his red sauce. String section perfecting chaos as its tuning just begins.
One escape, esconsed in wet white cotton drapings,
Kind chimey showers
Keep rhythms in Richardson’s shapings.
They can steepen, that man’s dreams’ healing powers.”
April 21, 2017
Please presume It’s unsure for you as well
Assume We’re leaning
(an intangible caress)
I lean into
The careening custody of my mess.
April 21, 2017
An ordinary miracle
Might make my day good night.
An everyday freak hailstorm
Should soften the certain gravitas of agony..
Would my monday to monday/ Gone on to a good gravy, when
My dumptruck of good luck sails in?
All this will be laid to waste.
Then strong sprouts/ in not long/ will no doubt
Green the place.
(5 yrs back)
April 18, 2017
Walking, mostly neat in clockwork close meter,
Warmer ghosts from my former features;
All the roles, All the resume’,
Falling in line, Just the crew to rescue me.
Faded as sad old soldiers, parted.
(Vain fantasies say old glories stay guarded)
Again, always, They had heaved it all in a heavy chest.
Again, always, they had heaved in their chest
Taking it to heart & head.
I’ll call it for you my own VFW
hall. I have my own tall tales to tell,
We’ll share lies, & libations.
I’ll wear my mightier pen.
I’ll share sham wisdom wide open.
But first, false memories in verse.
& what’s worst, I’ll con, & confide open.
“I’m ready to go anywhere/ I’m ready for to fade/ Into my own parade”
—————-Dylan (the troubadour one), from “Mr. Tambourine Man”
“Every hero becomes a bore, at last.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
. (5 yrs back)
April 14, 2017
If I’d insist on playing the pacifist
(I’m maybe miscast)
I’d resist being all-too-willing
to killing time.
If I would want to resist the persistent praying
For my mercy, for all our mercy,
Inarticulate verses of mercy,
Maybe I’d want to take steps,
I’d want to take things into my own hands,
Maybe I’d want to take on the task
Of yanking my mask off,
Of thinking of thanking
Tho’ I’d heed less
April 12, 2017
Blackened breezes rustle
Sacred/ olive trees, skies muscled thick.
I took a sight that set me more lost
More sour than seasick.
I see him, knees bloodied,
Face drawn/ down
I was being/ once/
Just a man also.
I spied/ by my back down
To my murk/
I cried/ by my own shadow,
But did not cry out,
To interrupt all that too intimate.
When I was a young/ more willful man,
I fasted/ from dawn friday
Until the last of easter/ Today
I’m past that/ I take the families
To the best italian place,
For sacrificial lamb & blood red wine
& all before that, maybe grace.
April 8, 2017
An imaginary friend, a French kid, he calls
(They call the wind mistral)
All the Northern winter wind..mistral.
En Francais, one says, Eventhough baby jesus…
Creche shepherds are threatened by mistral.
They hold on to their hats, insteada solomnly go
Doffing their fuckin desert chapeaux.
March 29, 2017
“You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or stick to some straight line…
In the church they light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There is the hope and hopelessness
I’ve witnessed all these years.”
-Joni Mitchell, from “Hejira”
STORM WINDOWS IN SOUTHWEST FLORIDA
In this small part of the planet
Nobody stores storm windows,
Though probably, storms away won’t
Muster much more blow
Than in this small part of the planet.
TWO ALARMS ( Impatient On All )
Is or isn’t it odd
that the gods have their own take
on what all gets the go ahead
and all just what must wait?
I was brought up to believe in
That All’s “seen through” for some reason./
All would happen ”as it should”/
But What when intuition warns it’s all gone wrong,
and it’s all gone wrong all day?
When two alarms should’ve gone off when rising?
When once again you wince & wait on your own way?
March 22, 2017
West, we rode & wrested away of, save the olde facades of Savannah.
When in Jesus-sodden Southern Georgia
Some sign solomn told me “try him”,
I ran & ran that mantra by
& waited ’till my lips straightened.
Here, I take my sweet (& dear, fleeting) time
Rake up raw data…
I’m readyish I guess for you to take my order
March 13, 2017
M U C H
often it’s uncertain to see,
to see the true things through,
but certainly sometime’s there’s time
when surely much of what’s new
when noticed might matter
to you or rather
D U E
I fear I forget that the frail,
nearly unable, but
when a whisper of Will…
when they muster an incalculable
measure of reach
to straighten, and lean up
for what’s due.
That’s alot to wait for
The Freshest thing in the clearing
by the pond’s sunk boat,
near a nest, There’s this ringing
drop, possibly just now dotting
one leaf, left just new
by all the dew
That’s what I wait for