February 24, 2017
Neruda’s “impalpable ash”
In the fray of my own tiny ruins.
“If I touch/ near the fire/
And supports the clearing away all
Makes way to take less blinding steps away
From cave to climax
I’ve come to have left out
Crucial rescue tools
From my matutinal
Lost-combination locked bag of tricks.
In touch information.
(3 yrs back)
February 23, 2017
February 22, 2017
Stoicism is a prison/
Though I break out/
Though I break down/
Through the pull of a merciful act/
I can be old and too weak to hold back/
I can imagine a troubled
panicked angel tangled double;
One cat caught in a grate/
A girl unfair in a wheelchair/
Nears and dares her balance, her endurance, her tolerance/
She Strains all of her weight/
She shows the pain that she’s used to on her face/
and they’re both free
She and the cat both refuse to
Like those that might see
February 16, 2017
how Art thou? Do you drink from the deep sink of inspired creations at an art museum, gallery, or maybe a street art fair on a street near you?sometimes?
Do you have something on one of your walls that only you could only fall for?
And, can’t help but stare?
It’s an important thing,dontcha think?
It has been from an early age for me.
I’m told that soon after I found my father who had killed himself (the Hemingway), while all the distraught adults who knew and loved him were off balance with emotional and practical adjustments (like selling the house and moving on)
One forgotten first son had got into several paint cans and expressed quite a colorful statement on the backside of the new house for sale.
I was perched high for me
in a pinepitchtree
and waited out what I did
as I watched our house’s back side
where I painted from all the paint cans
stacked out back. Though very new plans
made us move away from that life.
Daddy had died and left that life.
Somebody and something could only cover
a french girl with hair from the girl in Breathless
was our art teacher that visited
Miss Blue’s 3rd grade class,
and liked my painting so much
she asked if she could take it
for a contest, or a book she was working on.
The blurry greens and blacks,
browns and blues, was a ship deep in a storm.
I never saw it again but
somebody and something could only recover
still, tie me to the mast.
I must get the next good grasp
still, the next limb up
to see some.
February 14, 2017
Eyes out to recognize passion:
It’s flatbacked against a dark wall
In the basement, burrowing deeper into sad shadow.
I’d bet it’s hiding some, a child’s cruel game.
When people see they’re empty
They write in to newspapers & ask real advice,
Exposing & espousing about
“Spicing up” their love lives.
Girls & boys buying new nightclothes,
Sex-scents, and other eaus,
Bought to butter up their battered beaus,
Enhancing romance drugs
From teevee, junk mail,
And toys that are tools
For fixing whats failed.
Someone new/ anything new.
Venture steps forward
Away from the old?
Nature’s warmblooded creatures
Home in on settleings less cold.
love is stages of undress”
. (from 2009)
February 13, 2017
Here’s far from hardly a chink in his ardor
Is super obvious
To himself most of all
A double agent deepbreathing quiet
So dominoes don’t fall.
Here’s far from hardly a mark on his honor
He can cover less & less
From himself least of all
Bravery he saves to muster love enough
To face away nothing , to praise all..
(6 yrs back)
February 10, 2017
If I lost strict control some
I could prick all billion bubbles
If I left my lost some
I could remangle my mumbles
‘Till concision at any cost cums
I’d come to untangle dareknots
‘Till a guilt spilt relief
Stains the air & remains there