You can’t write the clear biography
of the aches and pains inside your skull”

~ Harrison from Skull /  Songs of Unreason

.

.

.

Stoicism is a prison

Though I break out

Though I break down

Through the pull of a merciful act

Then I’m 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

Strains all of her weight

Shows the pain that she’s used to on her face

Then relief, and they’re both free

She and the cat both refuse to

Cry more,

Like those that might see

Advertisements

“Those bells’ve been ringing now for years, Someday I’ll give it all away,

That’s how you sing Amazing Grace”      -LOW, from “Amazing Grace”

.

.

As specified in final arrangements

The kids could only draw near enough

To temples,  & to what resembles temples,

To take big pictures, big sky country shots,

& pot shots,

For a faraway featuring of folly.

.

.

.

Go down always face  down the hall,

A dawn displays holy sun rays smoke

And on the just rightly out of tune upright bass

My at rest  in peace bare-chested Daddy

Just barely jazzin up most all  of a

New England Protestant hymnal

Ones his mother Grace

Sang through  softly  over & over

Busy with handiwork  as ever

.

.

.

.                                                          rest in peace bare-chested daddy

MAN, I MEANT

June 15, 2018

 

Man, I meant it to my mentor

I can change my ways

I can switch to watch myself more

I will strive to love myself a ways

.

I will abandon my old standards

I’d wait ’till noon ’till I would start

Hell, and it is just eleven thirty

We are (less stressededly) we are keeping the donkey before his cart.

.

.

.

peat wagon by don melvin.

 

“I took a nap and wept for no reason”
~ Jim Harrison  from Songs of Unreason 

 

Should I get older

I recognize me,  more blind,

Crinking my neck back, there, as

I look up at the cliff terrace

And at a windowed hideaway behind,

It’s not so unapproachably high,

Fixed over our Pacific, finally,

That we thought might couldn’t be.

Hard rain, hell, wept down  a wet

That mixes well w/regret, on my shirt

.

2

.

One can look past all our four shoulders

From inside the glass wall,

(We sat back in our Adirondacks)

And maybe just make out

What we’re watching and talking about.

A man closely following his own footsteps

The long stretch of the shore,

But looked up at the both of us,

Hand in hand, and how then the heavens poured.

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

dutifully  sometimes you should shrug

& do yr lines

dutifully  from the p.o.v. of the third guy 

in a lousy joke,

of the third guy,

on cue, in yr line

waiting there  at the gates of heaven,

the punch-drunk punchline chump.

in one ya heard at a barber shop or church,

though i frequent neither.

i heard they put out quite the ambiance there

with the reading materials, murals, & make-believe talk there

.

.

.“Nearly everything we are taught is false except how to read”
Jim Harrison

.

 

 

Day 11, 28 Days of Unreason

 

 

E D G E S

June 9, 2018

 

Realer!   I like light now

Up upon this  here theatre

Wake  upend  my mists

I dread this dreamy

Why can’t I come to?

.

Pink & peachish Cecily swirls

Boisterous moistness will flow

Within this frame, in this inside denied

I dread this dreamy

Why can’t I come too?

.

Paths for barefeet, in time, will lead some

Down to unknown & full blown Utopiatown

Fixed up & finished  for fun and contentment

Far back in bed from this dreamy

Why can’t I come too?

.

.

.

 

image: “Choreographed Flesh Breakdown”    Painter: Cecily Brown

“DETAINED”, CAUGHT

June 5, 2018

What were they thinking

I’m not to leave town

I’m a faceted test pattern  Blinking

Personas of interest  Renown

Only to the  powers that be

.

Ok  I get cagey  occasionally

Ok  yet I remain   With the reminder

Of stoic  stands  that been

Lost, inconsequential,

Cost  monumental  to just a man

seattle 2014 065

Photo: my  “Hell’s Ditch”

.

.

.

“It is the burden of life to be many ages

without seeing the end of time.”  Jim Harrison

NIGHT SWEATS

June 3, 2018

“I feel my failure intensely
as if it were a vital organ”
– Jim Harrison

.

.

 

It’s more than coincidence how

That “pillow” rhymes with  “shadow”.

If I had to,

& the sense  to know,

I’d set dark dreams aside.

If I lied some, & thought things

As tied up,

I’d fake it some, I’d hope

For another wide enough break,

& more loose rope,

& this broken cup

I hold my spirits up.

.

.

.

ANGUISH/ RENEWAL

June 1, 2018

It’s the quicksand edge of a rain squall

It’s a sick man on the ledge of it all

It’s the shore shifting in a violent fright

In a midnight storm

In a maybe might/

A long winter before the glint and glimmer

of words onto daybreak’s birdsong,

When enough renewal’s  been suffered to,

Enough burning and churning and yearning

has been laboured through

( from 12/06)

 

“Mental anguish always results from the avoidance of legitimate suffering.”
― Stefan Molyneux

 

 

 

 

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)