SOME ABSORBING ERRAND

September 24, 2015

True happiness we are told, consists  getting out of oneself, but the point is not only to get out- you must stay out; and to stay out you must have some absorbing errand.”

-Henry James, from “Roderick Hudson”

.

Too wretched still/ 2 week without coastal sunsets

To wreath Night’s long door/  I long for

The right time alone  & wait &

As I wait/ I’ll eliminate/ obvious suspects

Crowding my space I’ve longed for/

To my credit the thing about editing out

All the non essential/ It’s Everywhere/

A lot easy to pivot w/pen  then slice there/

I can stick to plans/

Mic down the music some  & blinds slats/

I’ll recede that

Loveleaking hand off a needy cat and/

Speaking of love, lean forward & force

A poem to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SUNRISE SCENE FOR FAR ABOVE THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR
near the end
purple clouds stir & near
mis-en-scene set, I’ll be blocking the shot
readying my stand-ins
cueing my soundtrack
I’ll need special effects to capture the light
to be faithful to the script
years ride past alongside our precious bond/
then one moment  one light courses through  brighter than  other rays onto…
she had signed off  (often)   onto a missive
with
(I leaned forward & forced  this life
To really read)
.
“Love”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The woman I’m thinking of, she loved me all up
But I’m so down today
She’s so fine, she’s in my mind.
I hear her callin’.

See the lonely boy, out on the weekend
Trying to make it pay.
Can’t relate to joy, he tries to speak and
Can’t begin to say.”

— from Neil Young’s ‘Out On The Weekend’

Advertisements

presentation appreciation

August 21, 2014

Swallow

& Tho’ I’m so tightlipped sometime

I’ve often a soft spoken voice

I’ll go take this choice  this time

Pretend what’s set  went off

What followed

Got flat out

Presented

I could concur  then

Consent

My  “Amen”

Impalpable

August 11, 2014

Neruda’s ” impalpable ash”

Chants away/

In the fray of my own tiny ruins.

.

If I touch/ near the fire/

Impalpable ash..”

Chimes away/

And supports the clearing away  all

Insubstantial,

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

Out

Should I get older

I recognize me,  more blind,

Crinking my neck back, there, as

I look up at the cliff terrace

And A windowed hideaway behind,

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

On the backside of 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,

Here Hand in hand, and how then the heavens poured.

I’VE IVORY

July 18, 2014

 

  

 

Shiny gold pen when an old

Shade-off light bulb

(it can be a candle)

Best  Klieg-lights this  crèche ,

Best showcases this birthplace.

.

On my knees

To lure verities,  (surely,  scour our trees)

To cure maladies,

Wrest fallacies from unsound foundations,

Whisper one less lonely

Wise,  recognizable incantation.

Take this shiny gold pen…!

.

It’s nearby,  go forth,  go further.

I clear my path,

&  Go over…

&  I’ve  Ivory!

Simba’s  mammoth  cemetery!

(they must go deep)

Precious sunned bones poised on  as symbols

Archetexture   actually

I take a sacred see of symmetry

.

Even I’m

Silent Partner in this stronghold.

Before I go on,

I’ll go on & make sure

The blinds are drawn.

.

.

When I’m

Aware/Awake It’s gone cold,

For me to know it,

I’ll go on & need you some

I’ll go on & remind me some

I’ll go and turn my life down some

I’ll sit myself down until

I’ll see myself still enough

To behold

You, me, both,

Silent partners in this stronghold.

R E G O G N I Z E

March 10, 2014

tumblr_n1jaz4L7P61rrxr7to1_1280

Only fools wouldn’t, or would,  notice

This young god walking in stalks of sway grass,

Grass the color of irish sea spray.

Seems she recognized me too.

I bet it was this one side of her peculiar, porcelain face,

Silhouetting  a small half-smile

That would & could encourage me

To love her

Even more.

.

.

.

.

image via

http://iseultsdream.tumblr.com/post/77775468803/feb-21-2014-the-foggy-view-behind-the-dunes-on

MISS

February 8, 2014

When I don’t hear from her

When we don’t talk

Instead of what might

just happen in late night

screwball comedies,

A black & white

Cakewalk

Where he keeps

Just missing her,

& unknown to her, her one & only is so near,

& you watch & wait for them to wise up,

For when their timing improves.

When I don’t hear from her

When we don’t talk

Instead of just sitting tight,

& trusting the plot twists,

& trusting our protagonists,

& holding still for all that insignificant subterfuge

Until it all plays out that

They can finally take cuts in the

Everything’s-Fine waiting line/

Instead of that

He keeps just missing her.

.

.

.

.

Yesterday at the yoga class

I was asked to exhale out

All the inside I saw as unsettled.

And all this matter turned to air.

Then, to take in a new air. A More awake. A More aware

Just

Miss

  • .

.

i)

s t  I N K

.

of all the lies

in the air

that this liar

is truly unaware of

(is  ’truly’  the right word?)

of all the lies

casual and caressing there

the air currents  n

night-blooming jasmine

the golden ones have come from…

(I’ve told em. All alchemy.)

emboldened lies, all born, I imagine,

from an open pen draining onto pages,

.

from nothing.

ii).

.

.

I’VE   IVORY

.

Shiny gold pen when an old

Shade-off light bulb

(it can be a candle)

Best  Klieg-lights this  crèche ,

Best showcases this birthplace.

.

On my knees

To lure verities,  (surely,  scour our trees)

To cure maladies,

Wrest fallacies from unsound foundations,

Whisper one less lonely

Wise,  recognizable incantation.

Take this shiny gold pen…!

.

It’s nearby,  go forth,  go further.

I clear my path,

&  Go over…

&  I’ve  Ivory!

Simba’s  mammoth  cemetery!

(they must go deep)

Precious sunned bones poised on  as symbols

Archetexture   actually

I take a sacred see of symmetry

.

iii)

When poetry’s  god the old notions

When poetry goes poetry in motion

All of a sudden certain

Privileged glimpses are blurting out

.

All of a sudden

Uncertain unseen forces

Focus on instances, my wording output

(shushshush  on my sources)

It’s a code I can tap

Out

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

 

 

picasso  is said to have said

“Art  is the lie that tells the truth”.

seems  if he did, seems valid.

.

(Though  some tries  along these lines

can only shine  sly & slippery lies)

.

a verypretty good joke

& lucky for our sake

Actually  the accidental times

us  fog & smoke machines make

bonfire smoke signals  rhyme an

unreasonably  sound  Beauty.

we’re  without a net nor warm blanket.