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 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.
May 29, 2016
Where is the wound that shines?
Over 50 years on,
Over this, his day, on?
My back way against all this memorial day here,
I’ll intentionally send me to a ill-shielded shy there,
Back at again to that day where
I’m Far too young to fathom,
Or even notice Yr. Crevasse,
Yr Grande Malaise,
Yr. countdown…Yr. Pass.
It makes me madly think now
It takes the saddest thing to tell now..
Stuck in a stack of old NewYorkers
There’s this old drawing
A mere boy drawn in black & white
Stands on a step of his own basement, stares,
He did look down on his own livid apocalypse,
His lips, and the caption say
Here is the wound that shines
Tonight, a glint off yr. cracked onyx ring.
I lift it in my open fist to my lips.
For always, again, rest in peace, daddy 3/21/1929-5/29/1959
March 20, 2016
“There comes a wave in the sea of men
when you can’t swim back again” __From “He The Richmond”, Jack Bruce
ONE TIRED SEA CHANTEY, SUNG LOW
As sure as our hull
Cuts ice ahead like diamonds,
Halcyon Days are just off,
Nigh, yet I tell in a calm now;
Back, my port’s special one
Burns no candle, windows dark.
Despite that raw night
(I fear more a year)
Came hard, and dispersed me onto gelid fates,
It stays back shore,
But burns deckside.
Force me to take times & places,
Passed, and otherwise, &
(What was a special one) On,
And declare the difficulty of it all.
(decades on. for sara)
February 21, 2016
Sure, I’m shopworn,
Tattered (as if it mattered)
I don’t decide if I’m just too tired or
I won’t give any/ to the torture
I won’t give up/
It’s nearly the nerve pills,
And endless,useless stolen coffee sleeplessnesses
Or I’ve faced my fill.
. (from 5 yrs back, & here after 3am)
December 14, 2015
Inexactly, a drinking priest,
You’d think he, at least & at last,
Classically, might be caught in
(Necessary) tight vises
Of a crisis of faith.
Vacuously, I’ll see it’s not
Knowing the knowing needs
the slowing some
the clogging some
of logic to help the heart sing through
(for Graham Greene & Tennessee Williams, & their wondrous torturous sermons)
(from years back)
November 16, 2015
Agonizingly, A friend, and wise king, He
Begged for his life.
I woke & witnessed his naked strife.
As softly he spoke out his pleas,
Softer, I called my “All Mercy”.
If only, as when our women grieve,
I should wear a veil, head bent.
I would shield my damning grief,
And all my disillusionments.
. (from at least 5 years back
October 5, 2015
These agonies, stowed loud to stoic quiet,
Annoy her, as if their noise could be heard,
Annoy her, every word,
Every imaginable syllable
And though a throw-away joke…
She’ll attest is a thrust attack,
Jeez these agonies
Have me taken aback
Have me taking pills & drink to swill ’em back.