AGAINST DARK

June 30, 2018

Perhaps it’s our cats
but I hear somebody sobbing
I swear
The sun hasn’t risen to rinse things
& I lock the door.
.
I’m steadily still intent on
Instilling something graceful
On all my faces
I’ll force & offer up
Some strong move
Something Nureyev

.

.

.

for Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber

Advertisements

SDARK BEAUTY

June 18, 2018

 

“We’ll know as children again all that we are destined to know, that the water is cold and deep, and the sun penetrates only so far.”
– Jim Harrison

.

SDARK   BEAUTY

If you’re tired to talk

If it’s too late for listening

My little time to tell you

But I think I just must tell you both

My dreams were dark   no  darker

Much darker than your bedroom

I’m afraid and I need to tell you

I want to tell you to hug me

And to let me under your blankets.

One morning I saw you and they were off

I stood  and  stared

You were the very best thing I ever saw

Both of you were so good  I cried.

I don’t want to wake you

Just my little time to tell you  both

My dreams were dark  no  darker.

 

 

for mom & daddy

http---americanart.si.edu-images-1979-1979.98.121_1a.jpg

( Rockwell Kent, “The Lovers” 1928 wood engraving on paper)
.
.
.
.
.
.

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

Splash something stronger at the base of my pint glass

It’s  more  fertile  earth

For to birth the guts & gas

One might need at night

To go on   & drive clear off

Dark  high-wire  highways

Onto red dirt, rolling on cooling red dirt, to dead ends

So bleak  a laugh comes out as a clearing cough

WORDMATHS

November 3, 2017

 

 

“as I sleep
fast deep green seas tore at some shore.”

.
In my defence
I’m sure it’s
that most wordsmiths
have worked the Earth;
its life..its weather, its flora,
in metaphors galore.
This sun, that moon arise. A Rose.
the cliff gales, what the dark knows,
poorly lit paths,
the sway of mayhem—
the sweet wordmaths
configuring out
Reflection

.

.

.                                                                   (from 2008)

 

from Dark

June 14, 2017

I’ll start.  It’s so dark you’ll know

Your thefts of thoughts

There  left to grow

Then grabbed!

Black  blossoms

Profuse

Still proceeding from its seeds  plus

Silence, from its silence.

.

.

Upon  a  pond

Where big calm mists meet surfaces

Water bug clouds  dance down aways

And I stand to see through tree trances

This moon is broken enough to lend to substance

For  near and far bearings,  distances,

And  at first. existences.

.

I swear here’s where the strings swell in

 

CRUMBLED SOME

October 19, 2016

 

It’s more than coincidence how

That “pillow”  rhymes/w  “shadow”.

If I had to,

& the sense  to know,

I’d set dark dreams aside.

If I lied some, & thought things

All tied up,

I’d fake it some, I’d hope

For a wide enough break,

& loose rope,

& in this broken cup

I hold my spirits up.

.

.

.Heraclitus: “ the essence of things has the habit to hide”

 

“Very little grows on jagged rock/Be grounded/Be crumbled/

So wildflowers will come up”          -Rumi

 

LOST WELL-WORN MARCHING SONG

September 28, 2016

Again  I  find  I’m

Lost on well-worn winding paths

& all the while

I  maintain  pathos,

&  I’ve  one  uncertain  smile,

Plus  tumultuous

Sturm  und  Drang,

Alongside a martyr’s song  he sang

Just under his last breath.

things people love

July 15, 2016

It’s pitchblack  and a pigeon

or  a  dove

Sits on this dashboard

in  this  car.

It looked enough like those stuffed

things  people  love.

I was thinking nothing of it

When it swelled full, far enough

For it to suggest to me,

Her filling full breast  told me this…

Her pulling my eyes to her,

Boldly, for both of us.

Oddly, the thing was fiery  in this dark.

Wings,  fiercely & stark.

They Open,  then  HeaveOut   one open hole.

Gone, she would leave one mark here

On this darkback soul

&  road.