Fragments On Lofty

June 23, 2017

 

 

It’s not been my story  to take inventory/

It’s  I can’t even   scare up  scant worry

About what I have, About what I would want/

I suppose  I could pose  but I can’t/

It’s  said/

“An  unexamined  life

Is  good  as  dead.”/

I said/

I’m a body afloat, solid thoughts go float too, y’know/

Lofty thoughts  not  caught  can ride

On both tides  High and low/

I’d deny having lied, but replied.

.

.

.

.

.

.                                                                                                           (years & years back)

Advertisements

IF I MINDED

June 7, 2017

I’ve been biding my live time

My trivial “real”-life trials

All the challanges this chuff can ignore

All the more he might’ve  imagined

If i minded any more

For somehow here  and not

For somewhere not

SUM RHYME

December 5, 2016

 

 

 

Summing up some/things you can’t count on

Is  dumb.

When the wind whisks debris

Away. To kingdom come

And comes back   to tease.

Where my moon rebuffs  enough

Sunlight  to shake me awake

Until daylight   spoils the spell.

When passion is a ebbed sea,

Then ennui may dwell,

Grave missteps must only step up &

Soon it’s counted. Moonlit debris.

 

S T A L L

November 8, 2016

 

 

encased  in  impasse

I couldn’t even eye the passengers

just past my papers.

I wouldn’t watch what

my window offered:

small towns, and their lights,

or when slow-mo reflections night riders

riding inside  also swept by.

continual inspections of my work,

a spread display on a tray freed before me,

confirmed    my stall  is a lock still.

Y’see, yesterday’s night

I ran nine yellow lights,

& when my dreams weren’t just right…

I must decide to just ride.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(from 5 or 6 yrs back)

OFF/ON

April 27, 2016

 

 I have staved off   lost passions

 I’ve held on cold cliff holds

I stayed and endured elements,

Harsh and all part of a hard whole

Where   lost passions

Sounding far, in the fog,

Meaning more  in a quiet man

Than a kind word,

Can  work

To urge  his stoic stand

On

.

.

.

.
                                                                         (from 2009)

 

HEY, ONE FACT/ CRAYON BOX

January 27, 2016

On a rough rainy predawn day

Back too tough on me maybe

Allowed  out back  fuh full moon

Is enshrouded.  dire.

Tho’ I’m too low on melatonin

Dawn, I’ll get  my crayon box

Out  &  rub out

A prairie fire

 

ENNUI DANCE

October 24, 2015

“..Just a beer light to guide us..”   – David Bowie

“And this is the simple truth–that to live is to feel oneself lost”  – Soren Kierkegaard

G L I M P S E

A trance makes its appearance as

placid lakes  pull fog tight,

elsewhere perfect light there  performs subtle sonatas

for dance,

for ponderance  if

tucked not too loud in a cloud.  tonight

if  OK I guess I may  get my own drift.

.

.

.

.

.

.          (old rhyme in a box,2008)

.

CommOnnuique’

October 4, 2015

While you come out and say

You might await some communique’

I might just wait some

To formulate  some take on

Raw data  streaming onto the tarmac

(Surreally As filmstrip spills off a reel)

This all filling files somewhere

There must be plenty

Taking place.

.

Night, when there might have been plenty

Taking place

I escaped unscathed, tho’ scattered

It remains to be seen & heard

If I would make  it matter

It can be  there may be  plenty

Taking place.

.

.

.

(from 2012)

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’

“IS THIS IT”

August 8, 2015

“Is this It?”
I’ve always kept this  away
I’ve sleep    before this one feeling
Can fuck w/me alone  (my eyes on the ceiling)
I’ve  kept  it  at  bay
With whiskey, & the fantasy of Art
I’ve consistently  insisted on
Not being too damn smart
Illusion and delusion and confusion
For a start
It’s not all how you look at it
it’s how  you don’t,
Don’t ask

.
“Is this It?”