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
Necessarily true.
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 & YEARS BACK)

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FIERCE PHALANXES

May 17, 2018

Her heartbreaking fuses

Popped one by one   useless

His hearing distant thunders

Scared him, scarred him

far ago

A  steady  rough  ruckus

The  steeds’  hooves  deep in dust

For  needs for tender mercies 

Form  now  in firm phalanxes

not far ago   at all

ADVENTUALLY

February 8, 2018

 

“..the inevitability of

heart death and heart soar and heart sick and heart ache..”     -EvelynAdams/

 

https://tenaciousiceberg.wordpress.com/2015/12/04/writers-wall-as-tall-as-the-sky/

.

.

.

It could be worst

When I would hear

It from good sources,

Maybe a back-alley liar.

His last words.

.

Not a sliver as clever as Wilde,

But ever so slightly, absolutely abstract & absurd

His last words

Might all have been,  “I’ve waited.  Awhile.

All night. Save dawn. I’ve waited.  Until

Watching was silly.

No cues came. No signs sang.

No news hit the front porch.

I waited & watched.

I still wait for bell rang.

I still hold a torch.”

B L U F F

December 15, 2017

 

 

 

My god my marygold

You’ve had such a holy hold

On this old drifting imagined world

You’ve banged open the till

Abundant with bundles  apparent now

Inside this  2-lane roadside  joint

Trucks rocketing by

You’ve had such a holy hold on my

sprouting spouting spurting words of my own godly modern love/

My own heart murmuring/ my idleWild  chit chat/

My own head concurring nodding plodding plotting

“Don’t take this cup from me”.

I can ante up.

What I can bring to the table.

What I can ad lib/ to fib  my own fable.

.

.

.

.                                                            (from 5 or 6 years back)

A BARGE

August 13, 2017

A barge I bet  can float through our wait

Hours upset, but in an instant I can’t hate

Hating hundreds of roads apart, while  hearts

Skinwalls near  forever here, & there with you  wait.

.

.

.          (unfinished)

OUR PAIRNESS

July 22, 2017

 

 

It wouldn’t, understandably,

Be unwise,

Though circumspect,

You look directly into the seeing eyes

Of an astute, & ably Miss

And ask  the tallest florist

“What’s the apt blossom symbolism

Best for telling  my steady;

‘You know already..

Our  Pairness   (no lie)

Best Real izes     Oh Relief

As we  just justify

Our  being'”

.

“Those, that nosegay  near the ceiling”

 

 

 

 

OK  I hate that “soulmate” is a fowl cultural cliche’

But it likely could be lifeblood, & have a saving Grace,

But  a  burndon

when things go wrong

And one  one can barely live with

A burndon  one can hardly lay with,

Stay with   when things go wrong

When a soulmate might come  to separate some

Then a burndon  might act up some

might oh might

Just combust some

 

 

 

 

Please presume It’s unsure for you as well

Assume  We’re leaning

Into Leaving

(an intangible caress)

I lean into

The careening custody  of my mess.

NEW HEART SETTLELINGS

February 14, 2017

 

 

Eyes out to recognize   passion:

It’s flatbacked against a dark wall

In the basement, burrowing deeper into sad shadow.

I’d bet it’s hiding some, a child’s cruel game.

When people see they’re empty

They write in to newspapers & ask real advice,

Exposing & espousing about

“Spicing up”  their  love lives.

Girls & boys buying new nightclothes,

Sex-scents, and other eaus,

Bought to butter up their battered beaus,

Enhancing  romance drugs

From teevee, junk mail,

And toys that are tools

For fixing whats failed.

.

There’s always 

something new,

Someone new/ anything new.

Venture steps forward

Away from the old?

Nature’s warmblooded creatures

Home in on  settleings  less cold.

.

.

.

“life is like a stage, I guess

love is stages of undress”

 

.

.

.

.

.                                                                    (from 2009)

LAPSELESS PACT

February 6, 2017

 

 

When we get a might old  & quite daft/

We better wear sweaters as we waffle whether there’s a cold air night draft/

When we don’t remember/ all the holidays in september/

When we won’t remember/ When the hearth needs more timber/

We’d do windows wide open mornings/ & doors too  snow storming/

Fruit  left last long past their sweet-point/

Just short of when  vermin/ just cavort into the joint/

We’ll start to tell our dreams, last night/

It’s a cinch/ we’ll end on that rain-drenched island, right?/

We’ll toss & turn on real green moss/

& you can barely feel  we’re wearing wet white/

On a hunch/ Our punchlines/ Without fail/ Will get filled in/

On a promise/ Our premises  will trail off  & off & off again/

.

We’ll lose the car keys of sensibility/

We’ll lose some  to the dark scenes of seniority

.

Together                                                   so

.

.

We  will  never  forget  to  never  let  go