April 29, 2017
“She call me just to talk/She’s my lover she’s a friend of mine/..and I get trouble with my breathing/she says boys don’t know anything/but I know what I want/I want everything/And she was made in Heaven/Heaven’s in my world…”
Mark Knopfler,Dire Straits, from “Expresso Love”
“I’m in Heaven/I’m in Heaven/I’m in Heaven/ When you smile”
Van Morrison, from “Jackie Wilson Said”
ON THE DAWN END OF OUR NEW RENDEZVOUS
February 23, 2017
February 22, 2017
Stoicism is a prison/
Though I break out/
Though I break down/
Through the pull of a merciful act/
I can be old and too weak to hold back/
I can imagine a troubled
panicked angel tangled double;
One cat caught in a grate/
A girl unfair in a wheelchair/
Nears and dares her balance, her endurance, her tolerance/
She Strains all of her weight/
She shows the pain that she’s used to on her face/
and they’re both free
She and the cat both refuse to
Like those that might see
February 16, 2017
how Art thou? Do you drink from the deep sink of inspired creations at an art museum, gallery, or maybe a street art fair on a street near you?sometimes?
Do you have something on one of your walls that only you could only fall for?
And, can’t help but stare?
It’s an important thing,dontcha think?
It has been from an early age for me.
I’m told that soon after I found my father who had killed himself (the Hemingway), while all the distraught adults who knew and loved him were off balance with emotional and practical adjustments (like selling the house and moving on)
One forgotten first son had got into several paint cans and expressed quite a colorful statement on the backside of the new house for sale.
I was perched high for me
in a pinepitchtree
and waited out what I did
as I watched our house’s back side
where I painted from all the paint cans
stacked out back. Though very new plans
made us move away from that life.
Daddy had died and left that life.
Somebody and something could only cover
a french girl with hair from the girl in Breathless
was our art teacher that visited
Miss Blue’s 3rd grade class,
and liked my painting so much
she asked if she could take it
for a contest, or a book she was working on.
The blurry greens and blacks,
browns and blues, was a ship deep in a storm.
I never saw it again but
somebody and something could only recover
still, tie me to the mast.
I must get the next good grasp
still, the next limb up
to see some.
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.
Someone new/ anything new.
Venture steps forward
Away from the old?
Nature’s warmblooded creatures
Home in on settleings less cold.
love is stages of undress”
. (from 2009)
February 13, 2017
Here’s far from hardly a chink in his ardor
Is super obvious
To himself most of all
A double agent deepbreathing quiet
So dominoes don’t fall.
Here’s far from hardly a mark on his honor
He can cover less & less
From himself least of all
Bravery he saves to muster love enough
To face away nothing , to praise all..
(6 yrs back)
January 4, 2017
Unless these kisses
Fortuitous but for the most part,
Stay imaginary, yet not useless,
Stay & not start.
I will wear Hope’s
& will not fear openly for the most part,
Right in defining light/ Right off the shadow
Where cooly I coddle our heart.
December 31, 2016
C H E E R S
uncannily, I can amuse me
consider a spot of poteen and a pint at the end of a well-spent day…
God’s pay for a day’s good work. Earned.
when I get home from work, mornings, I spill a half swallow of irish whiskey in my glass, turn to look out the back window,raise my glass some, and To the sunrise’s orange and yellows, To the trees & water
I’ll whisper “yes, here’s to ya,then”.
the night before though, it was apparent that my sweet & neat mate, thinking logically that the bottle was another empty to go out, the night before, took it out.
the next morning, after getting out all the rest of the trash out to the front that needed to go,walking the 30 yards back up my broken driveway to the house, I stopped. I smiled, then started laughing as I walked back to the road, all the time thinking of the imaginary guy across the street (& what he’ll say to his wife), opening his blinds for the 6AM sunrise, slippers & robe, looking out and seeing the real life guy across the street walking out to the road, lifting the top up, and reaching deep down into the bin, pulling out a bottle, unscrewing the top and tipping it back for that last swallow.
A friend of a friend was a new nurse in a new high rise hospital where she mostly has clerical duties. One midday in the lunchroom, her break is broken when a man across the way from her starts making alarming choking sounds. A room full of nurses might humorously seem like an ideal location for choking, but our friend of a friend nurse has been away from hands-on medical aid for some time, she’s been busy on the computer w/the files for years, and could only notice that the other more proficient nurses seemed to be ignoring the situation. Confused and frustrated with their behavior she rushes over to the man (He’s a large man, not unlike myself, this big Irish head’s gotta ride on a big body. size isn’t everything)
She awkwardly positions herself behind him and begins to vigorously hug him,again and again from behind. It’s a bit difficult because of the man’s size, but she presses on. again and again. His choking breaks up some to a rasp and he mumbles that he’ll be all right.
After he shyly ambles off, our nurse turns to scowl & glare at her fellow professionals when one of them declares, “the police have been called, he’s done this before.”
I’m thinking that things aren’t always as they seem. Maybe this guy wasn’t a manipulative, sexual deviant. Maybe he was at the point where he Must have a hug. The things we do for love.
A guy I kinda know once talked about going to a professional massage therapist and decidedly took a Viagra beforehand. I’m thinking that things aren’t always as they seem. Maybe he so loved it when his lover laughed, it would be so precious when he told her. The things we do for love
. (Have a fortunate New year)
December 7, 2016
It’s likely/ It could be
That when Leonard Bernstein,
At his piano bench…
It was very late when he,
In a creative trance,
Had opened an envelope
From a Mr. Stephen Sondheim,
And started to work on
A musical phrasing for
“There’s a place for us”,
He eyedropped a gold teardrop
Into a test tube, & heaven reacted,
& now can make me ache
20,000 late nights after
. (from 2010)
November 11, 2016
“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who’s in love gets sad when they think of their lovers. It’s like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of. One you haven’t seen in a long time…”
“.. A fond, old, faraway room?”
-from “Kafka On The Shore”, Hanuki Murakami
We mind that there mustn’t be dust
On those closed blinds.
Behind those blinds,
We find us.
We find ourselves salving
Our sore selves,
Saving us so
And after each chapter,
Which did us delirious,
It can be meant as some payment,
It can serve to defray..
It can’t save us, when in a night and a day,
without fail, We derail.
“I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair”
Leonard Cohen,RIP, from “Tonight Will be Fine”