FROM MY OWN DOME LIGHT

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”

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“I’m in Heaven/I’m in Heaven/I’m in Heaven/ When you smile”

Van Morrison, from “Jackie Wilson Said”

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ON THE DAWN END OF OUR NEW RENDEZVOUS

When you took me back to the turnpike
    aparting   already   curving   away
I signalled to you  in your car
in my own dome light,
blew you a kiss, so steady,  away
intending  it  to sing
“I’m a little in love today”
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.                                        from 9/06

 

 

IT’S DELICATE BUSINESS

February 23, 2017

 

 

It’s a damned near full moon

It’s clear,  a bracing

evening.  I’ll exhale out

to trace the treeline  off

to a nothing northern florida town.

She sat at a flea market

where tons of townies in camouflage jackets

pressed past her at her table and chair.

Her pronounced pretty eyes

were the ideal quirk for gypsy fortune tell work.

Green, like beach glass.

How might they see me?

How can she be expected to espouse

All Ahead  for me   there?

At that table & chair there, exposed

to that flea market crowd?

Men, off to gun tables.

Women, drawn up the way

where puppies are given away

(hunting dogs no doubt)

How Soul-intimate can my gypsy and I get?

Can she pull out

All that’s in

In all of this dumbed down din?

It’s delicate business…

There’s this inarticulate air here

Against which…without a hitch..

.I want to wonder over every word..

I want to wonder for every prophetic word.

How can we do this with clothes on?  Absurd.

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I can see, by the chance

of this damned near full moon,

I’ll watch the line of my breath dance

just off the distant treeline,

Off to tomorrow’s full sun soon.

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(at least a half dozen years back)

B R E A K

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/

Then relief,

and they’re both free

She and the cat both refuse to

Cry more,

Like those that might see

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(from 2008ish)

 

 

 

 

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
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
my work.

II

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
my work.

 

 

still, tie me to the mast.

and

I must get the next good grasp
still, the next limb up
to see some.

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.

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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.

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“life is like a stage, I guess

love is stages of undress”

 

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.                                                                    (from 2009)

DOUBLE O

February 13, 2017

 

 

Here’s   far from hardly   a chink in his ardor

His duplicitness

Is  super  obvious

To himself  most of all

A double agent  deepbreathing quiet

So dominoes don’t fall.

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Here’s   far from hardly   a mark on his honor

His cowardice

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)

RIGHT OFF THE SHADOW

January 4, 2017

Unless  these  kisses

Fortuitous   but for the most part,

Stay imaginary, yet not useless,

Stay  &  not  start.

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I  will  wear  Hope’s

Clandestine  cloaks

& will not fear  openly  for the most part,

Right in defining light/ Right off the shadow

Where  cooly  I  coddle  our  heart.

 

TRIAL NEWS/ I’LL AMUSE

December 31, 2016

 

 

C H E E R S

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I own my own muse
uncannily, I can amuse me
it’s fairly common knowledge,I think, that some Irish may
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”.
Coupla nights back, I noticed there was just half a swallow in the bottle I might savor in the next morning after work, and get the empty bottle out to the recyclable bin before the early truck. Before I headed off to work
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

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.                     (Have a fortunate New year)

T R I B U T E

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

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.                                                                   (from 2010)

 

 

 

“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?”

“Exactly.”

-from “Kafka On The Shore”, Hanuki Murakami

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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

Fleetingly.   Completely.

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”

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