F O R G E S

May 1, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

There ought better be a beacon
on a pacific coast cliff could be
where hope’s light works with sea horn
where a night light works without warning
It forces & forges  the blackest  fog & forests
There can be a candle
in a window with enough heat
to fire the hearth
to light one lone solitary stone room
.
(from 2010)
.
.
.
.
.
.”Writing is nothing more than a guided dream” -Jorge Luis Borges

 

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

,

.

.

.

.

.

(from 2008ish)

UNBURDENED (Unfinished)

June 23, 2016

One  way  to  be  unburdened

Might be   small talk, not hearsay,

A  Big-hearted  acumen,

Bare  arms,  &  mercy

 

I and It may not be monstertruck obvious

But like a catspurr  can spur you through a thunderstorm

Or a night, Or origami maybe might

Amaze you in new ways for focus, and sight–

.

A single signalling;

A child of eleven

On a church swing

Offers  “You’re funny”,

I’ll take it  as honey

On manna from heaven.

.

The world’s love’s not worth leaving, all in all.

Mine’s a frontline free for all an’

It’s  Mercy  itself  inside all this breathing.

An air strike has been called in

And tear gas’  got me weeping.

.

Same as some  Mammoth,

Dropping to its knees.

(I’ve seen it from my cave)

Or,  a sweet Whale sweating and letting go

Off the side of his seas,

Too far off from saving wave,

Or, one wheelchair child really feeling

Enough in her, not her flesh,

To reach  especially  hard

Up To  a  high  gardenia.

 

SILENT FOR INNOCENT

November 16, 2015

Agonizingly,  A  friend, and wise king,  He

Begged  for  his  life.

I woke  &  witnessed his naked strife.

As softly he spoke out his pleas,

Softer, I called my  “All Mercy”.

.

.

If only,  as when our women grieve,

I should wear a veil, head bent.

I would shield  my  damning  grief,

And all my disillusionments.

.

.

.

.

.                                                      (from at least 5 years back

PRAYER PAIR

October 22, 2015

EMMIE

.

not way outside the trailer porch screen/

stood in a stance/ an emotionally unbalanced/

unforseen chic/ attention-seeking/

14 yr old girl smoking/

she went and vents some again/

about her derelict parents/

and that she hid in bushes/

rather than come home when called from a running car/

she was sassy but the sec she flicked/

her butt out on the sunny yard/

& was told “Pick that up”/

she put it in a puddle/

(she was in more than a muddle)/

she was a spoon in spitting hot gumbo stew/

more than home  was chaos  in her classroom/

nightly she would walk/

right up & down that trailer park street talking/

no  yelling  to  herself/

someone old at a kitchen curtain/

called the cops & they came &/

appallingly cuffed her and offered/

a ride to a cell she had to hammer/

a call to guardians/ and if/

god doesn’t stammer/

they’d call some help/

.

.

.CELESTE

.

That crap in yr creamy breasts  threaten us.

.

I pray for the day

We lay our selves back

No time on our back

I sing only songs that ring only true

Right to  only to you

In bed we’ll watch “Red Shoes”

We’ll leave off counting re-watching “Brief Encounter”

We’ll listen read & listen to Burton’s reading of “Under Milk Wood”

At least we’ll feast on a breading and cheese plate

We’ll  settle  in  safe

From cancer   and

From  wait.

.

.

.

.A rarity; one night very recently, I felt it necessary to pray. It was on the behalf of (me &) two very different souls; One a stranger, one a love.  –G.R.

B R E A K

May 20, 2014

 

 

 

 

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

,

,

,

,

                                                        (from 2008ish)

 

 

 

SUSPECT MAN

May 20, 2014

   

      

   

On to one I try to love, & back;

One ought to honor one of us.

 

I will brave..then save  embraces

before I leave, For I believe

that storing away more rare mercy,

like staples stock a pantry,

sustains this suspect man, surely.

Make that..his take on  “surely”

,

,

,

,

,                                                         (from 5 years ago, & still)

A SINGLE SIGNALLING

May 19, 2014

 

 

 

I and It may not be monstertruck obvious

But like a catspurr can spur you through a thunderstorm

Or a night, Or origami maybe might

Amaze you in new ways for focus, and sight–

                                       .

A single signalling;

A child of eleven

On a church swing

Offers  “You’re funny”,

I’ll take it  as honey

On manna from heaven.

                                       .

The world’s love’s not worth leaving, all in all.

Mine’s a frontline free for all an’

It’s  Mercy  itself  inside all this breathing.

An air strike has been called in

And tear gas’  got me weeping.

                                      .

Same as a mammoth

Dropping to his knees

(I’ve seen it from my cave),

Or,  a sweet whale sweating and letting go

Off the side of his seas,

Too far off from saving wave,

Or, one wheelchair child really feeling

Enough in him, not his flesh,

To reach  especially  hard

To a high gardenia.

 

 

P I T C H E S

October 19, 2013

“There’s  no  art  to  begging”

He said, just ahead, near the liquor store door.

As an aesthete  I agreed.

It would always be awkward.

.

Every Very late, last-ditch efforts,

Pitches inside Big screen night light

Onto a bed in the dead of night.

.

There’s preaching entrepreneurs, every week newer

With us,  all weak.

.

There’s one non-working guy in the driveway

Who sprung for a buzz saw,

A guy in the driveway, off to the yard, man

His head down,

He Knocked, confidently enough,

(To wake me) 

Daringly down on my massive door.

.

My shitty shields go up for beggars,

I barely heard the guy out front of that store

(Too young, I used to beg strangers to buy beer there)

The liquor store philosopher

Said something like

He said, “Yep, I know the last episode.. I had

Really, really needed..to kneel down on these bad knees.

I asked  my something

I needed.

I waited  on   something.

I heard it.

Here, Can you hear the ocean?”