Still  and  night  wind/

And still standing in/ Deep in the shadow end/

Waiting in the wading pool To see my moon bounce to me some/

 

Wait!  At the airport bar the atmosphere swooned bountiful/

Maybe sating   metaphoring mating whoring fourth down plays/

Bountifully Enhanced  Last Chancing that face it,  basicly it’s too late not to dare/

Back here I’m not so rough, I swoon my own way, I tarry, and my moon’s enough

Jared French, Clinton, by PaJaMa

(photo credit/Jared French/ Clinton)

.

.mangata: reflection of the moon on the sea at night (Swedish)

 

 

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.

 

ONE WARNING

May 22, 2016

 

 

It’s not only at night

One ought to be quiet

So as not to .startle

A sleepwalking man

.

So  you stay still

Mostly  I still do

I wouldn’t awaken

A sleepwalking man

.

He’s steering past scenery

He’s deaf to the dreadful din

It’s as if imbedded in him

An old ghost holes up

And mostly he still goes

All lost.

He’s explosive

World wrecking

But mostly he’s expecting

All lost.

.

.

.

.                                           (from 2010)

 

 

 

“I don’t know what it is
But you got to do it
I don’t know where to go
But you got to be there
I don’t know where to fall
But I know that it’s comfortable where
I don’t know where it is

Putting all of my time
In learning to care
And a bucket of rhymes
I threw up somewhere
Want a locket of who
Made me lose my perfunctory view
Of all that is around
And of all that I do

So I knock on the door
Take a step that is new
Never been here before
Is there anyone else here too
In love with beauty
Playing all of the games
Who thinks three’s company,
Is there anyone else who wears slightly mysterious bruises…?”

-Rufus Wainwright, From “I Don’t Know What It Is”

.

.

.

There, All seems all quiet in her animal queendom.

Her solace has a high place

In one rare plan,  I confess.

In fact,  I’d really want her

To relax  the shields  she needs  to yield to.

I’d unclothe her armor

I’d enclose her ardor  inside

The insides

of my own too tender arms

 

.

.

(from 2010)

 

 

Trouser Cuffs, turquoise moor muddy.

Shuddering shadow. He is soon just

A moonlit man. Trapped door

Was his  “I’m not here” fuss.

Dry sob. & In a stall.

I marshal  his resources for

All  outdoors  All

.

.20160222_054515

.

 

MY MELANCHOLY VAMPIRE

January 31, 2016

IMG_4957

 

I could could guess  you’re just near the end.

Tho’, You’re  so  dour

You don’t even stir at yr own humour,

Or don’t/can’t you comprehend?

.

When you nightly set out

Under yr mighty moon

To brighten and heat

Yr best features,

Yr long face  goes  on & on,

Though the shadows are gone

And when you face yr  distant stare

It doesn’t stop

At dead stars

But goes to their backrow bleachers.

.

He’s aroused as the voices

In trees, on the breezes,

Distract him  post haste  w/ poetries,

They do extract his true face, those  ghosts in a wind.

Mostly,  They’ll  lift  him,

But their leverage runs thin.

.

.

.                          (2006)

.

CATCH AND NOTICE

December 28, 2015

IMG_4957

 

Nights  ago my big  ole  moon goes

right gauze-skirting inside a night cloud

Once I saw this,  honestly,

It’s a black & white flicker

It’s a late, late, late show. It’s “The Letter”,

“I walked With A Zombie”, “The Third Man”,

Something is going on

Like under a magicians handkerchief

Something is gonna happen

We go darker into shadow

&  It’s Eminent  &  Soon

If we should  just  catch & notice

god’s shiny icon in a gauze skirt

.

.

.                                         (FROM YEARS AGO) (image: g.r.melvin)

ADVENTUALLY

December 24, 2015

“the inevitability of
heart death and heart soar and heart sick and heart ache..”

-Evelyn Adams/

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.

MON CHEVRE COEUR

December 10, 2015

In my youth I’d dissuade

Caressing this heart.

It’d release  all too easily.

An old man dissuades

Caresses, as releases refuses all, easily.

I come apart/ I’m broken.

.

I have the gravity  of it all.

All the true  is all the falls.

It seems  some rivers and streams

Crawl & seep  to the deepest

Hearts of darknesses imbedded in bad dreams,

All soon might quench droughts

W/ moonlight   devout.

 

.Frantisek Kobliha Monthly Night

image:  František Kobliha “Monthly Night”

 

If my bloody feet

Work the way

Up my path as they

Might,  come day,

.

All these falls,  this stumbling,

All right before  my Moonlight,

Would be humbling

With goodly reason.