Muscles Quip

June 26, 2017

I confess

My prowess is

To wait & to watch &

To wit  if fate slips me a quip

Take a sip & reassess then readdress

The matter  no later than  now

 

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)

 

Evidently a Lie / Obviously obtusely Truth;

It’s meant to be  a pair of documents,

Y’see, But I signed both.

.

Caught, I could  share   the clench

He put on that  pair of documents.

.

Bright lights washed this whiteish room.

The solemness thing   a candle brings,

Though I searched,  all the shadows had no shade in this room.

.

We digressed some away from

the heart of the matter

When he stressed  my stories were

fog & mirror

.

I’m sure I concurred  that if

Scenes and factors shift

From tellings to retellings,

It seems the fact is   seeming  shifty.

.

My “But plainly, a  planned  lie,

A tall Alibi, that had ironclad  unchanging,

‘Mimicry!’  is one word-for-word bed story,

Read to children.

.

Isn’t that  one good bet

That wins & sets the liar free?”

.

I think he let it sink in, and then set.

.

“And you expect me to reject

Classic casebook investigation technique

& instead of  doubting inconsistency,

Instead ..One consistent story

Is a tell tale “good bet”

for Guilty?  And yet,

changing ones tune again & again  is uniquely

Honest?   it’s best to revise to clarify..

As one more clearly

recalls  new  old  details?

Just as pieces of night dreams

Resurface  into..Really??!”

“Really??!!!”

.

“Um, yes.”

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.                                       (from long ago, or maybe not)

A P OT H E C A R Y

February 18, 2017

 

 

Eli’s call came early

Cold & way too early for a new day

I was awake   unstill I dreamed

His call was a cry

As if it was for him

Insteada the other way

It was up to him

To set that we’d meet at the dimmest

Darkest strobing streetlight

Down under, next to the trestle

When I got there, so was a girl named Angel

She held on to Eli, but could hardly protect him

We all talked abit about how doctors acted, they watched lately

Fact is they were shy to grant old faithful effective cures

But daily, took chances guessing & giving crap

What well-dressed pharmaceutical promotion reps

Offered up in the morning hours

.

“You were once prescribed ho hum valientum”,

Eli teased, “And now Say Please

& I’ll fill your order ’till soon you’ll kill your ill-at-ease”

Angel smiled free of charge, her kind habit,

& I paid all the rest

And ran off like a rabbit.

 

 

WINTER AWARENESS SEMINAR

January 13, 2017

1       ONE WINTER ADDITION

teachers to small children

the world over

pastors to parish

they all will tell the pretty truth

(aside the pretty lies, “pretty lies”)

that crystalline snowflakes

are unique. unique.

and maybe later in both

secular schoolrooms

and sunday school classes

(and in all their varieties the world over)

small children might make snowflakes for themselves

they’ll fold lacy paper exactly in half

with a good crease

and taking their round-ended scissors

they’ll cut their very own unique cuts

so that when everyone unfolds their lacy paper

and lifts it above their heads

everyone can laugh at their uniquenesses

.

but one thing that ministers & mentors

rabbis & nuns will fail to add

is that those one-of-a-kind snowflakes

are all

alone

in their descent

on icy black currents

all their night fall

.

2        STILL, NOT STILL

It’s the coldest morning this year

And the Farmer’s Almanac says this year

There’s gonna be a winter of ’em

Me, I won’t mind

I like how loud the still is

.

forty years ago a brother from Chicago

called the cold wind

“the hawk”

I wonder if it’s still true

I wonder if “that muthafuckin Hawk”

is still cursed & bundled against

in the only city cited for its big blow.

.

3

When island settings lose their place

in imaginings,

When our mornings sun  there

warms our skin, bare,

There’s these shade floral sanctuaries,

And, I’m betting,  perfect for setting your eyes on…

God’s perfect line,  one horizon.

When all  won’t free you,

Won’t call you from all this freezing

Point of view,

This illusionary season,

What ttthen?

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(from a decade ago)

TRIAL NEWS/ I’LL AMUSE

December 31, 2016

 

 

C H E E R S

.

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)

E N T R A P T (A Fragment)

October 30, 2016

Burning a blacker ceiling hole

Drilling a dark room through to blending smears on a pallet

Still making do on my back aching soul

Yearning readily to strain to make go

Dreams from  raindio.

Sirens sing on waves  & also

They’re  Racing through avenues.

As they’re both keen on captives

1 PART ALONE

October 27, 2016

 

 

 

“Where will I be  When I go back home?

Who will I see  When I’m all alone?

And What’ll I do?”

–David Crosby, from “Where Will I be?”

.

.

The main I’ve heard

Is that people want a partner

“So I don’t die alone”

,

umm, I Embrace,  Tho’ waste,  my own time.

.

At the end of all my nights

I might had been clean & clever enough

For her to had laughed, and had left

Her hand on my thigh

As I wait down the night sky

Toughening up for day.

R E D H O U S E

October 11, 2016

I  can  do  candor

My favorite secret

Reads & takes stock

On a Miami-lime rocker

Far, on a Vermont autumnal

Calendar’s glossy next month’s

Promissy  call.

 

1010161718

 

 

 

 

“There’s a red house over yonder/ That’s where my baby stays..” -Jimi Hendrix

M I S C A S T

October 1, 2016

 

 

If I’d insist on playing the pacifist

(I’m maybe miscast)

I’d resist being all-too-willing

to killing time.

 

If I would want to resist the persistent praying

For my mercy, for all our mercy,

Inarticulate verses of mercy,

Maybe I’d want to take steps,

I’d want to take things into my own hands,

Maybe I’d want to take on the task

Of yanking my mask off,

Of thinking of thanking

myself more.

Tho’  I’d  heed  less

Jesus

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(from 2009)