A Fond, Old Faraway Room

October 7, 2018

“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. So Pretend-Completely.
And after each chapter,
Which does us delirious,
It can be meant as some payment,
It can serve to defray cost
It can’t save us, when in a night and a day,
without fail, We will derail.
Alone, All memories lost

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“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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(from a hundred years back)

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My uneasy manner may wear
Against a midnight and on
Persistent are
Green bottle shards

again & again
Against a reef

a Lighthouse
over sees

yet overlooks

faithful

September 28, 2018

Mostly most of my lovers I’ve let go  & still know

I’m  faithful.

Y’know, belittling me..(so I’m blanketing you with talk?)

Go shut down your psychic powers

I’ve just put in twelve hours

At the hospital reteaching my much better half how to walk.

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She fell off her horse in a storm.

Lightening spooked both of them  the same time.

The dumb animal stood by her/  in all the wet.

It might have bolted/  the thunder said “Go!”

The Wild  and men are meant to just go.

I’ve pity, not hatred

Alive but domesticated, caught in its net

 

 

A C R O B A T S

September 13, 2018

A bet about how acrobats practice

With out the bright side of a doubt

Would bring winnings, not giving a thought

To those monkeys unable to practice

Symmetry, nor knowing  sincerely knowing

How’s the flow going

Then there’s daring  dark  chance

Annexing the knack for balance.

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“What kinda trapeze thing is going on back there?”

G A U G E S

September 11, 2018

 

 

“Life is short, and Art long; the crisis fleeting; experience perilous, and decision difficult.” -Hippocrates

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.“In the fog you are sheltered against the outside world, face to face with your inner self. Nebulat ergo cogito.” (fog therefore I think) -Umberto Eco
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There’s fog.
Then, there’s people landing planes at all hours.
There’s dogs chasing birds
on runways. And one way those people in those towers
can plan to, and see to, land planes is
the guts to go with the gauges.
They heartfelt  dealt with data,
Trusted all they’d seen
on their farforeign &; onlyman-made monitor screen.
As dogs flushed their fog,
hands hover over lights
and cover their old bets,
their usual action.
,
, from 2009

NEW DEAL

September 2, 2018

If our fog lifts

Like tired old myths

The ones “old salts”

Sing about at seaside public vaults

Never locked  They’re never locked

It’s best. I better work this new deal

The wording has wounds, needs doctoring

How long will you allow me here?

If our fog lifts

My table and window will clear.

 

F L I N T

August 30, 2018

In the “quiet time” the hospital designates

When visitors gotta go

Ok so I opened a Modelo

& vacuumed the space between the davenport

& the coffee table where you like us to eat

& dared some dreams of arson

Oh I sat easy enough at one half of a love seat

I wouldn’t want  to reread Kant

On  Duty  and  Obligation

I’d doubt he’d sway me

His hard ass way

The escape  dreams prefer are fire escapes

 

Go get only things you can carry

Stand up straight  Cast straight shadows

One effin  flick of flint

Can  brighten  bad  roads

 

 

a bad fall at the stables

August 28, 2018

this disastrous matter is
unexpected of course
a bad fall at the stables
the first thing you whispered to my ear on your chest
once the breathing apparatuses were out
was that  it wasn’t LB’s fault

I’ll have you home alone for some time.
for now I’ll go home alone
Another old thing
I might say  I might tope me some

it might this night help me cope some
another old thing
I’ll bust out hope  just a modicum

BREATHING EXERCISES

August 11, 2018

She won’t roll away & not watch me.

Y’see, I won’t seem to take…

When I dream (or wake),

To take another breath before

The scene fades, before

Lights go up,

Then down to more of a zoom.

She waits in our bedroom for me to resume.

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II.

We went to go to a yoga class.

Where a barefooted, hair-pleated group leader;

Beautiful, and calmer than a

Merciful last coma,

She insisted that our deep breath is

The gist of all of it (within, & out).

We rearrange the short & tall of it.

The Gist to change the depth, see,

Of our sea of possibility.

When we inhale

We re-memorize our own gods.

We exhale our hell. barefoot. on a mat.

Whew. To that.

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III.

When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico

I’ll try out the drink, 1st thing.

I’ll try not to think when I try to let go

& sink when I deadman’s float all day,

Into what I think of as a spiritual drift, in a way.

I’ll hold onto my own breath,

Face down,

Head down.

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BESIDE A LIGHTHOUSE

August 7, 2018

All my daddies looked down to me
One daddy is asea
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First fogs sound off as if
Birdsong was it’s voice
I meant like all lighthouses yearn
Intent on seeing inside the fog
For anything but distraction
I’m no lack for that at home
I’m straining out my eyes, & hand too
For something right to fill in
Something tonight to fill in