April 18, 2017
Walking, mostly neat in clockwork close meter,
Warmer ghosts from my former features;
All the roles, All the resume’,
Falling in line, Just the crew to rescue me.
Faded as sad old soldiers, parted.
(Vain fantasies say old glories stay guarded)
Again, always, They had heaved it all in a heavy chest.
Again, always, they had heaved in their chest
Taking it to heart & head.
I’ll call it for you my own VFW
hall. I have my own tall tales to tell,
We’ll share lies, & libations.
I’ll wear my mightier pen.
I’ll share sham wisdom wide open.
But first, false memories in verse.
& what’s worst, I’ll con, & confide open.
“I’m ready to go anywhere/ I’m ready for to fade/ Into my own parade”
—————-Dylan (the troubadour one), from “Mr. Tambourine Man”
“Every hero becomes a bore, at last.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
. (5 yrs back)
December 16, 2015
Maybe there’d be no way/ I could pay the cost/
Of her loss.
Far from that regular regret/
I’d be sure to be insular
Damned with that debt
Of her loss.
Waking away from that fast break, not
Scraping out that last brick (at last), not (at least)
Escaping, sky free, to flee East.
I bet I’d get her a pagoda.
(image: “Porcelain Pagoda”, Bertha Lum, 1936)
September 17, 2015
I guess I’ll go slow
To better spot
My placid place
Destiny’s tiny dot
Must not allow the powers that better be not
They’re sure to supersede
at Their break-neck speed
Some other man wants
I’ll take mine in
(in unmarked 10s & 20s)
December 19, 2014
September 2, 2013
Should I get older
I recognize me, more blind,
Crinking my neck back, there, as
I look up at the cliff terrace
And A windowed hideaway behind,
Not so unapproachably high,
Fixed over our Pacific, finally,
That we thought might couldn’t be.
Hard rain, hell, wept down a wet
that mixes well w/regret, on my shirt
One can look past all our four shoulders
From inside the glass wall
On to the backside of our Adirondacks
And maybe just make out
What we’re watching and talking about.
A man closely following his own footsteps
The long stretch of the shore,
But looked up at the both of us,
Hand in hand, and how then the heavens poured.