RICHARDSON

April 27, 2017

 

” Had Richardson sat in the piercing shade…”

You’ll say,  “In lieu of  with us   in the

Cruel, as a rule, sun on us.

He’d, it’d suffice to say,  suffer less,   unless

It’d be meaningful to a man like him to  show.”

I’ll  go,  “Sure enough, he’ll tough it home to suffer,  tho’

I think that ,yes, later at  blackest ink late,

He’ll love chopping onions, through all of their skins,

To sweeten his red sauce.  String section perfecting chaos as its tuning just begins.

One escape, esconsed in wet white cotton drapings,

Kind  chimey  showers

Keep rhythms  in Richardson’s shapings.

They  can   steepen,   that man’s dreams’  healing powers.”

 

 

 

Please presume It’s unsure for you as well

Assume  We’re leaning

Into Leaving

(an intangible caress)

I lean into

The careening custody  of my mess.

CRECHE SHEPHERDS

April 8, 2017

An imaginary friend, a French kid, he calls

(They  call  the  wind  mistral)

All the Northern winter wind..mistral.

En Francais, one says, Eventhough  baby  jesus…

Creche shepherds are threatened by mistral.

They hold on to their hats, insteada solomnly go

Doffing their fuckin desert chapeaux.

 

mistral

 

 

OLDE FACADES

March 22, 2017

West, we rode & wrested away of, save the olde facades of   Savannah.

When in Jesus-sodden Southern Georgia

Some sign solomn told me  “try him”,

I ran & ran that mantra by

& waited ’till my lips straightened.

.

Here,  I take my sweet (& dear, fleeting) time

Rake  up  raw  data…

 

.

I’m readyish I guess for you to take my order

.

 

IMPALPABLE

February 24, 2017

 

Neruda’s  impalpable ash”

Chants away/

In the fray of my own tiny ruins.

.

If I touch/ near the fire/

Impalpable ash..”

Chimes away/

And supports the clearing away  all

Insubstantial,

Makes way to take less blinding steps away

From  cave  to  climax

.

I’ve come to have left out

Crucial  rescue  tools

From my matutinal

Lost-combination  locked bag of tricks.

In touch  information.

Out

 

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(3 yrs back)

NEW HEART SETTLELINGS

February 14, 2017

 

 

Eyes out to recognize   passion:

It’s flatbacked against a dark wall

In the basement, burrowing deeper into sad shadow.

I’d bet it’s hiding some, a child’s cruel game.

When people see they’re empty

They write in to newspapers & ask real advice,

Exposing & espousing about

“Spicing up”  their  love lives.

Girls & boys buying new nightclothes,

Sex-scents, and other eaus,

Bought to butter up their battered beaus,

Enhancing  romance drugs

From teevee, junk mail,

And toys that are tools

For fixing whats failed.

.

There’s always 

something new,

Someone new/ anything new.

Venture steps forward

Away from the old?

Nature’s warmblooded creatures

Home in on  settleings  less cold.

.

.

.

“life is like a stage, I guess

love is stages of undress”

 

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.                                                                    (from 2009)

DARKEST POND

February 8, 2017

 

A late,  the too latest,  drive

Car thick  with ambient music

On  back  home

On back roads   I can come upon,

In deep,  way back,

The darkest pond,  I can  plumb

The darkest pond

I can Cool off

I can char

Edgy angular contours

In deep

 

N O I S E

February 4, 2017

 

 

 

“May  our  miracles

…Not  be  cruel.”

I tipped my head up,

Away from my novel.

So uncharacteristic

From some televangelistic

Noise at the end of Pop’s assisted-living room.

The old & Southern bible guy

Was odd  about numbers, too.

Not magic mathematics about chapters & verse,

But worse,  what words add up to,

& seven is this

& five is that.

His numbers were different from mine.

Maybe,  I was getting it wrong.

The old & Southern crowd was all nodding.

It takes a stadium.

Maybe  I’m

Imaginin’,

Tho’ mostly sure   that’s it.

 

 

 

 

(7 yrs back)

If I should shift off my myth-making,  not forsaking my pathos,

I could concede defeat on  conceits  I’ve concealed,

 

Turn tail on my inner errant paths,

&  Find my feet,   for far, afield.

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)