An ordinary miracle

Might  make my day  good night.

An everyday freak  hailstorm

Should soften the  certain gravitas of  agony..

Would my monday to monday/ Gone on to a good gravy, when

My  dumptruck  of good luck   sails in?

All this will be laid to waste.

Then  strong  sprouts/ in not long/ will  no doubt

Green  the  place.

.

.

.

.

.

(5 yrs back)

 

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

 

“You know  it never has been easy

Whether you do or do not resign

Whether you travel the breadth of extremities

Or stick to some straight line…

In the church  they light the candles

And the wax rolls down like tears

There  is the hope and hopelessness

I’ve witnessed all these years.”

-Joni Mitchell, from “Hejira”

.

.

.

STORM  WINDOWS IN SOUTHWEST FLORIDA

.

In this small part of the planet

Nobody  stores  storm  windows,

Though probably,  storms  away  won’t

Muster  much  more  blow

Than in  this  small part of the planet.

.

.

TWO  ALARMS    ( Impatient On  All )

.

Is  or isn’t it odd

that the gods have their own take

on what all gets  the go ahead

and all  just what must wait?

I was brought up to believe in

That  All’s  “seen through”   for some reason./

All would happen  ”as it should”/

But What when intuition warns    it’s  all gone  wrong,

and it’s all  gone wrong all day?

When two alarms should’ve gone off when rising?

When once again you wince & wait on your own way?

 

 

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

.

 

N E W

March 13, 2017

i)

M  U  C  H

often it’s uncertain   to see,

to see the true things through,

but certainly sometime’s there’s time

when surely much of what’s new

when noticed might matter

to you or rather

to me

.

.                    ii)

.

D  U  E

I fear I forget that the frail,

nearly unable, but

when a whisper of   Will…

when they muster an incalculable

measure of  reach

to straighten, and lean up

for what’s due.

That’s alot to wait for

.

The Freshest thing in the clearing

by the pond’s sunk boat,

near a nest,  There’s this ringing

drop, possibly  just now dotting

one leaf,  left  just new

by all the dew

That’s what I wait for

 

STANDING BY CLOSE

March 8, 2017

young  acidTongued  Erato,

go forward  yr foul followThrough,

spitWhisper her cryptic  figures.

i’d  dampen  the  barb,

reshapened of fogWebs.

i’ll soften all  blows against the  liveWire

i’ll try to translate  all i need

from  freed  ashes

from the spillFree  gashes in the flare’s hottest fireGrate.

.

.

.

.

.

If I could face the palace/Going holed up in a hotel/Is not one way I’d go

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)

 

 

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

 

.

.

.

.

.

(3 yrs back)

LAPSELESS PACT

February 6, 2017

 

 

When we get a might old  & quite daft/

We better wear sweaters as we waffle whether there’s a cold air night draft/

When we don’t remember/ all the holidays in september/

When we won’t remember/ When the hearth needs more timber/

We’d do windows wide open mornings/ & doors too  snow storming/

Fruit  left last long past their sweet-point/

Just short of when  vermin/ just cavort into the joint/

We’ll start to tell our dreams, last night/

It’s a cinch/ we’ll end on that rain-drenched island, right?/

We’ll toss & turn on real green moss/

& you can barely feel  we’re wearing wet white/

On a hunch/ Our punchlines/ Without fail/ Will get filled in/

On a promise/ Our premises  will trail off  & off & off again/

.

We’ll lose the car keys of sensibility/

We’ll lose some  to the dark scenes of seniority

.

Together                                                   so

.

.

We  will  never  forget  to  never  let  go

CHOSEN PRE-DAWN ALCHEMY

February 1, 2017

 

 

There’s some/
Confusion/ some/ frustration
Smack immersed  in blue smoke,
Go check up the projection booth.
“I couldn’t  and  shouldn’t
Have ordered this show.
And that’s just  truth.”

Way  wrong epic screenplay
Is not long enough.
If there’s subtle subtext
It’s lost in the rough.
We know how helpful laughtracks go,
My own master is so diasterly low
It’s just too private a joke.

I’ve known
You’ve drawn yr own conclusions.
My own solutions are silly as  shepherds are  asea.

Desires and Go-forth fires   I’m put out.
Dire old deserts. It’s cold certainly.
I’ve a drought to drink about.
For me, chosen, pre-dawn alchemy,
Actually,
Chosen, is  a good chaser.