G L A R E

August 11, 2017

I’ve had a share of furtive glares & glimpses

Clandestine tiny glares & glances

I now redden to reminiscences

I’m now ready  to try new roads

Step surer into newer eventualities

Bet dearer  on far-fetched gains

I’m pretty sure to shift to uplifting new payloads

Pretty sure  no hurricanes

It could all work out,  take root,

It’d  adapt.

If I’d  freely feel  to enrapture your eye

& I  enchant  your  glare

I SEE MY PRE-DOOM ROOM

July 24, 2017

 

 

I sweat my bed.

I do all  but dread  there,

One hundred undraped  dreamscapes.

I’d replay and replay

Heaven’s elevator tunes on tape.

Is it true  I did

Fluid-loss & exhaustion,

All that turning and tossing?

I sweat my bed.

First thing is shower head to head,

It takes cold water to weigh

This old man awake to stay down,

Away from high ground.

.

I’d  walked  hard

To find my feet,

To find a way unled

In this far town.

Winds of that farthest town

Of hers are zephyrean dread.

 

 

 

.                   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)

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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

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(from 9 years back)

from Dark

June 14, 2017

I’ll start.  It’s so dark you’ll know

Your thefts of thoughts

There  left to grow

Then grabbed!

Black  blossoms

Profuse

Still proceeding from its seeds  plus

Silence, from its silence.

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Upon  a  pond

Where big calm mists meet surfaces

Water bug clouds  dance down aways

And I stand to see through tree trances

This moon is broken enough to lend to substance

For  near and far bearings,  distances,

And  at first. existences.

.

I swear here’s where the strings swell in

 

PRE-POETRY

May 31, 2017

Foraging is one way we fauna

Have found purpose in all this breathing

We’ll search, and trust that sustenance

Will surface to topsoil in time for reverence

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(unfinished)

A W A Y

May 16, 2017

Sudek

photo credit: Josef Sudek (“the poet of Prague”)

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They some time may say/ Time  dwindles  away/

I  say   swindles.

 

-gray r. melvin (“the poet of vague”)

L I M E

May 8, 2017

I’m  ripe  with  dereliction

My repast  still  strewn out before me

I’ll lap seeds from fruit eden fronts me

Though I’ll stick slow to my sloth….

To my depiction

 

 

 

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.

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(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”

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STORM  WINDOWS IN SOUTHWEST FLORIDA

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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.

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TWO  ALARMS    ( Impatient On  All )

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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?