Posts for 2020 (page 28)

Category
Poem

Us, a la Ginsberg

All I was doing was waiting for dinner on a winter’s Sunday.
You walked in the room, we dined together, and you left holding my heart.
Thus, speaking of us is a matter of fortune, even the partings.
Still, we’ve grown old together within these years of absence and silence.
I love you in my way each day, even when I rale at the alone.  

We’re proof that some things are important, but others quite ephemeral:
Perfumes become confused with time, while hairstyles and fashions are passing.
The sole fully memorable kiss is the very last time lips met.
A passing woman told me, The perfect breasts are the ones you hold now.
Even the shape of a hand means less than then, no matter how tender.  

The thing that sticks with me, even in mid-night, is personal at heart:
I will recall your eyes as they said my name far beyond eternity.  


Category
Poem

CAIN

YOUR BROTHER’S BLOOD CRIES OUT.
IT WILL NOT BE HIDDEN.
IT RISES FROM THE EARTH
LIKE LOST PASSION,
FREED FROM THE SERPENT’S MOUTH.

THE MOTHER WEPT FOR BOTH.
THE FATHER IMPLORED HEAVEN
TO SPARE ONE AND MARK HIM.
THE FIRST DEATH, THE FIRST JUDGMENT
MADE A HOME FOR THE DEMON,
MADE A TEMPLE FOR HIM.

GOD STRUCK THE FLESH MARK
TO SHOW IT WAS HIS WORK,
NOT CRAFT OF THE DARKNESS.

HE FASHIONED IT AS LIGHTNING BRIGHT,
AS ONE WITH NO SEPARATE PART.
A CRY IN THE WIND, ONE WORD.

NO MAN MAY DISTURB HIM
WHEN HE SEES THE BRAND THERE.
HIS HAIR AS WHITE AS SNOW.
HE REAPS A HARVEST OF REMORSE.

HIS EYES WITHOUT EXPRESSION,
AS IF BLIND, BUT MUCH THEY KNOW,
TIED TO THE SAVAGE EARTH BY BLOOD.
THE YEARS FALL OFF LIKE SAND.

THE BODY THAT GAVE PRAISE,
BESIDE HIS EQUAL BROTHER,
BETRAYS HIM.

HE WALKS A SILENT LAND,
AS FAR TO THE EAST
AS MEMORY LASTS FROM EDEN.


Category
Poem

careening static seas of ceaseless surds, 
black seedbeds’ freckled femur’s sultry,
sibilant soughing soothes and succors,
sorts, resorts, and, tittering smooths—∴

  like tongueless
Orpheus transposing
  radio static in
tactless clacks or
  cracking glass

cold dribble of ink’s amorphous membrane
clung against torridly sun-stained chrome

a thought
                  a pulse 
                                compelled it
forward
                fleshing out 
                                       a fickle surd’s
attempt at tenuous mimicry
                                                    sown through a shadow
                                                                                                 combing from crumbling
corners
               patchwork ridges shadows sheared
                                                                                 in limberly lumbering
patterns
                moonglow
                                     blueberry blue
                                                                  sprawled lissomely rich
                                                                                                               as stockings stretch
to blear these crazing veins and creases
                                                                           craning manes and shrunken pieces,
jury-rigged rounds of Newman’s Guilty,
The Bonny Swans, and Love and Mercy.

The Judge lies
south of a shipyard’s
blistering clarion cranking
cannery static.

A crinkling steeldrum
cast across splintering heartstrings
strapped and bolted tight
as a snickering rictus
sallowed teeth grit.

Quiet canaries blackened
blot and plot the
Euxine’s swoln and
shoaling bays, 

but splattering song
or tempestuous tirades
teasing at age’s nyngkilings
swift as stars elude
an old orrery’s orders,
stammering, bruxist, juggernaut, star-clock;
red banded youth in cacophonous chorus line.

Stars, a rash
among perfect darkness,
perforations puckering seamless paper,
signs and sigils stitched
in quilters’ tried and trusted stencils;

stencils, fashioned
fixed in fractured
tracts of inviolable tracing paper:

ophidian bolts unfolded,
frayed, and flaccidly framing flawless forms,

as though you’d swaddle insufferable sackcloth snugly ’round wan David‘s thighs

(quaint personage scourging scrupled eyes
 as umbrous voices bilboes stalk
 and doctrines darken deathly still;
 as cumbrous choices fillip stocks
 and mockeries meekly measure all
 sensitive creatures heartfelt frissons
 cramp, enfeeble, cripple, riffle, roil, 
 crack— alight, and slacken).

Call a thing by its name
  and make it so,
a pianola’s sacred scroll  
  an incantation dreamily leering

Helter Skelter
  Stygian oaths
of skulls and bones
  cast over a welter

sweetened in dippel’s
  or smeared in realgar, woad, flax
left stitched to a star
  and cast in a faction’s
stiffly smoldering mold
  of impervious iron
chains of them anchored
  by wires belayed,
uncoiling, creaking lines
  disgruntled Mamet’s
mild metronome
  stirs and surges
echoing drunken seamsters,
   initiate friends
of a Morai’s union
  shaping fates
in flawless, thoughtless,
  limberly senseless
lines and leads
  a Singer’s pulsing
prong attuned to
  tried and tireless
patterns creased
  and yellowing— lo!
though pressed
  in precious poesy
further, radiant,
  throbbing steam
each fringe alights
  among endless,
ineffable forms
  of ouroboros barred
in staffs and measures
  a shepherd had
seized in tremulous frenzy,
  Patrick afeard of his sibilant,
sibylline snakes still— lo!

the posers pained
  in leaden paint,
those evermore jealous
  of Ellison’s struggle
that stirred such
  plumply potent poems,
plums a thrawn and
  charring star must
pickle thick and gold
  as umeboshi;
who’d smear a
  stolen photo, rimed
with bluntly splintered
  surds and garish oils
to matte a perfidious
  pallor guilt had wrung
with a plug of
  purported color, light
inditing languid love
   ‘long thrawn, indelible
fractures; bees encircling
  rings of broken branches,
sensible as sodden breezes
  pluck at dangling pipes
and bottles braying—

  Echoes of Ellison
sleepily sung
  in tone-deaf numbness
mumbling maws
  eruct in some
saturnine sap like
  tactless ants this
bobbing breeze
  implores to
fancifully fling through whistling windows—

Glib groomers of
  Jack the Bear
bedazzling dander charred
  in paled and tailored
mellocreme molten pulses forged;
  what torrid ideals
and harrowing hordes
  of torches tousling 
mindless meat, frail
  artery chewn from
blackened flesh 
  a plate adorned,
  a cringe bespoke,
wet wad of cud
what Wagyu cribbed
  from glimmering grout
  of jet and pearlescent
sediment polished flagstones flaunt;
those crisply viscid teeth
   of a pedigree’s grin
impressing properly prominent prints
  upon orange, ruffled tule
of a circus attraction
  trammeled in tedious two-steps—

Ursula pawing her howler’s claw,
  shimmied with whipping tales’ arrangements, 
  skinning a cordial engagement raw, found
  papering yellowing walls in tender dander
singed in dappling smoke
a cringe bespoke
a plate adorned
and crazed in curdled blood
mistook for dirt or stiffening pudding
leaden flakes of paint arraigned as staggering tangrams
gods drawn long among caking dandruff
wielding wild wigs and warpéd mallets
sanded, lathed, and stained, the lacquered,
stitched in sciamachy’s shimmering camiknickers,
a teddy stretched hard and flat as blistering asphalt queens streaked muddling lines through—

to tie a tongue in
  languid, lulling lines
wan, peevish limelights lazily
  whet and dampen; drupulets,
racemes stars assay, that
  laymen’s scrofulous touch
contracts, then, withering
  blithering march among
battered pieces sloughed
  from forebears’ formless
puzzles flustered, bent,
  upended, burnt,
unbroken, still
encased in imp-
ervious prisms
that thoughtles-
sly,  far-flung t-
heorists shape-
d from molds
of dreams fr-
om which no
light escapes
and nary so-
me surd’s w-
arm smudge
distorts—

a turtleshell spider attempts to ascend my cuff,
assaying my length against distant trees
each perilous inch by parlous leap;  

the baffling suction,
drums coarse seawater snakes across
picking a chittering snare to seize
and release in a leveling peal,
diminished to silence
ruffled in glorious
birdsong heralding dawn
or something brighter
and evermore colorful
moving—

This blizzard’s clearing, azure, crisp:
feel fewer frustrating frissons fizzle. 
A dream informed me seasons prior, 
All of us will be left here as small and cold as the snow.
(I sleep in the shape of laborious hieroglyphs most nights.) 
The dial’s sloughed that dithered ‘twixt shrouded and snow-blind.
The aerial’s sinuous shimmy spirals in wild menageries free
as Athenian birds, as slithering glints a fluid, perfervid thread of sumptuous surds (that tones of throatsong flesh) thrusts heartily, simpering, forward, cresting,
weaving among our sunrise fresher hues here hitherto often merged
in molten, pulsing, unrelenting reds and blue of a glaucous bruise.


Category
Poem

light years

even in daylight
we know the moon is there
pale and waxing
or was it waning?. . . 

do you think
the stars still sing
so we can hear
their truth

you wait
in the amber dusk
soaking in the light
for me

when i earnestly try
to reach you
running on a loop
it seems impossible

like a collapsing star
i think i see you
but you’re just a shadow
of what’s already gone

a reason to get out
the beacon of hope
your fading skeleton
light years away

listen
can you see it?


Category
Poem

Stamping Ground

Two gas stations

Right beside each other

One dollar store

And one school

A trailer park

And a hundred farms

A few churches

And lots of backroads

A water tower

Spray painted “will you marry me?”

A little small town

That’s my hometown


Category
Poem

Dervish Clouds

Pale cirrus clouds shine in a gritty sky,
Where sand from the Sahara,
Six thousand miles away
But nearly the size of my country
Swirls above me unseen. 

Each year, the transoceanic winds
Carry this desert bounty
To fertilize Amazon rain forests,
Build Caribbean beaches, 
Sooth Atlantic hurricanes,
And turn our inland sunsets to flame. 

The translucent clouds wheel overhead
In the shell-pink sunset sky, 
Turning slowly, like the white woolen robes
Of whirling dervishes
I saw years ago in Cappadocia. 

Not Sufis themselves, of course; 
Those so avowed must not perform their sacred dance
For mere spectators.  I saw trained actors, 
Who must practice for years. 
Even the semblance must be perfect. 
I’m not sure it matters which rite you see, 
Art or worship, if heaven knows everything, 
And the true dance is in your heart. 

Turning, turning, turning.
The hypnotic chanting voices,
The music of ney, rabab, and oud, 
The flickering candles, 
A gray moth circling overhead,
Above the ancient stone walls
Of the caravansery at Sarihan.

The cool dry breeze,
The doves taking flight off the roof,
The soft flap of those twirling robes,
Spreading around the dancers like creamy petals, 
Unfolding, the solemn ritual rippling outward.
I carry it with me still, a world and an ocean away. 

Tonight the dancers visit me again,
In these numinous clouds, 
Spinning slowly under a crescent moon,
In a haze of sand from another desert,
Over my own green fields. 


Category
Poem

midsummer

the town is alive with greenery
and songs
and people,
everything 
softened next to the churn of the sea
and the brightness of the day. 
The feasts and bonfires,
the branch man built every year. 
I miss home.
But,
 It  is important to be here now.


Category
Poem

Dangerous Reruns

Federally Legalize Marijuana
Before some Drunk assholes
Reboot reefer madness


Category
Poem

Ports of Call

Ports of Call

Fresh as first light, that dawn unseen
before, it will never repeat —
that day I stood and listened for
the known among the alien

tongues, those merchant ships of language
fresh. At first, light — the dawn unseen —
then song itself unwound, graceful
like a lark tracing alphabets,

each arabesque and loop fading
as the muezzin called out his prayer
fresh as first light, the dawn. Unseen
behind shuttered wall, veiled windows

broke open, spilling gold, blossoms
of exotic names I stumbled 
over, while far west, the moon rose
fresh, as first. Light, the dawn — unseen.


Category
Poem

Explosion in the Night

A star silenced before our eyes
Betelgeuse passed

and for a moment
one brief moment 
damned voices asked
Are all our stars doomed?

Luminous eyes beyond the azure sea
disagreed wholeheartedly 
this will be
no less
no wonder forgotten
every light has it’s hour

There was an explosion in the night
where a star once passed
in this moment, 
you can finally see
existence

harken to the fire
let it become yours 
forget nothing
of this