Posts for June 27, 2022 (page 4)

clouds will not lift

in an effort to lose weight,
i now walk everywhere. today eight thousand steps
up east high, across main, broadway, mill,
a long circle around gratz park. in an effort
to lose weight i avoid mirrors
and grow my hair long enough
to frame, to disappear the picture inside,
oiling it down each night. suddenly i agree
to climb up mountains over six long miles,
everything scratching my calves. the whole way
i dial my music loud, trying not to think of you.
in an effort to lose weight
i fold my round arms over my waist,
untuck my shirt, run all the way
from one conclusion to another,
in an effort to lose
weight i shrink down and down
hoping i’m small enough to be touched or
devoured hoping to live in the bottom
of your stomach hoping a mountain down
into its flat grass beds, its million tiny
green steps, its sun-rippled corners,
its slow shudder between
one breath and the next.

I was reborn
From fire
And chaos

I have rebuilt
From ash
And rubble

I desire peace
For my soul
And heart

I stoke flames
Of adventure
And curiously

So when you find me
As I know you will

All I ask
Is that

You love me wild
Or
Leave me be

I watched
the shadow of a vulture

glide over the highway,
a dark line across

tops of each passing car,
moving against traffic,

moving against logic
where upon first glance,

it felt bigger than us all.

Owl’s hoot, coyote’s call
Moth wings beat against desk lamp
As our pens scratch sheet

Thoughts and words and lines
Folding, forever creasing
Terrible shaping

We hang fragile shapes
On gossamer threads above
As brethren wander,
Wonder beneath wings and tails
Braced for launch into the world

Poets perch
spaced out
along the river
wall, hunched,
still as herons,
staring deep. 
They each fish
in their own
white pool. 

Back in Kentucky, the rains provided
our soundtrack.
In this home, you can’t hear it
at first.

You have to look out to see.

I traded the Commonwealth’s rhythms for a glass door
direct to Central Jersey’s mossy, pine needled land.
The mighty roots that rabbits and squirrels hop over.
The troops of sparrows and the dustings of blackbirds and
the bachelor blue jay, busy with their newsgiving.

More rain pours and the grass here is just as green.
Puddles in every earth become birdbaths.
A pair of cardinals stop by daily
to remind
us of where you and I first met.

Processing rage,
collapsing America,
listening to rain.  

Immerse myself in forest,
march on pavement, join the fight.

the road to nirvana may be hidden in a playground

the collection plate may be a tip jar for the holy

he thought to himself just before he tripped

Today the only proper words are curses,
but the Speaker of the House reads a poem
while those without voice are carried quietly in hearses,

the fascists have longed to reimburse us
with help of racists who thought Obama tainted the White Home,
too many days the only proper words make curses,

bad faith actors leaked all kinds of cruel verses,
the Speaker’s one of a great sum who could’ve stopped em,
so many without choice driven nightly in hearses.

I cannot abide forced birthers,
no womb should be governed by power hungry whim,
these days the only proper words create curses,

we’ve been saying it’ll only get worse (as)
you join hands and sing another hymn
after those without voice are driven quietly in hearses.

What you’ll do except repetitiously converse is?
Damned if all I can do is write a poem,
still the only proper words form curses
while those without choice are carried nightly in hearses.