Daily Archives: December 25, 2015

I WROTE A POEM INSIDE THE SUN TODAY

i wrote a poem inside the sun today
and though my words are late it is
so ordinary, girl. and who is to blame
and love was her name and not so
ordinary was her heart — for a long
what time it took to bloom but a field
waiting like a lovely melody // everyone
can sing and who’s to blame? i waited
so long to see a bloom of love and life
no one to blame for the hearts that never
bleed into one from two and like a word
that rhymes and love was her name and
we tripped the light and danced until June
and the merry-go-round never made a sound
and so maybe we were moving too fast
catching all the words but never knew
“God, I miss this girl” to be closer
to her than my own heart beats within me
i wrote a poem inside my soul today
and i never knew her but loved her name
and though my words are late it is so
ordinary, if I can’t have her i’ll do
without her until the end of time
just to say, “i love you”

:: 12202015 ::


CELLOPHANE OF RAIN

poem.png


THE KILLER DIES BEFORE THE DAWN

“I’m not going to cry all the time” said Frank O’hara.
I felt it was the end and if it’s the end
— a friend of the end so beautiful a friend
oh, my only friend, the end If I am half of life leaving
love I leave memories lost within a Roman wilderness
of pain and all adults (who are child dead) are insane
all by crested birds within the middle of my vein-
heart of believing the very fact i am a dying poet
Do you see the space of time beyond eyes and love —
where God cannot go it is the season of childhood
leaving our friend: flesh. And there’s danger at the edge
of life riding the King’s highway, where pictures of what we’ll be
desperately strangely — a desperate land of lake, miles,
oldest skin as coldest westerly best — the romance of humanity
and all the leaves falling and children singing : all insane
and I’m not going to cry all the time said Frank O’Hara while the King’s
henchmen rode and found the face of ancient glory — and we ride the snake
into the room where his sister lived ,old, skin is cold, and paid a visit to
the brother and – the rest. I won’t won’t cry when I see the blue bird
it’s calling out…traveling where you take us.

:: 122202015 ::


THE WORLD IS A PLASTIC DOME

feelings so gently
i am leaving
my skin

when i see you hear you
watch you walking near me
gently touching my thoughts
the world dissolves
into a central point of you
many thoughts
of what you are// the light
escaping twilight
a word defying the ending
of a poem:!: beware beware
beware because because —
we live life walking into
a semi-dark theater holding
up a burning candle and souls
shuffling from shadow to shadow
the glided souls strain and spine,
into dreams we dig six feet deep
in our wishes and dreams!

:: 122220215 ::


THE IMMORTALITY OF LOVE

WHEN light comes
through these eyes
and falls upon
a swollen heart
a burning fresco
of something
sweeter than honey
the fluoroscope
of gentle love
and does yes
it come,gazing with me
upon this petal
of hope in morning
breath!

:: 12242015 ::


THE FUNERAL PROCESSION

WHEN she died the world carried on
some knew and bled others fled
some stood instead but the ladies
hearing she’d passed cried
wishing they’d be the one to
greet her on the other side
these beautiful souls wore red
and some pink thinking bees
Emily wrote to the world
who never wrote her back
and finally one day by the door
a carriage stopped just for her
and they rode down a gravel road
and some in orange dresses
and some always in red
When finally the world heard
her voice she was already
buried and poetry is much the
richer by her.

:: 12242015 ::


DECEMBER

THE voice of winter
so warm today
and burned me apart
To where love begins
in shallow rose boughs
Spring came so soon
stripping me upon the
ground: love’s eyes
risen before morning’s
sun.

:: 12242015 ::


I FORGET WHILE I TASTE A SMILE

Carry on carry on
love is bright like a diving dove
and we’re so messed
-up all overboard (oh i know i know
,i know hello?) missed your last
kiss-calling text it’s so sweet to
see you in a smart-
phone-bologna world and hello?
Hello? Hello?
My fresco heart moving
panting-painting assured bury the last time
when we kissed feeling stupid
i was a cutthroat love bleeding in your
cabbage garden of mere seeds of lust –hey
hello, hell, hell, hello//
we’re so overboard (hello) so over-torn
and the bee spits out nectar, and the robin
her egg and the monster it’s tears
hello, it was not as worse as last night
when little tribes from the forest marched
forth to burn the world//in the night-time
we’re so loose and so stupid all for albino
all for freedom! Yeah! Give me 4 olives
to sing about the werewolves in London
yeah.

:: 12240215 ::