Category Archives: #1800s

THE WORLD SMELLED OF BURNING HOPE

FOLDED are the burnt angelic wings, my last heavenly fight where all celestial beings bled golden blood, and afterward all wines flowed.

Today i pour thankfulness and tears into a chalice older than the rocks i sit upon.

How temporal beings unknowingly acting out the last drama above their heads.

Entrusted sacred Heart i have armed against injustice.

The stage hand chooses the curtain’s openings and closings.

Watching as i remove cosmic dust from my brow many living and nonliving things around me perish.  Enough!  To manage erasure of hope I nakedly rode the wild beast’s silent leap to perish all joy.

Hiding behind human skin, how admired and hated.  One of love one of scorn.  Alone, broken,
poor, destituded within a face not living but dead they do not ever see.  A poet once said,
“they won’t kill you any more than if you were a corpse.’

History of incredible folly.  A mind uniquely landscaped by the cosmic bang  i destroy all
understanding of word and stanza, painted the color of vowels!  A beauty, E quisite, I loved, O  you, U nless i am a dreamer dreaming me.  

While on the descent I caught a glimpse of…

It was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen, that moment, when not one but two young stars were drawn to the wall like bees to honey.

I smiled like a sunrise.

Sunrise gazed upon a face, one that so many have marveled at for centuries, yet never had time to record in books.

The face was hers.

The one who personifies the poetic tradition of her order.

I exhaled so deeply it seared the porcelain lining of my lungs.

She laughed but it was not the melancholy laugh of a deity preparing for the next incarnation.

It was in pure joy at being behind human skin, how admired and hated. One of love one of scorn. Alone, broken, poor, destituded within a face Ania dedicated me to the Only One i know.

This is the ring she gave me, a pale, pearl – like, peridot teardrop.

Uncle gave it to her.

I bought it to represent the rare beauty of a most human and human – made treasure.

“The closest thing to appearing as an angel.”

— Lauren Bacall Having an epiphany one day from ‘surrendering’ to a divine being, I looked up and saw a perfectly formed blonde woman wearing a white dress sitting on the soft, green grass right in front of me. The woman held my daughter’s blue stuffed bear as if it were an actual person.

She told me to take this bear and I would never need another one.

I knew she was absolutely correct.

I put the bear in my pocket

I held it kneeling at the Comerica Pavilion.

:: 01.01.2022 ::


FOURTEEN

i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!

To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.

Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.

Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.

Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life

It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).

14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.

:: 12.24.2020 ::


SUN AGAINST THE NIGHT

The nasty dark night ate the sun!

The farmers wailed against the dim moon,

“Be sane, or make it otherwise!”

Yesterday i awoke with a torn brain

against lover’s thousand acidic eyes

ripped apart by dying beds.

My screaming wish held but just Ourselves–
and Immortality.

:: 12.21.2020 ::


THE WORRIED SCHOLARS

      hairy love is brutal
i kissed the epitome
   and swum across the
seas  —  like i screamed
screamed before:  you’re
so good — more than love
could wish for more —
i do not love you but because
i love you i die every word/
wishing scholars worried about
my thoughts –> i cannot protect
for their degree is a back city
trance; hahaha \ studying
me.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


MISSISSIPPI RIVER

the stairs became more
tiny as i took each step
until i had to step upon
nonsense
— i thought of those
muggy nights in a trailer
by the Mississippi River:
so perched inside my fear-
just a boy in the early
70s and my skin made it
hurt. so beautiful
is the world — but we pay
with emotional destruction.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


GOLD

SHE will say what love is:
and yesterday told me so.
doesn’t matter if the sun
is bright or the longest
of rainy days — i could
never know/mentioned how
a few true men are:
doesn’t matter if the sun
is bright or of darkest
days their true hearts are
as good as gold.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


BUTTERFLY

i am the blade never made
oh please give me
thunderous eyes
give us love
and surprise
— please
give us
more than
god could ever
from your mouth
are butterflies
spring and energy
of yellow & whites
oh yea oh yes.
butterfly.
i follow you & love
all your shapes &
colors. i do.

:: 07.27.2020 ::


NO AUDIENCE NEEDED

\

i found two feet walking along a shoreline called Mississippi River and there was not a breeze or sound: the world was frozen. Blue ice.
So i began my journey there.
found colors, notes and feelings,
a catfish caught on a line; i saw
the water and skies moving gently
across my soul; this i did and i
had no feelings — it was spectacular
to view. Caught out of time and wonder
-ing what love could ever be as this.
i am not wishing. I am not granting.
I am not human. I am not anything you
can comprehend. I am alone.

Alone.

No audience needed. I write for myself.

:: 07.27.2020 ::


WINDMILL THOUGHTS

WHETHER a windmill
or a Thought
does not concern
the Soul.
The wind mills
about until told
how to perform.
is nature
and weather of
any human heart.

:: 07.24.2020 ::


REMEMBER ME TO WONDER

WITHIN all this time
within my frail skin
my mighty heart still lies
she made a warm soup
while i wandered as a lonely
cloud that floats outside
a window while at night (dreaming):
A host of tellings —
a sickle of amazing sun-honey
lit hearts — beside the lake,
beneath trees, we thrived &
danced within the immortal winds.

:: 07.24.2020 ::