Category Archives: #poetry

CRYING, HOPING & SINGING

True how love never fades away
there within the dark pines
where everything is tangibly real
as the phosphorus celestial moon
affects oceans & hearts;
as one day is every day —
chasing each other.

feelings
emotions tears from south
& north eating west and east
the rarest of sights: a snowflake
in June kneeing my ship of ta-to-to-too
uncovering my Heart as a ship
with a black cross — a pirate navigating
by way of a silver gull. Still, and so,
i arise before the yellowed-yoke of the Sun!
crying! As i dry my wet soul.

:: 06.23.2020 ::


FRESH FROM ETERNITY UNTO THIS WORLD

A WORLD too much – – so morning broken
sun and soon the place of much:  
a waste of beautiful powers:  that we see
spending sweet wages upon vaporish
fantastical wishes;
    Romeo as Juliet — little light of Nature
that might have been like the fresh Sea
bares creation through destruction — sand castles
of me less forlorn;  
Oh sweet new faults teaching me i am a new born
what moves us is not but through Great God
 hearts out of tune;  my mind is not evening
but morning’s eager Triton who blows his
wreathed horn.    Fresh from Eternity Unto
This World.

:: 06.22.2020 ::


A LASTING DREAM

i dreamed a dream so wonderfully sweet
  dreamed a dream of if and then what
i dreamed
  struggling to never awaken
  struggling to never remember
i dreamed
  and within many tears awoken
  wishing i had never ever
dreamed the dream so wonderfully sweet.

:: 06.21.2020 ::


INK WELL

IF SO
is good
if SO
is comparable to
the lit ferns of paradise i bid good well
and good nights
to hear the dim notes of heavenly songs
flutter through currant bushes as our veins
this pleasant evening of tangled vines.
My sky is a lover — the lover of my Soul:
brush strokes of communion and paints so bold.

The sky is an angel.

and my hand and mouth are so ignorant.

Have patience — no boredom please;
the ink well is full and obtuse.

:: 06.18.2020 ::


THRICE

W\
 a s/
   it   o n c e
or  t w ice
   Love fettered the lining of
a once golden sun
      when your thin hands touched
this Heart?   Was it once or twice
  i tasted the nectar of your heart?
   if Once then the shame upon me;
if twice — then i agree –> thrice\
was it once?  Was it twice?
    my twisted lips and covered eye
take flight!

:: 06.21.2020 ::


A POET’S CONFESSION

\ Mister E.E. Cummings and Ms. Dickinson,
   i have made up something new and the
difficulties — why?  People are traditional.
   as they like what already exists \
and when someone comes wanting 2 revolutionize
everything…simply everything…well, these words
i write come from the heart, that poetry is female
therefore she speaks my heart. Sir.  Ma’am.  forgive
me if  my prose disturbs your heart — and that is exactly what i aimed for! /

:: 06.20.2020 ::


NOCTURNE IN B FLAT MINOR, OP. 9 NO. 1

\ Upon one hand is a large finger —
then the other a butterfly
oh hear the fallen rain! the gutters
of my lonely heart — it sings;
a melody before here unheard of!
The Smallest is a Thing of no name
barely, an echo of memories
–and just the same! Such a strain
upon this stain that still remains,
within my soon fragmented brain –,
the smallest thing; as butterflies
having taken flight from dark memories.
AND i remain always the same.

:: 06.20.2020 ::


THE GROSS CLINIC

DRESSED within your black frock coat
darkly lecturing among the dead flayed
and white faced interns — next to tunnel railing
with white cuffed sleeves sketching a prose unknown
and Dr. Franklin West studiously taking notes
— the operation upon a dead body has no mouth
to scream.

the conservative operation
for osteomyelitis /and amputation out of question;
an advance sight for its time — prevention of
infection is seen.

:: 06.19.2020 ::


AMBER-Time

WELL, that no one is serious at a young age;
–cacophony of laughter and endless nights
And avant-garde blaring cafes are the very worst
to clear a mind — if not a true poet.
— memories as shadows weakly limping and a liver
requesting what last drink you consumed —
i once strolled beneath a green fluorescent
light on the promenade//i once lost my tongue
and saw it caterpillar-like crawling on a fine
June night; i think then i lost my eyesight
and now require echo-location like a creature
that never spoke!
There! The fossilized town in amber-time;
everyone is frozen until i speak toward any
of them — for eternity.

:: 06.19.2020 ::


The Birth of Fire and Air

The sun, calmed by the souls that Life feeds
pours burning and sweetest night’s air
to Listen is as water flowing over the surface
of smooth river rocks — How & now melancholy
are the naked shingles of Earth very full-
blooded;  to hunger for the antique youth
of someone else we once dismayed — the immense
pullulation of all embryos!
  In  the bellicose weakened birthing morning
of yellow sun’s Light are physical masterpieces,
the violent gums and silver-hammering beating
flowing heart’s blood!  As my heart began to beat!

    I followed a swallow into the open fields;
my feet as crystal columns broken by themselves
upon my thin neck!

:: 06.15.2020 ::