Tag Archives: #poetry

We The Birds You Always Charm Atop Lookouts

WE are the trees that never change
We are the rivers and creeks that always flow
in our hour

We are the crown of the white chrysanthemum
and the brilliance of the sky
and the shadow that crept under my window
and how can the memory of those moments ever be wasted?

Without any help from you there is nothing here
can I write.

If a bee breaks the buzzing silence
the silence itself will roar with its own size.

After the waiting of man
the forest refuses to wait

Who would have thought the forest could be waiting
for longer?

No longer long in the curves of the canopy of its green.

What must the saw-whet owl in the felled tree
swoop to listen in the long grass
Who would have thought the air would be so full of bee and dusk?

No human in the forest lives alone
only forest and meadow, and me.

No man in the forest gives life.
No man in the forest gives and takes.
No man in the forest fights the trees.
No man in the forest tears to see
so the forest goes.

And trailed roots leave their soiled path.

:: 10.27.2022 ::


Eros! Do Not Flee from Me!

MY adventure began no less than upon this chilling night when homes of many lower their shades and kill the light.
As sullen souls lay down for bed and fall into dreams some common sense was telling me I ought to follow; but my heart stood firm and I – in place of fear!

While conviction (that solid shiny compass) melted color-pale and heavy fright that night my plan was nothing
more than this: to find the house of EROS to cure my heart of alder blight! After Chaos, Gaia, and Tartarus he
was born but for I — as I for him this night, my ambition over fear.

EROS, the God of Love and sexuality could show the path for enduring love of my bride to be … my writ of right!
Nothing more to keep me still so I fled into the frozen hills upon a whirlwind. Yes, me the mere mortal like EROS I sped
beating glittering golden wings upon my hidden fear.

Heavy a burden of knowing what must be, that fate of me. As my beast passed through the mist and soared in height she
bravely carried on across barren wasteland and icy bog as sad and frozen waters gravely sang to me, “CHAOS …” and
my eyes were slightly hidden – Monmouth and fear.

And it seemed to me that humanity might have just begun as we moved by wood and sullen hill surging forth in might.
Oh! Pity us as EROS must feel the greater that his bride was no less than CHAOS!

Soon I came upon a chasm which has no name but keeps a flame the light of Luna burned – to see the truth of life this night.

The dance of light upon the night stirred a feeling within my soul.

Soothing my beast I released the burden of my weight and there she fled into the night like burning crystal – who eased my fear.

And within the gaping chasm of this slightly twisted gash of soil I faced my future fate by gently carefully moving forward into that dim light.

And into the night like oil each footstep soaked inside my soul; the fear within this slice of time grabbing my throat
so fierce and I, like EROS, felt as one with love, less that burning fear.

My mind a fever beating like a raging river I slowly seeped into the porous night
like some hungry ravenous creature who only wishes blood and bite. But soon that moment of decision as I met that ancient door of lore.

And with my hand so cold and grey I took to knock upon the legend no less EROS. In retrospect I must confess: seconds felt as minutes – minutes like hours, all in fear!

The sane and stable heart might wish to judge the fool I am but the need for love is stronger than the shame of fools
or mortal smite. To those who know the pain and silence of an empty life tonight compels the heart to find one’s lover
and to face one’s fear!

But this night my plan was nothing more than this: to find the house of that primordial god EROS no less
after Chaos, Gaia, and Tatarus he was born but for I — as I for him this night my ambition would find the way
feeble fear fled my coattails — chaos, darkness and abyss.

Nothing more to see so I fled into the frozen hills.

Yes me the mere mortal like EROS I sped upon a whirlwind beating glittering golden wings upon the night’s tempest
The burden of know what must be and that fate of me jarred my senses as my beast carried me across the wasteland.

The cold and waters so sadly sang to me DARK CHAOS by the grey woods and sullen hills I surged forth
ignoring fear.

Through my eyes were slight covered by cloth the light of Luna burned as though humanity truly only began to see the truth of life this night.

Pity us as EROS must feel to be when he mated DARK CHAOS

Entwined in wings they brought forth humanity who first saw light of day!

There within the smoke, within the mire of smirk and defiled fire sat Apophis. The one who took away the love that was the love meant for this soul of me.


Dead Girl’s Smile

Not that anyone cares.
In the lightless hall striking scores with hands, toes, thighs, waist,
the gesture becomes language itself; surgeons wear masks, the women wear masks.

Mirrors on the walls
Reflect glasses on eyeballs
As heads, arms, hands, feet,
And legs are moved and erased,
Draped in skin-tight gowns
Which hang from feet,
In corpses’ striving twists,
Untransfigured hands grasp pillows
as they are pushed back to lift dressings,
as they try to fold clothes which flutter to the floor like bared breasts

As heads are pressed into pillows, like soil into seed.

And he is no doctor.
A vampiress is there, and she fixes her eyes on him, her mouth curling
to cast a dead girl’s smile when she speaks to him in Her foreign tongue.

When he leans over her to press the mirror to her forehead
as she is being lifted for transfer to Healing care, It is a mirror
Of life, and he asks his patient

What she sees,
And she responds,

“You see?

You’re dead.”

And now her stories and poems appear in public space, best poets, prairie Schooner.

Too.

:: 10.25.2022 ::


Quietly Unseen

QUIETLY UNSEEN

Forgive me, father!
In youth, at country fairs,
I didn’t seek out boring shooting galleries where every shot hits,
Rather, those loud places where donkeys
With weary flanks unfurled long bloody tubes
I still can’t comprehend!
And my mother too,
Whose slip smelled sharply,
Rumpled and yellowed at its hem like fruit,
My mother who would climb noisily into bed
-A daughter of toil-my mother, with her
Ripe womanly thighs, her heavy hips
Creasing the sheets, got me hot in ways you shouldn’t talk about!
A rawer, calmer guilt came
When my little sister, just back from class,
Her clogs worn down on the ice,
Pissed, and I watched a mawkish thread of urine!
Escape from her tight pink nether lips.
o forgive me!
Sometimes I would think about my father:
At night, card games and bawdy talk,
Our neighbor stopping by, me shoved aside, seeing certain things …
-Fathers can be frightening! -The things you imagine!
His lap, sometimes cuddly; his pants
My finger wanted to pry open at the fly … -Dh no!-
To touch my father’s dark, fat, hard head,
Whose hairy hand had rocked me!
I shouldn’t speak __|

:: 10.25.2022 ::


Hanging for Your Mistakes

i kick the stones
out my way | take the blame
, eat the fruit & hang from
a branch or a cross ! lay your lace and get this mother gone — i bowed a cross so gather around : and i don’t like how you make me hang around | and i don’t like what you got me hanging from a blaming fruit ? could it be priceless taste or how you always make me hang from your mistakes? okay, taste the blame, eat the fruit, kiss the snake
i never liked you had me hanging
for your mistakes.

lay your motor-rage : eat the one
mistake got me burning you and your
soul | and i don’t like what you’ve
got me hanging from and I don’t like
what I’m hanging from : all your
mistakes.

:: 10.23.2022 ::


Inside the Orchestra

buried but burst! creation & love
became all___love first a voice
then a word became Light
and all Thought
& feelings | became Godlike as Our
Father of thoughts.

and i wonder where you are —
i want to wake up where you
are | oh, my…let it slide.

Did every word hit a wall
i suppose i can let you know –
i can’t say anything at all —–
s l i d e –> do you love it
when god calls and i suppose
i’ll be a Man and wake up with you
_in little pieces i believe i’m
dreaming a dream called Life
so i’m singing inside the orchestra
of what i am what you are ? wanna
get married? wake up where i am
and a dream to dream a complete
dream of tough life with tears

come true.

:: 10.23.2022 ::


By Death of Feeling

BY DEATH OF FEELING

BY
death of

f e e l 

-ing or
passion of tasting:

i ATE YOU devoured
all existence of doubt |
my Thoughts all Inside
the confused lovers
looking.

    glass__________

ate’ing butterflies by Nature
i AM NATURE : eat me too &
sing songs without words but by
your Souls!

:: 10l23.2022 ::


a Taste of Infinity

AND i say love is
gravity pulling minds & hearts for untold centuries!

My Lips have grown cold | as hops hoppering grass
-hoppers | as love personally looking like   GOD  
(i love YOU).

   This entire single pin-pricked
atom is a beautiful evirescent
taste of infinity … (ellipses to
the left)

   My skin touches you : your Love
feels & i love the technique of
conversation dear ~~~ my tongue
rests there by paradise.

So many odes.  Buried by sands of
inconsequential moments.  i, this
poet, does not give out or give in |
i am more than wolf.  

   I am true man.

:: 10.23.2022 ::
(a new word tonight)


Love Is a Blooming Flower

I am (my love is) love as if you were
the free rising winds
of life or arrow
of roses and thorns that disperse despair!

I love you as towering buildings
stand tall and thunderheads speak
with lighting;

my nature is natural to love you as the
plant that blooms and carries beauty
hidden within itself until the light of sun
brings forth those flowers as my heart
blooms for you when the world sleeps.

I am there I love you as mystery breaths
the interest of wondering minds and the
dense fog of some- time life is difficult
but mostly I am deeply
appreciative that there is no I or you,
only our hands entwined by faith, love,
devotion and time.
I love you.

:: 11132015 ::


The Wolf Ate The Princess

“If I say something often enough, it becomes true,” said Hal Garrigan, stroking his chin.
“And what are these things I said last night, these transcendent things which are nothing?
I just said there are no monsters, that we’re never really alone, and that we don’t have
to belong to anyone because we’re free to go where we like. And we can make love all night,
and sleep all day.”

Those are all true, aren’t they?
Those are really true.
But what’s missing is all that the best poetry has to say.

Ah, yes, all that bit about the hot breath of the beast on our necks in the dark, and knowing that the smallest movement can cause the very earth to blow apart, and the silence in the place we live is only a mistake in the playing of the piano.
That’s a grand idea, isn’t it?
A mistake.
I have to give thanks I thought of it myself.
Otherwise I might have been quite insane by now.
Well, madder than I am.

I don’t know, maybe even crazy.
There are things we’re not supposed to think about.”
“Like what?”
“All these characters in fairy tales.
The king, the princess, the wolf that’ll eat you up and the princess who keeps telling you she knows the way.
The wolf that’ll eat you up and the king who’ll send him to do it, and the princess who’ll let him do it.”

:: 10.19.2022 ::