Posted on 11/24/2003 9:52:48 AM PST by January24th
since you
the bookself
makes its text
from titles
sorted side to side
and interprets each
whispered hope in gilt
and leather binding the
the passion of lovers
stories to the accident
of casual arrangment
reading each into
the other a significance
beyond the lines laid by
a casual
arrangement
reading into each other
the significance
of memories laid
beyond the lines
of rebuke
and restitution
hurricanes
are usually
measured
in millibars
blotting
the stars
that brought us
together
but i
remember
my cat
conceived
a comment
concerning
too much rain
and too few
frogs
arts filter
the soul's
essential
pain
rainout
Out of their element
cats regard offerings
at the periodic table
replenished from the
master’s can,
a reliable goo
whose appearance
is merely their just due
and as failure proof
as faith in a world that swirls
around their requirements
balanced with appropriate
plagues when they choose
to summon frogs, and banish
horizontal rains
promise
Dark mysteries
that seek and surge
into the cracks of rock
and earth
and root against
the reluctant breast
that holds its secrets
of water, and nutrients
safely locked away from air
and sun but send the
forage faithfully
upward to the light
and a bloom
it will never see.
Restitution
Rebuking the summer
autumn brought its lesson
in gold, red, gentian
and gentle recession
just for a moment to rest
upon the broken grass
where we had laid down
a moment and raised up
a shield against the winter’s
defective victory
for there it made no difference
tho everything was changed.
The power doesn’t fail gradually.
your edgy blues waded
into the conversion
of my late light’s scarlet
flare into dusk
and manifested
the difference
between us
even as
we became one
shadow.
poured and cast,
in the moment of definition
we were shaped by
the considerations
of our own discrete realities
and advancing perplexities,
tho the borders
between our
lost opportunities,
were softened
we shared them until dark.
dan the newsman
swallows himself whole
we're from the internet
and we're here to help you,
your self licking
ice cream cone's
melting in the heat,
faster dan, before
it gets
all over
everyone.
Yuk, yuk, yuk. It's a good time to be alive.
ice melts
and cats
react
unafraid
of showing
fear
afflicted
by twilight
she might
share
9/11
We were
heartbroken
bereft
numb
numberless
from sea to shining tears
we jumped
fell
succumbed to grief
...but not to fear
resigned to resist
resolved to hope
we clawed our way
out of the gray
embraced the Light of Good--
we recognized evil
and decided it wasn't in
the imperfect attempt
to pursue a Dream,
but in the pernicious perversion
of the Holy
it has ever been thus
that some return to the gray...
preferring the sonambulance of nuance,
and the pathetic peace of posturing
to the inescapable, uncomfortable Light.
You knock my socks off!!! pun intended. The language you speak is instantly clear, yet indefinable or is it indescribable?
I fled the chaos to seek peace. Here it is.
Joy reigns
Fall 2001
Early October brought
the scent of scorched
something as it always does
and it lingered, the ash fall
the blue of smoke
autumn, and dust,
And gold fired the light
as usual, and
faded slowly over
the pictures pinned,
with loving words,
and benedictions sent to
the fallen,
the unreturned.
In the restaurants
where everything
was abandoned
in the moment of panic,
warming pans
of desiccated
entrees unserved
recorded the time
that time stopped and
the plants that waited
for water that never came,
browned against
the unsustainable fiction that
life would resume shortly.
And everything eventually
fell into the rumble of trucks
removing the debris
tho the dust shed
its cover over
the nakedness of our loss,
we shook it off and remembered
and remember.
unashamed, reclaimed,
we kneel and then rise…..
Apologia
I think every poet
should assume that
those to whom we speak
know more than what
we can tell them,
and that all
our presumptions
simply mean
we can offer only
our own invitation
and hope
for an rsvp.
Rara avis
that I am unsure
exists except
for the momentary
impression of wing
shadow , breeze
and the beat of
silence
that imparts sleep
without dreams
and awaking
to the sensation
of rustled leaves.
I should sing
of the fresher air
and brown leaves
that grace my porch
...of the rarefied
exultation of my
soon-arriving Mistress;
she, of the warm colors
and chilly evenings.
But, I am unwilling
to leave Summer,
cruel though she has been;
uncaring,
fickle as her hurricanes
heartless as her heat.
Let her burn me yet,
brand my skin with her furious light
and make me suffer
for my assumptions.
Autumn will forgive me,
and soothe my penitent heart
with crystaline nights
and promises of delights.
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