When I Wax

Abandoned

2012-02-07T15:13:00.001-05:00

strange assemblage
wheels, backseats and radios
lost utility

2011-11-15T10:28:00.001-05:00

fleeting glimpses
absent, coming, going
a few moments more

2011-10-23T23:02:00.003-04:00

ball dresses falling
float into heaps on the floor
disrobing Autumn

The Spoils of Silently Watching

2011-09-29T09:49:00.000-04:00

Arising before dawn in ritual pursuit
aware of austerity, sharp, acute
a chill that has settled
and defines for a time
the spoils of silently watching.

As the hoary frost on crimson leaves
succumbs to the center,
succumbs to the sun
as ice becomes rain
and the dew is undone
and the bluest of blue
frames vivid prisms spun
of the thread of a love
fleetingly grasped
desperately held
and quickly lapsed
into seeking again
into hoping for when
that moment will lend
less furtively.

Retiring at dusk from the ritual pursuit
aware of austerity, dulled but astute
exhaustion has settled
and defines for a time
the spoils of silently watching.

The moment I said it

2011-09-02T00:41:00.001-04:00

Chasse

2011-08-22T10:21:00.004-04:00

Sleeping, sluggish, a dormant desire

is drawn from the dog days of summer-

as the front is unfolded

the summer defrocked

I return from a lazy warm slumber.

And the creak of the hasp

and the shake of the aspen

spark dreams of October fire.

And the velvet glance

and the cyclic dance

an alluring chance to conspire.

Rising, alert, an ancient urge

springs forth from a change in the weather

it will not relent

breathing deeply the scent

of the chase and the blood stained tether.

Night swimming

2011-07-27T15:31:00.002-04:00

Night swimming
and I am towing
a boat.
Night swimming
and I am pulling
a rope.
Hauling
hauling
hauling
a hope.

I am kicking
I am paddling
I lose myself in the darkness
feigning calm
for the hopes
of the passengers
on the boat.

We are far from the island
far from our shores
there are hours
and fathoms
and whole dreams
to go.

I hear them singing
hear them chanting
"we are the pirates
who don't do anything"
and I choke at the irony
and on warm weedy water
and I swim
with a rope
and a boat.

Becalmed.
She died.
Dead in the water.
I can stop swimming
by entering the boat.
But the boat is not
where the boat is to be
so is less useful
to the destination
less desirable to me.

And they're in.
And I'm out.
and they're chanting
and I shout
"an hour or so more"
as the dawn takes its form
and the skin on my feet
is blistered and worn
from fins and conveyances
to overcome forms
of the body, resistance
and I have been here for years
night swimming
with a boat
and a rope.

I'm in here

2011-07-20T10:51:00.003-04:00

2011-07-18T00:45:00.001-04:00

dry shrinking soils

clusters collapse into cracks

drought in the vineyard

2011-06-13T11:10:00.003-04:00

beguiling allure

shameless in too short summers

Moccasin flower

2011-06-04T01:54:00.001-04:00

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2011-06-01T14:57:00.003-04:00

I hear your echo.

Awaiting your next preening call

I lie motionless.

Lioness, Lioness

2011-05-27T01:41:00.006-04:00

Lioness, lioness bring all to swift right

lioness, lioness strike surely tonight.

And you

have

crumbled

acquiesced

caved in

to triage traps

let down the furling freedoms

and retreated with taps

where the trick

is to try

not to look

like a spy

or a trite

little trollop

or tramp.

And the message

is garbled

by gambit

or goad.

And the cypher

is cracked

with camp

or code.

And if only the comments

and the deft smirks and nods

could escape the shake-downs

and stamps and jihads...

Frisked, frowning, fucked by the scrutinous

followed, failed, felled by the mutinous

tickers, talkers, tellers of truth

rickety, crotchety, stealers of youth

who insist on a sin and a stain on your virtue

for writing and writhing in stills that won't hurt you

in springs and in flings and in rings like a hearse

hewn in hackneyed hickory shag verse.

Wigwam, a womb, a warm place pleading psalm

where a body lies still to be christened, embalmed...

internment I wait, and wait, for a tourniquet

reeling, risking, rollicking, riveted.

Please stop the bleeding and tell me its you

please stop the hiding and tell me what's true.

Lioness, lioness bring all to swift right

lioness, lioness strike surely tonight.

2011-05-25T11:14:00.001-04:00

yield and embrace

lilacs like love-making

intoxicating

40 & counting

2011-04-28T00:28:00.002-04:00

The chorus, the chorus
and the pregnant air
brings me back to tall places
to a promenade bare
of promise or purpose
or pretense or price
or penny royal tea
or pixies enticed
by the prospect of plucking
fireflies from ice
or possibilities of kissing
the rune-stone twice
but full, so full
of a flickering hope
that a breeze will blow
you to our elope
our elixir
the fixtures
of pagan ropes
that bind and bind
and forbids a Pope
from fashioning edicts
and obstructing the twine
from tying the unions
too long let unwind
unwound, unwooed
let slip down a slope
where the best to be done
is stack memories to grope
but we age and wither
and the time passes by
and we know, but vaguely
that the hour is nigh
for a fleeting duvet
for a last foray
for one more flicker
for the bats to obey
to the glades of our glories
to the desire of the day
yet we hide, as imprisoned
better angels at bay
and the question lingers
will we be once again
can we see once again
how to taste what has been?

Iceblink Luck

2011-04-13T14:58:00.000-04:00

2011-04-10T22:01:00.002-04:00

liquid crimson

embers emboldened by winds

leave their marks within

2011-04-05T23:34:00.002-04:00

Escaped Bowerbirds

the end of a bloodline

lost to apathy.

Fantastique

2011-03-20T23:34:00.004-04:00

Wanning gibbous

but still full of fantastique

in the face of the impossible.

under

2011-03-16T16:48:00.004-04:00

Under tall palms

in a thirsty parched place

held the last drops of light

between my fingers and my face

in the valley of the sun

a vision undone

held only once

held only once.

Under the red sandstone

I embraced the moving light

the roving gaze of God

the same as all nights

but different

moment

by moment

by moment.

Under the water

the sounds became one

the souls are shattered

to rejoin and become one

and they cry in unison

for the sun

for the sun.

And in our own sorrow

and between our own pains

we breathe in and breathe out

and breathe in once again

and hold it

like we'll hold only once.

Hold it

and hold it

we live only once.

Happy Valentines Day

2011-02-14T12:47:00.000-05:00

Successional

2011-02-11T14:01:00.002-05:00

You want light.

You want it more than most...

fight for it and spite

your consort and your host.

Increasing your fitness

while growing white and mossy,

defeat your only witness

while you become more glossy

and the moons appear and disappear

in a steady march towards mold

and we become a memory

successional, and old.

True Light

2011-02-05T14:08:00.003-05:00

True light.

What is out there is preferable-

what comes through is filtered.

Out there or in here?

Trapped.

Shells

2011-01-24T18:22:00.001-05:00

2011-01-21T11:01:00.001-05:00

Listening

a Harrier hunts for his meal

in the silence.

Losing Heather*

2011-01-10T23:58:00.012-05:00

If I knew t'would soon be raining

I would have carried an umbrella.

Had I been told about the pain

I'd never have been convinced to tell a

tale

a whispered spell

a wishful veil

a fantasy fell

from filling eyes

beyond the well-

ing up of tears

amidst the sell-

ing of the years

her flowered first

and then the bell

the toll of truth

the tick of time

of virgin youth

of virgin mine

of sweet vermouth

of sour wine

of bitter truth

of sowing seeds

amidst the pines

of taking leave

of the divine

and naivete

about the weather

is no excuse

for losing heather*.

*Heather’s scientific name, “Calluna vulgaris,” comes from the Greek “Kallune,” meaning “to clean or brush,” and the Latin “vulgaris,” meaning “common,” as heather twigs were once used for making brooms. Native to Ireland, Scotland, Scandinavia, Russia and North America, heather branches are also said to have been used to make baskets, rope, bedding, as thatch for roofs and even to flavor beer or tea. Symbolizing admiration and good luck, heather is also believed to have protective powers. The ancient Celts recognized it served as a great cleansing agent, breaking up blockages found in the body. Interestingly, brooms were most popularly made by the Celts with heather, another symbol of clearing, cleansing and manifesting purity. Perhaps these associations with purity made it a symbol of promise and good luck in the Highlands. Indeed, no Highland bride would walk in her joining (wedding) ceremony with out a bit of white heather in her bouquet or hair adornment. The custom still lingers today. What's more, not only were the Celts clever herbalists, they were also genius at mead making. Heather was a prize for meads (during a time before hops was recognized for beer making). When properly rendered, it made a heady, aromatic blend suitable for splendid nights of merry making. Here enters the symbolism of the heather dealing with romance, intoxication and attraction. Heather mead was some powerful stuff.

LESSON OF THE HEATHER - from The Wisdom of Trees by Jane Gifford

Heather is a symbol of passionate love, of sacrifice, and self-control. In the first place, heather represents enthusiasm and sensual pleasure, and the benefits that can be enjoyed from spontaneous self-expression. But within this lust for life and exhilaration lies a deeper lesson of the consequences that may arise out of unbridled passion. The Celts believed that you are always totally responsible and accountable for the outcome of your actions, so you were wise to be sure of your own true nature before totally abandoning yourself to the potent delights of heather ale and the pleasures that it could bring. Unchecked, heather is short-lived and unproductive but if burned yearly to the ground, it re-grows with fresh vigor. The lesson of the heather is that a necessary balance must exist between self-expression and self-control for both to be enjoyable and effective.

2011-01-04T12:43:00.002-05:00

always will it be

the universe entire

between you and me

Xmas

2010-12-15T00:24:00.003-05:00

Approaching the darkest
night of the year
with blood under nails
and unkempt hair
and a thirst
for rare-
ified
air
and a dare
if I'd
taken
the shot
if I'd
taken her
spot
I'd be waking
and not
in this dream
where the prick
of the point
of a flickering
flake of snow
guillotine
or a bow
and a blade
and the broad-head
has done
all it could
call it good
call it game
walnut wood
where you hang
on your cross
from your vows
with your dross
and your dream
of a Wonderful Life
as a wife
as the Bride
of a Christ
that forgives
and lives twice
and then sieves
it suffices
to bleed
just a little
to rinse
in the riddle
of a rite
where the
night
might be bright
for the duramen
for a darker
knight.

A Breath of Wind- 風の息

2010-10-30T07:21:00.009-04:00

A breath of wind
a timeless conversation
an answered prayer.

風の息
時代を超越した会話
と答えたの祈り

A Prayer

2010-10-26T04:21:00.003-04:00

The fragility

of humanity

amazes me

when I fell into your skin

the world forever changed

and I am destroyer

a new Arch Angel

of Death

when I fell into your skin

a pulse of your mind

created eternal echoes

of an ocean

of last breaths.

Rules

2010-10-21T11:41:00.005-04:00

A conversation avoided

a tale of two cities

of two citizens

of a brave new world.

Two lives

two flags

two sexes

two bags

filled with layers

and rings and burl.

Stuck in a moment

in the fog of a war

between modernity

and the urge to mate

is a space that is constant

in dimension or distance

but not in constancy

connubiality

or fate.

A frozen curtsey

a stilted salute

and intimacy

is vacuous

and vacant.

While we play by the rules

Eros arrows the fools

who are coy, constrained

or complacent.

color

2010-10-11T09:36:00.002-04:00

Prize

2010-09-23T00:07:00.002-04:00

I'm still writing somewhere

I'm still writing someone

still writing a history, a mystery a myth.

Still in the ring

still in the round

still just a foil, a fool, a fist.

Will there be roses?

Or still only ruses

or a medal that rusts away?

Are you still writing somewhere

still writing someone

or is art in waning decay?

2010-08-22T00:11:00.001-04:00

restoring the yoke

neglected honeymoon vessel

night paddling

2010-08-17T21:02:00.001-04:00

August reunion

wet with anticipation

and heavy dew

of banshees and bruins

2010-08-03T15:43:00.003-04:00

A ravenous quiet

a mossy fallen birch

exploded by insatiable hunger.

Deep furrows

in maple and pine

and grassy beds

in berries and vines

in the bedroom

of banshees and bruins.

west

2010-07-07T11:00:00.003-04:00

west

from whence this dry wind blows

west

from whence this creek once flowed

west

from whence I rucked up and rode

to find an unfettered future

at reverie

they looked at me

and said we smell retreat

I looked back at them

worn and grim

confused by the specter

of defeat

I drifted off

to nodding prairies

and cottonwood islands

and sanctuaries

and felt the breeze

while fingering bars

the cool of metal

on starchy collars

the innocent days

are damn near over

and the novelty

of four leaf clovers

lost in the haze of

the same old place

and the inevitable

same tomorrow

west

to ride there now

and find a Henslow's sparrow

west

they're coming now

to taste our metal and marrow.

2010-07-01T12:59:00.001-04:00

"when it rains it pours"

monsoon melancholy

weeping foundations

Black Pond Dusk-- Warrior Song

2010-06-03T07:57:00.001-04:00

New Orleans Night Life

2010-05-03T22:33:00.001-04:00

night lights-smelting at Toughannock Creek

2010-04-27T08:36:00.002-04:00

aiki I

2010-04-18T15:22:00.001-04:00

the forest blushes twice

first in muted shades of birth

spring- green- entering-water-rising

and the violent hues of death

autumn- crimson- leaving-fire-falling

aiki

humility

inevitable and irresistible

power

2010-04-11T13:03:00.001-04:00

misty meadow

motives shrouded in memories

still mourning

Sashimi

2010-03-22T20:28:00.002-04:00

fresh, sashimi flesh

orange roe on the banks

spring flows and new moss

Brook trout

2010-03-20T11:20:00.001-04:00

vernal fatale

2010-03-03T00:11:00.005-05:00

Breathe your breath of desire on me

and fan the flames of creativity

as the snow melts and the crocus stir

after long and languid sleep.

Let the buds swell

and the sap run

let the freshet flow

under an engorged sun

and give rise to may pool music.

Let me savor scents of awakened must

and feel on my face the moistened dust

as the vernal mother rolls and swells

and takes me deep inside.

Ice out,

the waters rise

ebbing and flowing

to you,

to you.

Flooded out,

the drifts and bergs

must finally

bid

adieu.

Sunset in Port-au-Prince

2010-02-17T21:05:00.003-05:00

chips of gnashing teeth

shattered china and single shoes

sunset in Port-au-Prince

Fish Eye

2010-01-28T14:30:00.000-05:00

Party Favors

2010-01-26T22:22:00.000-05:00

vow sabbatical
going rogue and randy
her costume party

carnival alibis
periodic mardi gras
banked dispensations

alternate ID
consequences discarded
party favors

janitorial
amelioration
the hangover

Bullets and Butterflies

2010-01-12T19:29:00.008-05:00

Will you see the heart in crimson and its torn and shattered edge
or recite the rosary piously and pray and blindly pledge
to expunge your soul, just one less species
of the flutter by butterflies that make you go to pieces
of the pretty ones with active tongues always probing for your nectar
finding ways to make you pay an homage to the scepter
stamen or stigma is the prisoner of war
the sentence, and the words that mean more than a butterfly whore
who is fickle in her feeding and deigns a future tryst
velvet gloved and fingers reaching in the shape of frenzied fist
feigning love in a bullet's jacket and the powder is desire
and the wings of jet black swallowtail never fail to inspire
a response, a retort, a secret blush and stroking
and a stoking of a fire that is starved for air and choking
on a premise, on a promise that a law will break tonight
and a feeling, infatuation, on the hook of a brand new height
for monarchs, migration, and drunk on monarchy
and on milkweed, and thistle, and Pennyroyal tea.

Halfway Home

2010-01-10T16:50:00.000-05:00

LYRICS
The lazy way they turned your head
Into a rest stop for the dead
And did it all in gold and blue and grey

The efforts to allay your dread,
In spite of all you knew and said,
Were hard to see and harder still to say

A comfort plush all laced in lead
Was sent to quell your sentiment
And keep your trembling sentinel hand at bay

And when a sudden silhouette
Escaped the top-side of your bed
I knew you'd never ever be the same

Is it not me?
Am I not folded by your touch?
The words you spoke
I know too much
It's over now
And not enough

Is it not me?
The damage you hold inside your blush?
The load you towed
You showed it up
It's over now
And I'm insane

Wild spirits winds from out your chest
Collides with world and wilderness
It needs a gentle hand to call it home

Now surfs the sun and scales the moon
And winds the waistband of her womb
All eyes ablaze the day you break your mold

Is it not me?
Am I not culled into your clutch?
The words you spoke
I know too much
We're closer now
And said enough

Is it not me?
Am I not rolled into your crush?
The road you choose
Unloads control
See it take me so

Go on throw this stone
Into this halfway home.

Ouroboros

2010-01-05T13:22:00.002-05:00

Ouroboros
again
and again
and again
like budding
like addiction
like nature
like the scorpion and the frog
beginning in
or persisting from
the beginning.
Inextinguishable.

Why does the sun burn with a forever flame,
a nuclear furnace with sole focus?
Because it must, and so it does.
Whether gracing us with a sunbeam
or incinerating our flesh
it is.

To be is the end.
To be Eve.

Confetti Reruns

2010-01-03T19:23:00.003-05:00

confetti reruns
trite rites of passage and penance
Happy New Year

forty days and nights
lenten fervor again and again
her flagellation

a knowledge of thirst
satiation prerequisite
hunger before blood

the ball will drop
and with it all inhibitions
we all fall down

Event Horizon

2009-12-14T21:25:00.005-05:00

My neighbor was a cemetery
in the trench-coat days of youth
when a candle and a sad song
were the symbols of love and truth.

I pondered love and truth
on the work of moles and voles
in the clutches of Virginia Creeper
in a commune of quiet souls.

A voyeur among quiet souls
a slave in royal quarters
a stone where I seemed to linger
two hearts entwined and mortared.

Two souls entwined and mortared
two hearts that beat as one
two names now all forgotten
two lovers a black hole sun.

The weight of a black hole sun
the lightness of youth and love
an infinite celestial waltz
between Boreas and the dove.

2009-12-09T08:16:00.002-05:00

black pearls in the snow
desolate, windswept,empty field
gutshot

Cruel Confections (Philadelphia)

2009-12-05T16:29:00.003-05:00

They are pelting me
these snowflakes flying
in the streets of Philadelphia.

Somewhere between now and then
they crash into me
blinding me
bruising my skin
with a promise.

Cruel confections
and crystal gowns
splintering
flogging the profligate wanderer;
blowing in from the south
from the sea
meeting the chill
between you
and me
the rain
slushes
the veins
and foretells
the killing
killing
winter.

Somewhere between here and there
where its raining hard
I will see you
thinly veiled
as a promise.

They are pelting me
these snowflakes flying
in the streets of Philadelphia.

Tiger

2009-12-03T08:37:00.003-05:00

Tiger, Tiger burning bright.
How far we will fall
in the heat of the night.

A shiny apple hanging low
to have and to hold
and to the depths we'll go

to taste
to tempt
to tease release
to tarry
in stasis
to cease
to cease
to savor
the succulence
of ripest fruit
to feel
to fathom
the deepest roots
in rhizomia
the utopia
of flesh
and favor
and flowing
frenzied
fissures.

Tiger, Tiger burning bright!
A shooting star
that dims tonight.

A supernova, outshine the light
a sublime explosion
our rare midnight.

Soma

2009-11-22T19:06:00.001-05:00

the littlest things
distract
from the biggest things
so often
so every
thing
so
nothing
so much
so merry
so malaise
Soma
so much
so much
so much

Tall Chair

2009-11-14T09:31:00.005-05:00

Sitting in my tall chair
listening for the footfalls
in the damp floor
below me, around me,
over me-
my room is green.

Rising from my tall chair
anticipating a felling
and a feast-
feeling, felling, falling-
my room is yellow.

Drawing deeply into the limbs
willing the blades to motion
to the heart-
brightly fallen,
crimson fallen
my room is red.

Descending from my tall chair
antlers on the altar,
and a prayer
and the incense
of the Earth
of her ever-warring children
and my room is brown.

Kneeling beneath my chair
green and yellow
and red and brown
in my heart
on my hands
we are light
and my room is white.

All Hallows Even

2009-10-31T23:48:00.000-04:00

Holy Roller

2009-10-27T19:01:00.007-04:00

Zantedeschia

2009-10-16T19:51:00.005-04:00

torso

2009-09-25T23:49:00.003-04:00

Shed

2009-09-22T20:49:00.004-04:00

She
shed like snake skin
or cicada shells
or night crawler castings
subtle leavings
in midnight grass
and the dew
and the drunk
of summer
of lovers
she

shed like antlers
like a gecko tail
dropped in a dalliance
with danger
that writhes in a charade
of autonomy
and a dilettante's
dance with destiny.

orb weaver lullaby

2009-09-15T21:43:00.003-04:00

The Cure - Lullaby Lyrics @ LyricsTime.com

2009-09-11T08:49:00.004-04:00

one more bluebird day
invalid spectator blues
September eleventh

The Pier at Sunset in Key West (Rollin')

2009-09-06T07:43:00.001-04:00

Chestnut Camille
freaks on the pier
and a shriveled up lime from Margaritaville...

Rollin'

Like a sunset escape artist
turning blue and spitting
while behind him bobs a big white boat...

Rollin'

Three stories high
where seagulls fly
stalled where the lifeboats swing-

Leans a man, and his lei, and his wide brimmed hat
looking down at all that mud...

Rollin'

Originally appears in a 1998 edition of the HazMat Literary Review

An Ending

2009-09-02T23:40:00.004-04:00

Amusing
am using
a muse ingress
egress
distressed mistress
or damsel
doomed by
deletion.

Noblesse oblige
no beso
oh blight
obliterated
in one blow
in one cruel
contrite
night.

Assuaged
aborted
a choice
a churl
a gown
a girl
aghast
at the depth
of her lust.

Tidal
flotsam
where he
caught them
in words
and in wenching
and in dust.

2009-08-22T01:40:00.003-04:00

like rhinoceros
angry and too shortsighted
admired from afar

Spine 1 & 2- Lest we forget how fragile we are

2009-08-17T13:15:00.011-04:00

Recently, my life partner was thrown from a horse she was working with. She broke her back- I found her in the pasture, crumpled, face down and not moving. She has struggled back from that lowest point miraculously and will walk again, will do all again.

My thoughts have been infiltrated with the weeks of Doctor chatter about spinal injury, paralysis, trauma, and titanium. The imagery below is a manifestation of this infiltration. The blue vertebrae is "L1'- the one that was shattered. Titanium rods were installed with screws in T12 and T11 as well as L2 and L3.

As I thought about this piece (watercolor and ink) I remembered that a spine-like image had appeared in my mind's eye once before, long ago. I dug out that drawing, created in 1994. I caught my breath upon closer inspection... the metal plate in the drawing was at L1.

Whether an early premonition or an eerie coincidence, the imagery has become deeply significant, as have recent events and the miracles that have steadily followed them.

Agate Hunting

2009-07-31T10:58:00.005-04:00

solo beach-combing
our loves spread out before us
agate hunting

diminished by waves
precious gems ground down, down, down
rock, stone, to pebble

Night Tiger Redux

2009-07-23T05:51:00.000-04:00

Night Tiger

2009-07-21T12:22:00.003-04:00

seeing

2009-07-17T09:22:00.003-04:00

I see that the soil is compacted
while barn swallows
tailing the bush hog
exploit my labor for lunch.

I see that the seed won’t take
that the pressing
pressing
pressing
has turned my field to stone.

I see that the steed won’t stand-
green broke, needing a bit.
Eating my hay,
in an ungrateful way
resisting
resisting
a role.

The old floors they creak and groan
harmonizing with bull frogs and fox.
The dew, she’s falling.
Our carriage, stalling,
in the cave of a hot summer night.

The screen door slams with a bang
and a poem floats with the moths.
What’s forgotten can be found,
what's broken can be bound,
but not without light
on the break.

2009-07-03T03:03:00.000-04:00

late June fireflies
many a fox is hunting
midnight shrieks and moans

Sherpa

2009-07-01T00:28:00.000-04:00

Your totem
your talisman.
Around your neck a pendant
an assistant
to your ascent.
I felt your chest heave
your breath come short
your heart race
your mouth go dry
as you summited
as you reached the rarefied air
of your accomplishment
your stimulus
your actualization image
your climax
your Sherpa
left now
on the ledge.

2009-06-30T00:14:00.000-04:00

This "stop you in your tracks" quote was nested in a comment on the Old Mossy Moon blog, written by a fellow Detroiter.

"There has to be someone left to reflect that childhood is still owed dreams born on the breath of angels."

From The Walking Man

2009-06-29T11:14:00.006-04:00

As the dust is dampened
captured by the dew.
As the birch and sweet grass burns
along with you-
I will spit into the flame.
I'll never be the same.
And I will not leave the fire
until its through.

"With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man's past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame."
George Eliot
Middlemarch

2009-06-25T11:16:00.002-04:00

2009-06-18T00:07:00.001-04:00

stump smoldering still
long after the forest fire
anniversary

it is only our vanity bleeding

2009-06-08T14:46:00.003-04:00

"Happiness comes more from loving than being loved; and often when our affection seems wounded it is only our vanity bleeding. To love, and to be hurt often, and to love again--this is the brave and happy life."

~ J. E. Buckrose [Annie Edith Jameson] (1868-1931),writer

Manse

2009-06-03T00:00:00.001-04:00

Born in a house of glass
I.C.U. for an entire childhood
as ushers and vestrymen
monitored
the babies.

Cool walls, first props for first steps
smudged with the grease of growth-
later, tapped upon curiously
then pounded upon furiously
as adolescence settled in.
Looking out.
Seeing in.

They would not be satisfied.
The monitors.
We would not be Gods
or God’s children
or even angels.
But neither would we hang
from someone else's cross
for someone else’s guilt.

And we left the glass manse
by the back door.
Escapees.
Defectors.
Exiles.
Refugees.
But I still have the key
to remind me
of failing to be
PK
or PC.

2009-06-01T23:20:00.001-04:00

2009-05-30T00:11:00.003-04:00

what might have been lost
oh, that which is lost
what it all might have cost
what it's already cost
is nothing
was nothing
is every thing
every
no
thing.

She-pirates?

2009-05-23T06:59:00.004-04:00

I was amused to see these and many other paintings of she-pirates on display at Surrey's in New Orleans, on Magazine St.

Fly High Jolly Roger!

Voyageur

2009-05-12T08:33:00.005-04:00

To set forth in the mist
on glass reflections
of a world that never was
shimmering, beckoning
a siren call.

To paddle out further
then the old man says is safe
and tempt her
Gitchee Gumee
with the bait of another wraith.

A daredevil, red and white
a treble hook in the depths
wedged into igneous
a rusted reminder
of trolling with impunity.

My paddle dipping deeper
in starlit Superior
j-stroke swirling eddy
truth and truest north
the last voyageur.

Jolly Roger

2009-05-07T13:36:00.003-04:00

Ride
high
Jolly Roger.
Let us fly to the ends once again.
Our parchment was forged-
let us loosen the scourge
and hurl the full force of our men.

Fly
fly
Jolly Roger.
The treasure is lost in the deep.
With swords, a rout-
we’ll hang, no doubt
with none but our whores to weep.

Fie
fie
Jolly Roger!
Why smile in the face of death?
We chose this road
put our marks on the code
to make mayhem until our last breath.

This
is goodbye
Jolly Roger.
A time we all knew would come.
Our powder is wet.
They’re flying fleurettes.
Outnumbered outlaws, outgunned.

Die
die
Jolly Roger
We’ll see you in depths of glory.
No yield or surrender
this fight they’ll remember
and this fire is all that is holy.

2009-05-05T00:27:00.000-04:00

Did you love me?
Do you love me?
Will you love me?
The questions of the ever-child.

Did you want me?
Do you want me?
Will you want me?
Eros, in retort, reconciled.

If you could-
If there was no should-
Does that mean you would?
…To be existentially beguiled.

A masquerade
Scheherazade
willingly flayed
standing mute at this our trial.

Oxbow

2009-05-02T12:54:00.002-04:00

An absence of temperate
seasonality
back and forth between guilt
and liberty
want and should
gin and tonic
in monsoon country.

The river ran red
brown
full
fast
furious
and we didn’t want it…

Now it is dry
mud caked and cracked
stagnant in emptiness
and depletion
and the children stand
with their toes in the mud
in the middle of a channel-
an oxbow stranded
by dwindling currents
holding only fevers.

2009-04-27T22:15:00.002-04:00

sleek silken tethers
anticipating berries
vineyards are furrowed

Burst (Spring et al)

2009-04-26T12:22:00.000-04:00

2009-04-24T10:15:00.000-04:00

emancipation
your liquid prosperity
intoxication

Love Songs

2009-04-21T23:27:00.004-04:00

blackened the swan
I blackened the swan
I blackened the swan
my swan
is gone.

murdered the fawn
I murdered the fawn
I murdered the fawn
'twas wrong
so wrong.

a queen with a pawn
a king eats the spawn
a knight dies at dawn
love songs
love songs.

2009-04-14T22:53:00.006-04:00

windmill tethered
brooding as the south wind howls
abandoned farm

barn roof weathered
concessions to driving rain
spoiled hay and straw

pigeon feathers
outpost's final occupants
winter a month too long

2009-04-12T23:39:00.002-04:00

Ishmael's final waves
in fleeting hurricane's eye
pirates died today

2009-04-07T17:30:00.004-04:00

snow snakes in April
chase peepers' slush puddle songs
birth of northern Spring

distance in nearness
an invisible captor
moth in a jam jar

Pink on Frenchmen Street

2009-04-06T09:50:00.002-04:00

Shards of Blue

2009-03-24T18:28:00.003-04:00

children peer in nests
observe treasures
blue notes
an ecstasy of anticipation
emergence
an appearance
a mystery arrives
a hatching to ensue...

fertility in eggs

vanished
a hasty vernal exit
an empty bowl of sticks
remnant feathers
an abandoned pillow
distressed
ruddy breast
cracked
shards of blue
an end before a beginning
a falling before Spring
a death before birth
when you left.

Cellared

2009-03-18T13:39:00.003-04:00

Dusted off the claret
a vintage from another time
held her in my hands and stared
imagining her taste and rhyme...

The label still bright and vivid
the shape of the bottle fine
the fill, the neck, the lace like foil
all spoke of nectar divine.

But that wine required returning
to the rack from whence it came
to pass more years of ripening
and so nearly drunk remain.

The feast postponed indefinitely
the concubine on hold
venal thirsts and hungers cellared
to await a nobler mold.

Storm-tossed Heathen

2009-03-10T12:10:00.002-04:00