Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category
life is fire
whether i am sound asleep
or totally wired
life feels more like going down a river
than driving down a road
with a map.
one way or another the river will take me
completely unaware of what is between now
The main thing about being alive
is, no one knows.
alligators lick the shore
near the lawn of the outdoor party
lightning bugs & cicadas & lanterns
of all colors other small lights
scattered magical all around
inhibitions drop like clothes
in a dressing room
& have one last look in the mirror––
I know nothing––
I have lived in its house for many years.
I have floated in its starless infinite liquid black ink with no compass and
no clue where I might be drifting, or if I am in motion at all.
I know nothing––
its sense of humor at unlikely times,
it’s sudden bursts of brilliance and peace,
its terors and night-sweats and lack of light that is darker then space,
darkness-beyond-darkness that takes you to the highway in the rain,
makes you want to live again,
makes you want to roll the dice with your one last gasp,
your last arbitrary wish, your last lucky penny,
roll the dice as you are falling
even if you may never see them land,
or know if they’ll come up lucky 7, or snake-eyes, or craps,
even if you know you may never know
let your shadow do the walking
little horse race
let your shadow do the talking
let your shadow take the hit
everything goes right through him
he don’t care
he so very flexible
on rocks, on water
stretched out at sunset
he always changing every which way
depending where the light is coming from…
or how many lights are on…
or, like a flash.
and when you play with him
and dance with him
and pose for pictures with him,
he don’t mind all that.
he is changeable.
he don’t pretend he’s only one person.
he don’t pretend to have so much substance.
he knows he can’t hold onto anything.
he knows he’ll disappear when the lights go out.
rain erase me and clean my face as i stare into the sky as you fall.
rain come find me and bring your clouds the sun is burning into my skull.
rain let me taste you let me drink you and become you carry me with you to the sea.
rain help me call you help me see you and dance with you , your tiny drops all over me.
rain my sweet sister , my brother , my mister , my mama , my saviour , my disaster.
rain. yes. welcome. welcome sweet rain. it has been so long. my skin needs you.
rain come again and stay a little longer and wash me away and bring me back in
from the rain.
now inside the thunder whispers of another room.
disjointed arabesque of mountainous fortitudes.
wallover sychophants like Houdini penumbra.
whichever way upside-down space is everywhere.
fire burns always since time began counting.
everyone loves a disguise when running from the law but
no one can run from the silver lined epiphany of our deliverance.
(senseless maybe? i had to look up
half the words after I’d written them to
see what they meant, or fit, or get a clue
to what I was talking about, but, I’m not
sure I did… but I’m not sure I didn’t either).
outside in the dark
morning is blooming again.
my sleep is fitful
why isn’t it friendlier––
it is so restless . . .
where does it want to be?
october mood . how many bubbles exploding on this sleepy day expanding
chilly and grey (a real october) / and the surface of things is reflection
it goes back / it goes behind / it goes forward
into unknown crevices and surprises /
sometimes like a lightbulb / it is gone all at once /
meloncholy ambulance of thought careening down a rain soaked street (in the middle of night a weary passenger in the back (on oxygen) (passed out) then fading in (then passed out))
eyelids like translucent curtains of blood (barely separating inner from outer)
behind the screen / backstage / busy people wonder how to finish the show /
the lead player fainted / in the middle of act one /
––in the audience / a jittery impatience / while thoughts of a wasted evening / (and a monetary refund) / and their own mortality invades them.
light. mosaic. pattern. neuron firing pattern. map. of thought.
repetitious nomenclature. semantics. hermeneutics. other words,
I have no idea of their meaning, except I worked in a bookstore . . .
neurons fire. and fire. sometimes the same path all day.
some find new trails. ideas. what have you. the point is. light.
chemical. electrical. synapse gap. spike potential. firing neuron.
signal moves on. down the line. then your arm moves. then you turn
your head. you see her. your chemicals change. destiny. fate. eternal
recurrence. blind chance. inevitable odds and/or biological imperative.
i don’t care.
i just meant the light. everywhere. the light from the stars. stars that blew up.
the particles circled around and found each other. got back together. again.
got dense. then denser. burst into flames. again. making more light.
those stars blew up too. that’s where the iron in our bodies comes from.
we are made of particles that got together. so they could ignite. into stars. giving light.
unimaginable heat. over millions of years. the sun. our sun. barely gets a chance
to know us. then we leave. flash in. flash out. flash bulb. neurons flashing.
guns blazing. ok. it’s amazing. amazing enough. we don’t have enough light.
to really read the situation. it’s dim. sometimes dark.
the sun says, hello. then we’re gone. and the sun says good-bye.
the sun says, come home. or. the sun says, well, little cherub,
what else you got up your sleeve?
- November 2015 (4)
- October 2015 (9)
- July 2015 (6)
- June 2015 (6)
- May 2015 (5)
- April 2015 (2)
- February 2015 (4)
- October 2014 (1)
- September 2014 (4)
- July 2014 (1)
- June 2014 (4)
- May 2014 (1)
- April 2014 (1)
- March 2014 (2)
- February 2014 (1)
- January 2014 (2)
- December 2013 (5)
- November 2013 (6)
- October 2013 (2)
- September 2013 (5)
- August 2013 (7)
- July 2013 (4)
- May 2013 (2)
- April 2013 (3)
- February 2013 (1)
- December 2012 (4)
- October 2012 (1)
- September 2011 (3)
- August 2011 (5)
- June 2011 (5)
- April 2011 (1)
- January 2011 (4)
- November 2010 (1)
- October 2010 (3)
- September 2010 (1)
- August 2010 (2)
- July 2010 (5)
- June 2010 (4)
- May 2010 (8)