the door is nothing,
the latch a make-believer;
fear is a cold gh...
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
primul fiu, luna mea
the best thing, really,
is to live in someone else's
hours,
which is often quite easy
for this man to do when
it comes to his children.
i tinker with their
clocks a bit,
play in their minutes
like some threshing
child too bored to
remain inside.
it snowed today here,
son, and the schools
canceled their classes
and i lay inside of
a kind of warm imposture,
thinking...
Saturday, November 30, 2019
how to make basic homemade love
in a large bowl, dissolve yeast and
1/2 teaspoon sugar in warm water; let
stand until bubbles form on surface.
infinite dreams begin in a
transparent solitude of diffused
light and agile essence, so
begin with your eyes closed
and pray to aphrodite in her
suckling sweet-wander.
whisk together remaining 3
tablespoons sugar, salt, and 3 cups flour.
stir oil into yeast...
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
inclination
is it what's hiddenor upon the surfaceof life where myeyes are deceived?all the damagedcollateral lives insidethe vaults of exaltedmemoryand that longwhip that strikeswith the wet tonguelashes the flesh. ever at theready, i see thingsin echoes, dormantseeds, Gothic light. i have put thingsin places, or i havenot, but together they float incolonies...
Friday, November 1, 2019
Saturday, October 26, 2019
fallen
she the dispossessed,
having dropped from her green perch,
is the way of life.
a long walk alone
finds me mulling her new state
in a chancy world:
a fruit of some tree,
cloying as the grace of eve,
is among new friends.
everything falls here;
faith, love, hope, time, are all braced
for good of the Truth.
i am the apple,
the searching leaf, the pine bough,
the draining...
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
red dust
i.
i love the pockets-full
of red dust
that you are:
a collector's
worth of archaeological
meteor-shower atoms.
that through my fingers
i might sift you
for a thousand years,
feeling the soft-soft
sigh of your breath
on my closed eyes.
ii.
you are of the uncommon
fires found in the
outest backs of the
wilderness of common men.
there, in the distance,
the shape of...
Saturday, October 12, 2019
Saturday, October 5, 2019
frost on the tire
something comes from nothing
and the morning sprites, how
they light upon life with the
aplomb of kings to their thrones.
a child's bike laid on its side,
and within morning's reaches,
recumbent and receiving
her blessings of life-loss.
something comes from something
and the child who left the
bike upon the grass is asleep,
dreaming of something blue or green.
i have...
Monday, September 30, 2019
leaf and her form
i have no poetry
for the echo of
the real, the form
of it and itself.
what can be loveif not a leaf, but also the shadow
of the leaf that was found
beside herself one day?this fallen thingthat came to resthere and placed her essence
nearby, thus leaving her
slightly removed.
that love in her variousnatures is the thing sensed
- by smell or touch or sound
or taste or seen...
Saturday, September 21, 2019
delightful
remove yourselves, friends;
take yourselves out of the hall and
pack up the remnants of the day
in the echoing wake of all those condolences.
bind the bouquets with the bunting
of all your will, pocket them
as you leave through the door
and place them somewhere at home.
discard the starched shirts and the
pleated dresses; hamper the clothes
worn in the mists of sorrow...
Wednesday, September 11, 2019
come: happiness to her
come: laughter
and warmth
and peace
and serenity
depth
and calm
(to hug)
come: family
and kids
...
Sunday, September 1, 2019
still thinking
she said:
colorful, adventurous!
and:
abandoned, forgotten!
and:
waiting....
then she went quiet as clouds
before:
still thinking...
i would play with my toys
the same manner in which thunder
storms played with the fears of
dogs.
nothing escaped my
incessant desire to see what
could be turned...
Saturday, August 24, 2019
light through a window
his smile was a type of
camera, and we talked about
the girls in the halls,
and we had scarlet
conversations about how
glazed everyone else was
and how they were the dead
straw of life and how Karen
Carpenter knew how to
make us feel exalted.
we stole books from the
book fair and he became ripe
with guilt and burned them
in a small pile behind his
house to hide the...
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
lifted
do you remember,
she danced in our dreams?
- and how the questions were all
ominous, like first-of-night
touching the landscape?
do you remember,
everything was so badly described?
- and how the shallow valley of
old winds just wouldn't
cease to vex us?
do you remember,
naked flowers under a bruised moon?
- and how acrobatic fate was all we
had to clutch in those moments
of...
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
i'm not certain in which room
well -
i'm not certain in which room
He thought you'd ought reside,
since -
square is round as square can be
when all you do is hide
from -
all His hurried days that race
across your pebbled street,
since -
blades of grass ignore the touch
when faced with His retreat
toward -
lightness chalked by blackish coal
that's dug with bitter hands
which -
bleed upon His...
Monday, August 5, 2019
stonecipher
you crack me open and
the split receives your
relentless flow;
you jest - your wit is
wicked - and you release
great waves of silly.
if i were to remake you in some other art form what would you be?
what i have now is poetry, that dance of watery concessions to language.
i would draw you, then, with crayons made of blood-wax, blindfolded;
pin it on a surface, drink...
Sunday, August 4, 2019
she comes to terms
she had no agency,
and she never spoke.
impoverished, wandering, cool-eyed,
intricate fabric of hand-spun hopes.
there was once a riot of beautiful
people on her small stage, a cult
of the tired who danced between
great oaks of the living and the dead.
with bright thoughts on all harbors,
she was one of them to be sure,
but an old wind wound up and
carried her into an...
Sunday, July 21, 2019
play out
i was on the other side,
i was blind and silent as numbers.
i was an instrument of parachuting clouds,
i was a fugitive and an oath to the moon.
i was sown into the plaited earth,
i was boys running and assailing open fields.
i have sons whose purity heaved
with the wildness of the forest,
and who listened to the great
overtures of the Mother when she sang.
sons...
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
she doesn't like the rain through the window
she doesn't like the rain
through the window,
and a kiss is a prayer.
she doesn't like the reeling
gravity of a destroyed
passion either.
but she loves like a
whirling Eros,
and her hands are growling.
(this is a woman
who abandons the sea
for the beach rose after all.)
she says people are good
because they are and
they want to be,
but she doesn't like the...
Saturday, July 13, 2019
unglassed
i'd like to think they put
them here, in some
half-insouciant effort to be found
by a lover
who takes them,
in a fit of passion,
the way that happily-
ever-after tied things up
nicely for you-know-who.
the world has never worked that
way, really. it's filled
with the dead ends of
guilt and the traffic stops
of never-ending untidy
shame in which so many
of my friends have...
Saturday, July 6, 2019
all the bells that ring
all the bells that ring
above the confounding swirl
of this meager life
are made from the dust
of the innocent heart-core
of the premiere stars.
children, beholden
to which life they illumine,
- before their great course -
are cast in this stock
by the hands of some divine
intervener force,
and then released down
onto the unsuspecting...
Thursday, May 2, 2019
a remaining snow in a spring wood
a remaining snow in a spring wood
finds me delirious in my
search for something real;
that i might roll into the
day anew, so very long-bereft of the sun.
however, this is not the
melancholia of some departed
faith, but an inward cheer for renewal
of my passion's passion and
a prayer to psychic rebellion.
the transient history that
became engraved into
legend on my...
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
what giving creature is this
what giving creature is this
who came singing down,
who minds this soul and
craves the greenery of love?
that i am affixed to her
spot in the ethos of
unbridled compassion
and driven wants;
that i am awash in
her wake of relevant
fables and broad,
gleaming fantasies;
that i am enshrouded
by her enthusiasms
for joy and for relief
from the afflictions of truth;
that i...
Thursday, March 7, 2019
my lover has said that she needs magic
my lover has said that she needs magic
from the supernaturally quiet
calm that comes with a type of kiss,
something like a whispered song.
and from my imperfect consideration,
after diving deeply into its
meaning, i have met with some terms,
thinking:
her meaning is like the texture of the perfect
day in which all the
benevolence of Mother is received...
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
mere touch
what else could you say
about me? she asked.
how many words exist? said i.
i lament that we live
in a world in which lovers
believe they're not worthy
of the inexhaustible words
of their poets, who always
have something to confess.
it's as though she asked me,
how many different ways
could...
Sunday, February 24, 2019
my mother has escaped love
my mother has escaped love.
which is to say,
she and my father turn
60 years old in june
as a married couple,
so she understands
that love is no mere enthusiasm;
no chased thing,
no source of youth,
no misting degrees of want,
no harbor pursued,
no turned-up sun,
no significant fortune,
no public poetry.
we've all blasted it to
pieces,...
Monday, February 18, 2019
Thursday, February 14, 2019
struck, then new
i was struck by the girl whose
visage and whose posture and
whose offered smells were
so violent and so severe
that i forgot everything
about how to behave.
(behave! that terrible
and vexing word that
rinsed from my pores
the real dirt of Truth
and left me so much
dead in youth!)
i was at once, in her
presence, sent back to the
nocturnal leaves of autumn,
to the merciless stations of
deep spring, to the sharp
silver patter of summer rains.
true...
