the Words are not enough
after so long
they still shy from my touch
same as the dust you drew into your lungs and out
and its patterns working up your calves
they mean -
i know i've heard this somewhere -
something
but not to me
i'd like to know you now
as you are - not of us
but drawing us into your lungs and out
rewarding water with wine
and dust with endless wind
where do i meet you when
you do not go or come
is this wide-eyed what-if
foolishness and faithlessness
is faith, in the end, no need to believe
but to breathe dust and be?
april 22, 2011
Neverwarm
In the city where
the insurance hoarders sing
to their headphones from the curb
where the Korean grandmothers sit pristine
in their lipstick and perms
where Phobia! is inked
into bus seats like a swear
where the days give no warning
or sign of warming.
Feb 18, 2011
the insurance hoarders sing
to their headphones from the curb
where the Korean grandmothers sit pristine
in their lipstick and perms
where Phobia! is inked
into bus seats like a swear
where the days give no warning
or sign of warming.
Feb 18, 2011
Crushed to Ash
It stays pressed between roots
it stays pressed deep in clouds
it stays in my own old shoes
and waits
for a bellyup day
for a telling face
for something, anything, to say
It stays pressed in my spine
it stays pressed into corners
it stays in my old unkempt habits
and dreams
for messenger waves
for equinox dates
for dreams to pray
a poorly lit flame
a neglected space
that but for shame
would be crushed
to ash between hands
apr 21, 2011
it stays pressed deep in clouds
it stays in my own old shoes
and waits
for a bellyup day
for a telling face
for something, anything, to say
It stays pressed in my spine
it stays pressed into corners
it stays in my old unkempt habits
and dreams
for messenger waves
for equinox dates
for dreams to pray
a poorly lit flame
a neglected space
that but for shame
would be crushed
to ash between hands
apr 21, 2011
The Dream Before the Basement
Before that
I had gone to the nation of new
where the roads which way were piles
shambled and on the rise
I never thought of my bare feet
only combed the streetside
full of steam and vendor boil
some still alive and on display for it
hawking the wrong
i ate and ate
mostly still, long still, mouthfuls
But my feet and nails shined soft
began to hamper at the wrong
began to think of a future
among it all
I dropped the dish in hand
and hurried to the cart on the threshold hill
with already clotted peasant shoes
bought a pair lined black and too hot
apr 16 2011
I had gone to the nation of new
where the roads which way were piles
shambled and on the rise
I never thought of my bare feet
only combed the streetside
full of steam and vendor boil
some still alive and on display for it
hawking the wrong
i ate and ate
mostly still, long still, mouthfuls
But my feet and nails shined soft
began to hamper at the wrong
began to think of a future
among it all
I dropped the dish in hand
and hurried to the cart on the threshold hill
with already clotted peasant shoes
bought a pair lined black and too hot
apr 16 2011
Basement
acting, of course
always a version
only it doesn't finally pull the time
inside out, like everything else in here
in a dream i went
down and down continued
as many times as I could think the word without forgetting
where i went and was
always only after
i had swung the last cage slat into a stair
when the bottom came
there was sunlight, understood
and extended family
the indoors of a childhood
but the faces, every
had been pulled inside
even new babies
every one so proud of the resemblance
and then i remembered
sunlight too late
the slats were for a cage again
i had to look into their pits
and call them faces
i had to look at the basement light
and call it understood
apr 16, 2011
always a version
only it doesn't finally pull the time
inside out, like everything else in here
in a dream i went
down and down continued
as many times as I could think the word without forgetting
where i went and was
always only after
i had swung the last cage slat into a stair
when the bottom came
there was sunlight, understood
and extended family
the indoors of a childhood
but the faces, every
had been pulled inside
even new babies
every one so proud of the resemblance
and then i remembered
sunlight too late
the slats were for a cage again
i had to look into their pits
and call them faces
i had to look at the basement light
and call it understood
apr 16, 2011
The Sand In My Shoes
i left the sand in my shoes
and my pride
in the tomb dug by lake water and sky
we would have liked to shake it by the bars
but for who might hear
and meet our eyes
fear gravity working its way
up our legs
we went to our knees
and maybe should have gone upon them
the night exhausted itself in our arms
i left room in my mouth
and the cold standing in for sentences
i left my wracked body intact
a prayer to unmeasured time
and i think that you must have
left much to say
april 14, 2011
and my pride
in the tomb dug by lake water and sky
we would have liked to shake it by the bars
but for who might hear
and meet our eyes
fear gravity working its way
up our legs
we went to our knees
and maybe should have gone upon them
the night exhausted itself in our arms
i left room in my mouth
and the cold standing in for sentences
i left my wracked body intact
a prayer to unmeasured time
and i think that you must have
left much to say
april 14, 2011
Last Lines
Every last line strikes me like an open hand
stinging the same as that first
and last time my mother slapped
me - a zero second -
a pulse that wandered from the fold.
Only as the wind oscillates
mouth to lungs does memory return
marching, warming the intentional shape
across my face.
april 11, 2011
stinging the same as that first
and last time my mother slapped
me - a zero second -
a pulse that wandered from the fold.
Only as the wind oscillates
mouth to lungs does memory return
marching, warming the intentional shape
across my face.
april 11, 2011
Into Grief
finally breath
out candle
pocked laughter
cracking in two
into grief
trying opposites
trying peace
try to piece
one tear to another
the tied sheets
slung over sills
swing relieved
of their escapee
the horror of
not breathing
shrieks down the street
away laughing away
finally free.
april 11, 2011
out candle
pocked laughter
cracking in two
into grief
trying opposites
trying peace
try to piece
one tear to another
the tied sheets
slung over sills
swing relieved
of their escapee
the horror of
not breathing
shrieks down the street
away laughing away
finally free.
april 11, 2011
To Get It Down
eating silk
letting the cups dirty
but her legs shaved
the heartbreak song
had been so inappropriate then
yet it moved
and now
it had probably been the end
all along
eating silk
all that's left
the cups season
she swallows and swallows
to get it down
her legs lie for no one
for weeks there was no hunger
and now
it had been coming to an end
all along
april 11, 2011
letting the cups dirty
but her legs shaved
the heartbreak song
had been so inappropriate then
yet it moved
and now
it had probably been the end
all along
eating silk
all that's left
the cups season
she swallows and swallows
to get it down
her legs lie for no one
for weeks there was no hunger
and now
it had been coming to an end
all along
april 11, 2011
An Arkansan
She'll be the one who stays
who watches the hem haw sky
turn an unusual blue
who upturns the tried true hedges
to stir up the scandal of dirt and underbellies
who lets her life out in the sleeptalk of children
into a local smoke
familiar above the trees
to the flaming sky -
She'll be the one there
seeing the unseen and naming it forgotten things
we scatter in lieu of travel, of inquiry and hunt
she digs and plants and burns piles
under her nose
we lose our senses
while hers grow into one another.
apr 9, 11
who watches the hem haw sky
turn an unusual blue
who upturns the tried true hedges
to stir up the scandal of dirt and underbellies
who lets her life out in the sleeptalk of children
into a local smoke
familiar above the trees
to the flaming sky -
She'll be the one there
seeing the unseen and naming it forgotten things
we scatter in lieu of travel, of inquiry and hunt
she digs and plants and burns piles
under her nose
we lose our senses
while hers grow into one another.
apr 9, 11
Lie Like a Child
I lied about tomorrow
I always do
I pack time in my palms
into stones
tell you how they skip
over taut water.
I lied about knowing Jesus
I always do
I don't know how to
fortify the water's surface
and saunter to you.
I lied like a child
I always do
I pack images together in my palms
into a house
forgetting to leave
gaps in the story, a door to get in.
I stand outside you.
apr 10, 11
I always do
I pack time in my palms
into stones
tell you how they skip
over taut water.
I lied about knowing Jesus
I always do
I don't know how to
fortify the water's surface
and saunter to you.
I lied like a child
I always do
I pack images together in my palms
into a house
forgetting to leave
gaps in the story, a door to get in.
I stand outside you.
apr 10, 11
a little will
if i don't have to love you
i'd rather not
but if i do
i will -
know that-
you won't need to ask
i've become good at
fighting hard for little ground
apr 10, 11
i'd rather not
but if i do
i will -
know that-
you won't need to ask
i've become good at
fighting hard for little ground
apr 10, 11
Undecided
We touch undecidedly
what we want
may lie just under the skin
rising or dying
or running
losing it from limbs
filling smaller courts
holding out judgement there
until we can tell
up under our tracing fingers
what it is we want
apr 10, 11
what we want
may lie just under the skin
rising or dying
or running
losing it from limbs
filling smaller courts
holding out judgement there
until we can tell
up under our tracing fingers
what it is we want
apr 10, 11
Ground Cover
There is a path in Beijing
of course there are many
but there is one worn by me
and left there
does it wave after me
or lie still
ground covered, but not recovered by me
until my shallow path is undergone
by a few days remembered but disappeared
apr 8, 11
of course there are many
but there is one worn by me
and left there
does it wave after me
or lie still
ground covered, but not recovered by me
until my shallow path is undergone
by a few days remembered but disappeared
apr 8, 11
But By Me
You know the way
and the way knows you
know nothing
you are the way
and the way
with purpose loses you
no good shepherd
except that
when you lose the way
you have found something
or if the way loses you
never by coincidence
it has led you still
somewhere
But the third and also constant
companion is Another
Their way is not your way
And,
of course, it is
"I am the way, the truth, and the life.
No one comes to the father but by me"
apr 8, 11
and the way knows you
know nothing
you are the way
and the way
with purpose loses you
no good shepherd
except that
when you lose the way
you have found something
or if the way loses you
never by coincidence
it has led you still
somewhere
But the third and also constant
companion is Another
Their way is not your way
And,
of course, it is
"I am the way, the truth, and the life.
No one comes to the father but by me"
apr 8, 11
Power Lines
How a city
can make you feel warmed
as if the torsos caked around you
are meant to be
are loved ones and familiar
the million look-away eyes
are thinking of you
and how nice it is
to hum here together
as if your songs were in tune
or the shape of the throat
they clamber up
as if the stairs and streets,
the tunnels through daylight
were worn lanes with our names
in the bark, in the pavement
and as if the city were not
just twisted lines of strangers and ghosts.
apr 7, 11
can make you feel warmed
as if the torsos caked around you
are meant to be
are loved ones and familiar
the million look-away eyes
are thinking of you
and how nice it is
to hum here together
as if your songs were in tune
or the shape of the throat
they clamber up
as if the stairs and streets,
the tunnels through daylight
were worn lanes with our names
in the bark, in the pavement
and as if the city were not
just twisted lines of strangers and ghosts.
apr 7, 11
Still No Oracle
We watch for signs
in birds of flight
and the close breath of first blooms
we listen to the winter withered vines
and the shingles' clay tide
still no oracle
she holds my hand
like a small, hurt creature
making all the future faith
worth learning
apr 8, 11
in birds of flight
and the close breath of first blooms
we listen to the winter withered vines
and the shingles' clay tide
still no oracle
she holds my hand
like a small, hurt creature
making all the future faith
worth learning
apr 8, 11
Kite Hearts
Through the night I've been
gathering the day
in your wake these crowds bizarre
their walls of not-you faces
heave their weight into the space
you're stringing me through
Just keep feeding the line
our kite hearts
have always met above such earth
mar 26, 2011
gathering the day
in your wake these crowds bizarre
their walls of not-you faces
heave their weight into the space
you're stringing me through
Just keep feeding the line
our kite hearts
have always met above such earth
mar 26, 2011
For All the Pretty Potty-Mouthed Girls
For all the pretty potty-mouthed girls
your breath smells of hope
and the powers you curse
wantonly dashing your all
again and again against
what is expected of a girl,
especially a pretty one.
To those expectations you add only
your potty-mouth
and they come humiliated to beg
at your drunken feet.
Mar 26, 11
your breath smells of hope
and the powers you curse
wantonly dashing your all
again and again against
what is expected of a girl,
especially a pretty one.
To those expectations you add only
your potty-mouth
and they come humiliated to beg
at your drunken feet.
Mar 26, 11
From the Train Platform
Sometime time will finally start
and pass me by, windows flashing teeth
and I'll do it differently than you.
But now, in an unblinking caress
time and I
lean into one another
and remember you in every idleness
what better to hold between us?
mar 26, 11
and pass me by, windows flashing teeth
and I'll do it differently than you.
But now, in an unblinking caress
time and I
lean into one another
and remember you in every idleness
what better to hold between us?
mar 26, 11
Complaint
Lungs complain of the body
clamped down on them
and shudder at the efforts
the body takes to be able to smell another
as well as sight
as well as touch
and taste
Lungs inoculated with days
and days drawn from them
they wonder
why their captors chase such days
what is so important
in the evening scent of neck
in the shape lips list love from
in the catch in a cracked word
your name whispered head to sole
the tide of one hand onto another
and the further tide that follows
Lungs do not understand
and so consider ceding
their long-suffered chore
mar 26, 11
clamped down on them
and shudder at the efforts
the body takes to be able to smell another
as well as sight
as well as touch
and taste
Lungs inoculated with days
and days drawn from them
they wonder
why their captors chase such days
what is so important
in the evening scent of neck
in the shape lips list love from
in the catch in a cracked word
your name whispered head to sole
the tide of one hand onto another
and the further tide that follows
Lungs do not understand
and so consider ceding
their long-suffered chore
mar 26, 11
Badly Dug Grave
The feeling is
all the blood from under my chest,
wide and brimming,
suddenly escaping into the past
- that is the feeling -
someone has dug a grave there
and dug it badly
not frozen and measured straight
but sloping and sinking in on itself
the sun topples in and is lost
forever warming the past.
mar 26, 11
all the blood from under my chest,
wide and brimming,
suddenly escaping into the past
- that is the feeling -
someone has dug a grave there
and dug it badly
not frozen and measured straight
but sloping and sinking in on itself
the sun topples in and is lost
forever warming the past.
mar 26, 11
Mountains of Poetry
I did not write mountains
I wrote guilt, and not enough
and begged the oranges from short trees
instead of climbing up into their eaves
and what wouldn't fall, I shot.
He reminds me to take my finger
from the trigger of my heart
to let the barrel empty in the floor
leaving room for the mystery
in season and hanging, whistling
just out of easy reach.
Mar 26, 2011
I wrote guilt, and not enough
and begged the oranges from short trees
instead of climbing up into their eaves
and what wouldn't fall, I shot.
He reminds me to take my finger
from the trigger of my heart
to let the barrel empty in the floor
leaving room for the mystery
in season and hanging, whistling
just out of easy reach.
Mar 26, 2011
On and On
Mountains on and on
filtered by dust
smoke and clouds
letters come on like poems
and music a muffle
to the cymbals of all
the crowds
the stares the stones
Time fairly flies
we snatch at it
stealing hems and leftovers
These rivers
must always be forded
there is no bridge
and crossing leaves us
soaked dark and exhausted
mar 31, 2011
filtered by dust
smoke and clouds
letters come on like poems
and music a muffle
to the cymbals of all
the crowds
the stares the stones
Time fairly flies
we snatch at it
stealing hems and leftovers
These rivers
must always be forded
there is no bridge
and crossing leaves us
soaked dark and exhausted
mar 31, 2011
Arrows
This is an East to West city
an arrow dissolving
at its point
warming the flesh of God
but grown over by it.
Somewhere somewhere
we'd like our prayers
to warm God like that
then only to be absolved.
Mar 31, 2011
an arrow dissolving
at its point
warming the flesh of God
but grown over by it.
Somewhere somewhere
we'd like our prayers
to warm God like that
then only to be absolved.
Mar 31, 2011
Proletariat Eyes
My body replaces only
dust in flight
a wearing thin page.
theirs are iron shovels
every limb
replacing a limb of resisting earth
ungiving root
pouring their dark eyes
hand over hand
into the hollow.
my paper body
sometimes rolled, sometimes bound
hides on every balcony
too far above for the earth's
new made eyes to notice
to wonder how different we are.
mar 31, 11
dust in flight
a wearing thin page.
theirs are iron shovels
every limb
replacing a limb of resisting earth
ungiving root
pouring their dark eyes
hand over hand
into the hollow.
my paper body
sometimes rolled, sometimes bound
hides on every balcony
too far above for the earth's
new made eyes to notice
to wonder how different we are.
mar 31, 11
He Was Born in Spring
Just as the sun remembered
the old paths once familiar
just as it turned to
clear them through the starry wilds again
he was born screaming
the sun heard and hurried northward
Now the winter snatches at his heels
and twists his footfalls
to swallow his plans in the time
between the stars
but he was born in Spring
and won't rest until
he meets the sun on these northpaths again
feb 13, 11
the old paths once familiar
just as it turned to
clear them through the starry wilds again
he was born screaming
the sun heard and hurried northward
Now the winter snatches at his heels
and twists his footfalls
to swallow his plans in the time
between the stars
but he was born in Spring
and won't rest until
he meets the sun on these northpaths again
feb 13, 11
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