Tag Archives: poetry

Walk at Dawn

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the sky is still blue
the sky is still and blue
the sun only hints at being a part of this like we are a part of this
in this middle of it all
this field
where this field and the makeshift pavement meet like an indecision
bits of one strata dissolving into another
the normally tall golden stalks of grass
erect and proud, now weighed down
with the seriousness of the night before
fleeting
the cool and damp
the incremental impact
the slight change in the atmosphere
as if from positive to negative
and back again

we join hands
one of us shivers
the difference is imperceptible
neither of us speak
as we step in unison
forward
the sky is lighter though not bright
the birds have taken notice and the edges of the field start to come alive
the grasses, their heads full of seeds, crane slightly as the defining forces stoically imply their will
almost with each step there are changes taking place
where our feet meet the ground
where the wet of the grass, on careful occasion, meets with our flesh in dewey transference
a diamond exchange
an offer glistening
pausing, glistening, dropping to the ground

up the hill
around the corner
in amongst the cattle that come into focus as the day makes its way
there is less blue now
more bright
the balance is tipping
the winds are rising ever so slightly
the mist gives way to a clarity upon which we both remark
it feels good
less alone
more engaging
the individual parts, as we make our way along a ridgeline trail, integrate
root, rot, branch, the slight trickle of a spring bubbling up out the earth’s surface
one grip tightens, the other responds
eyes meet, hearts skip a beat
down the hill we go

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and a Pitbull named Perry

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shirt tucked tightly, smoothed over the contours contained therein
the body of evidence in support of the conclusion already reached

this, not in roundabout form, no pussyfooting here, bub,
but directly, like no one I’ve ever met

the soft curves in continuation over hip and haunch where the body bends, folding softly in a series of gestures and suggestions

and somewhere in all this, the differences diminish
the distance is diminished and the gravity,
that which almost inexplicably draws one thing to another
becomes the only thing that matters

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disappearer

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sweet desolation,
you kick my leg again, beneath this victorian table
you stand me up and exit me out with your bottle, your grin.
we leave in a fluster of goodbyes.
we are alone now, you and i,
and what sweet victory,
desolation.

it is another radioless evening driving out here along the pavement
and out and north i have spent all my money
on tankfuls of gasoline and a styrofoam cup.
all i need is the interstate wind,
a chance to be alone and taken.

it is this time of year
when the leaves have fallen to slick the asphalt surface
and the trees have grown bare to admit the halogen glow.
it is this time of night
when the october rain glistens in the turn
and the rearview mirror is dark and empty.
i have spent my money on gasoline, desolation.
i have spent a lifetime in your avenues
and i am still awaiting
your perfect kiss.

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Kill Build

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that’s when we scatter the ashes
and pull on the purse strings
in cinching it a little tighter
finished with a simple granny knot
things run their course, they always do

 

(just let it happen)

 

but there’s never any way to predict the outcome
it can only be coached along, coaxed along
molded when malleable and hardened when necessary

 

(let it happen)

 

the problem, or whatever it is
didn’t just happen, did it
the foundation of it was laid ages ago, wasn’t it
it just silts up after a while until
something must break

 

(it happens)

 

walls, will, and the will of man
all bunched up like a tense fist
you could cut it with a knife
but it probably wouldn’t help
it builds, though –
nonetheless
it builds until it’s palpable
taking on a certain dimension
a weight unto itself

 

(happens)

 

it builds until it spills
and it’s like the cascade can’t stop
and we all give in and watch it crumble
or better yet, watch it burn

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Answerable

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the call came
the call for words
letters forming words
words forming strings of meaning
meaning that has yet to be discovered

this is what happens
the indefinite asserts itself
a drifting of sorts without any intention
intending to, but not quite capable of execution
the intent or execution to make this the here and now

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in your absence

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wasd by tarboxan answer for everything, you have
perfected the art of that beverage and
crucially determined the iphone app we all
require

congrats on that vinyl recommendation and your
blog
links abundant to all of your other
advertisements
reminding us of what we have missed in your
absence

and as the facebook opens up, as your images illuminate my phone
as i drift away and forget to hit like
am i here
i am here
am i here?
i listen to the air
conditioning
good night

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Square Knot

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500px-Reef_knot.svg

Used with permission. Source Wikipedia.

from opposite directions each line meets, then intersects the other
the tiny checked pattern of the mantle glistening
red-flecked on white in a sea of blue swirling down its length
softly, almost imperceptibly, the kern emits a subtle hiss in adjustment

and around again, now skyward, arching in perfect symmetry towards the others each
from opposite directions, again, each line meets, then intersects the other
the patterns challenge each other in passing and on through the loops
and to end with a quick squeak, the final tightening, wound and rewound

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Sunday Suburbia

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Tonight you fell asleep in my arms.

The rhythm of your breathing
from time to time
finding its synchronicity with mine.

The images of the two entwined
develop and devolve
under the flickering light of the screen opposite
a string of words and images flashing…flooding.

And in that, you under my arm sinking into the elusive oblivion
leading the way as that last bit of gin makes its way past my gullet.

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Which Rich

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sitting here waiting for the drugs to kick in
this means as much now as it always has
but the way is different, the substance of it
another sip to satisfy the simple need,
indeed

to fuel and be fueled, in ritual and ransom
forcing the darkness, as one does, behind
between the two windows, under the lamp
as the intended course of action gets
traction

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