Brood-fall-leap! into this cauldron-my mind. (Minds!)
Bring your courage: not one drop light!
You'll have need. Better yet, be insane.
It will keep you from lifting trinkets
from happy shelves, making them your own
as the path unwinds, locking you
to my windowpane-my world-my worldview.
It's caught in its rut, comfortable with its place:
bottom of the sea, tip of the stars.
Neptune, on the sly ruler of Orion,
keeps watch over sand grains,
equating them with mortal hearts,
even the upstarts.
Even the meek travel here safely,
singing pink tunes of tulip.
If they are meek, I'm celery stalks
with supercolumniating growth.
You will hear the snappings
the cracks of destruction,
and you will taste the snappings
as copper fear warns you:
a storm approaches.
'Rendi' told you what to expect.
I kick out my mind, bring within the acceptable form:
the rancid plate of conformity.
Now, have your pockets grown heavier yes, full?
Are your fingers slippery with sweat, leaving their mark?
Did you just tr
Epitome of Romanceit's spring, now. we keep our curtains drawn after it rains because the rainbows still make you cringe. the stars are out at night, though, after clear evenings that wait and stick. you explain constellations to me because i never read the books. our bed is always left unmade because whenever one of us walks by it, we like being reminded of hungry hands and hungrier hips. you leave me shower-steam messages on the bathroom mirror. you make us dinner and i watch you stir, secretly using extra ingredients to spell out our initials near the sink. we watch a sad movie and i can't find the tissues, so you let me use your sleeve. "i bought you this." "i know." and then you sneak away, coming back with crackers and a british accent.Epitome of Romance11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the summer you wake me up with ice cubes and your tongue. our windows stay open all night and you nudge me when the neighbors whisper as they pass our house in the morning, so sure that they heard me the night before. you tell me about how you used to wait for m
StaticStatic10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am sitting and
wiping away water stains.
I am destroying someone's little watercolor masterpieces.
I am watching my hands and waiting.
"I feel like we've lost each other or something
we're together all the time
but where have you been?"
You are all tired concern.
You never need to look at your hands.
They are sitting quietly in your lap
and I am sitting quietly for a while too
just waiting for my lips to move.
"I've been around
most of the time.
It's just been
everything seems so profoundly beautiful
or so profoundly sad.
I've just been—"
I feel myself breaking up.
I am in that place between two radio frequencies.
All static and dissonance.
I am tearing a napkin into tiny perfect squares
then dropping them one by one into my coffee cup.
Controlled motions to stay
"I cried seventeen times today."
There is another pause
a displacement of sound.
I hear a light burn out somewhere.
"Which were you c
Genesis, To FlyGenesis, To Fly11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Genesis, To Fly
Main Entry: 1vol•a•tile
Pronunciation: 'vä-l&-t&l, esp British -"tIl
Etymology: French, from Latin volatilis, from volare to fly
1 : readily vaporizable at a relatively low temperature</i>
An era of Edenistic emotion
curls around my finger tips and toes,
slowly working its way to my heart—
felt cold, inside,
in the summertime; and winter fills itself
with warm motion pic
Derivative Depositsthey will derive consistencyDerivative Deposits11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from the motion of lax drizzles,
engaging moments with precision,
each peace a steam travel
on a stolid amble amid lit trees
begging for constance,
begging for trespass,
begging for tide...
and you will be
that disconnected line
dotted, for meaning
in some transitory time,
aching for stability
and a thinner crowd.
the silence of a louder shrill
melts quicker than the pelt,
stirring smooth enough to
slick downside the stair
to where we meet in the foyer
at the end of our destination,
and breathless from the ride.
BigAnd it all came together with a crashBig10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an expanding singularity creating
Monumental foam rising in a desert sea
The monsters and the carnivores of the soon
and the twisting never
The cancers and the throbbing monads
The green megaliths and groping
The plush sentients
All at once.
Ascending mightily a broad expanse of unbounded
But all the same expelling passionately
the voidless form of before
to sum up into waves of sonic being all that
would pass for passing
all that would crash and scream and pass.
and indolent proportions
of waving wind spun across new fields
making bread, eating it
My DreamsMy Dreams10 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
On this morning of mornings,
I ask not to wake,
for the pain overtakes me,
and it's hurt I cannot shake,
I remember your voice,
no other in the world,
it calmed me like a drug,
the mother of pearl,
I remember the words,
sung not spoken,
a heart not broken,
I remember the laugh,
a joy from above,
it caressed my rough skin,
like the kiss of a dove,
it brought me higher,
to the skies above,
and set me back down,
a cloud full of love,
I remember the tears,
of the little girl inside,
always asking for the answers,
but not afraid to hide,
a girl with a fist,
and a heart full of a pride,
I remember the way,
the way I loved you,
like no other can have,
no other can hold,
nor the Devil could uphold,
you always won,
as you're doing now,
I cannot shake this feeling,
that I fucked up somehow,
a spirit hear me,
hear my cry,
hear me now,
grant me a night of sleep,
a way to cope with this disease,
a disease no doctor,
or kiss can pleas
I fell the night He roseit was Easter Sunday, the year 2004I fell the night He rose10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when in a series of gulps
I lost my innocence
and ol' man Nelson told me stories in my grandmother's house
his old guitar singing the lovechild of a blues, jazz, country, folk orgy
but I'm thinkin' in blue skies instead of gray now
and I know he was justa wannabe Injun pothead
being melancholy on his ay-
Yea I followed granny's example
'cause my head was ahurtin'
and they were like the horde of blue skittles
hid from the masses since the beginning
and I tasted the rainbow
but my memory's jogged for miles now
and I know the orange bottles made them as gray as
the hair on the robots in retirement
wearin' diapers 'cause dey jus' don' kno wen dey gon' go
so here's to chemical tesseracts
mixing the first note with the last
while ol' Willie just braidin' his grays
and I'm wond'rin if I wanted a headache
in that chilly Easter living room
but my eyesight's been well adju
TrenchesShe's aphasic. She doesn'tTrenches10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cough mustard gas
from rice paper lungs.
Her armies have learned
it's habit to fight,
lose a black mud trench
and retake it
five hours later.
For one million casualties,
one hundred yards were gained.
is ten thousand men down,
and she crawls
over their bodies,
fingers and toes
with dirt, blood,
and blue flesh.
Sometimes I'm so hungry
that I feel full,
sick and clenched.
my empty hands feel
like they're holding something
asea, tonightasea, tonight10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm at your door; can hear the brass and bass,
the snare drum, through the glass. It's jazz, tonight.
You let me in and suddenly I'm in
a room of profound poets, who sing their verse
through shining horns, sweet saxophone riffs.
The solos drift so richly, dance among smoke rings—
tonight, when everyone's somebody's cool cat.
There's a girl whose trumpet weeps when she woos its keys,
those wailing notes like Miles would have played.
And the long-haired bassist pains his face as he plucks
away at the tired shape the body makes,
he sways. And when the guitar's clean strings do sing,
it's melody carries a twang so sweet—it's jazz,
tonight. Tonight!— We can be alive, tonight.
And I'm in the corner, no horn in hand, not even
a cigarette for now. I'm just a shadow this evening,
no harmony for me. Just silent taps
of thumbs on thighs; of a breath before sirens sing.
Tonight, blue tunes knew the way through a smoky
sea—found me… Last I heard they were still awaiting
Waiting for the rainHere,Waiting for the rain10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the earth cracks like unpolished leather.
A woman sits nursing,
(her life drying up like an ancient waterhole)
and dreams of verdant green.
Spring, she reads in an old school book,
is found in lands that have time to blossom,
while she waits for the rain.
The CordContentsThe Cord10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I. "Tomato Stew"
II. "conversation with the neighbour"
III. "Man in No.3"
V. "On the Road (part one)"
VI. "On the Road (part two)"
VII. "On the Road (part three)"
VIII. "untitled document"
IX. "Motel Room"
X. "Hospital again (insecticide)"
XI. "The Separation"
XII. "Before the Law (timber wolf)"
XIII. "conversation with the mother"
XIV. "another document"
I. Tomato Stew
she's crying away in that little room of hers, what does she want now? leave the
wooden spoon resting on the pot bubbling away limping down the corridor the
screaming grows from a muffle into hi-fi eardrum perforation. she looks helpless
in her confines but I know the stew is going to overflow. tomato stew ambles beyond
lipped edges, rush to the stove turn down the heat, bubbles exhumed with a hiss
leaving chaos on the floor ceiling table drawers cutlery statue chairs and the sink.
but she won't stop the antichrist screaming, i'm late for work and the flo
Safer DialogueIs there something you need to tell me? Because I've been pining over crayoned walls like child covered night-light halls, like backwards calls to saints inside me. And if you had the balls to lie beside me under stars and ask me what my biggest fears are, I would let you know: you. And where you've been, and how long you plan to let me grow away from what you gave me. Or, how long you plan to let me wait for you to save me before you make it known that you're not on your way, before you claim ashamed of what you made me. Let's be clear, here: you are no king. Your puppeteer fingers are fears on fraying strings, and you're folding, sticking slick to tears, licking years away. The mirrors that you're holding, dear, aren't strong enough to save the day because if seven years is nothing, there's disrespect in what you say.Safer Dialogue8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You know you think like someone's watching, but you're alone. And do you pray for those you're losing when the lights are down real low? Do you consider me a liar cause
SEEKING SPRING 2SEEKING SPRING 210 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the tree-in-winter man
bough bent with wintry woes
Inside, below the gnarled and ravelled rind,
inscribed by glacial ink in cruel seasons,
exigencies and crises lie curled
concentrically in seized circles
from heartwood to the bark.
Inside, again, sap congealed and gelid
trapped static in harsh-hardened tracheids,
sits still pooled and sorrow chilled
in serried cellular ranks
from yesterday's roots to tomorrow's twig.
Yes, I am the tree-in-winter man
waiting for spring's demulcent peach-pink
breath to melt and liquefy
from frigid core to icebound bole
and tempt the sap to surge and rise.
And then these soft green buds
I harboured in the long dark days
will plump and swell;
and blossoms white as snow
will ecstatically burst the knotted bark
to be strewn and scattered on the ground
drowning out westdrowning out west10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It has not been so bad here -- warmer than home and they call the place differently than we do. You know how we always said Mizzery?
They call it Mizzera.
Auntie J and Uncle Agner have made the attic comfortable for me. From my window I can see hills fattening in the distance and the river veins away from them -- winds right through the pasture.
Tell mother I wear the cardigan she crocheted and no one can tell yet. Auntie looks hard, cause she knows I should be blowing up, but she's disappointed. She tells me eat right cause she wants her new baby healthy and she heaps enough food for two grown-ups on my plate; I eat as much as I can, but it all comes up anyway.
Give everyone my love.
Mother is still too upset to write; I hope you understand. I'm glad you're settled in.
Agner only owns the pasture,
he hasn't a breath of livestock
His job is on the road,
so I'm alone with Auntie
and the boys most days.
The phone rings
Scoliosiswe are the words and the bonesScoliosis10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
revel in us
creators of this trial
living in this
dying before fulfilling
we wrote buildings onto parchment
and paved streets with quills
the splendor we lived
and now we sit
we are the life,
the heart and the bones of this
watching words fade
and fall to the new
exuding from fraud
on all food chains
and now we sit
upon our words
the heart and the bones of this
we are the drones
the words and the bones
and now we sit