Sending poetry to the world
glimpes of streams
and teases of
jagged peaks behind
scarves – lace silk –
clouds, some
more like a corset.
the road curves ahead…
on either side
obscured mountain impressions
spruce – dark green tall thin –
and rain.
[written in 2003 within a sketch that i can’t reproduce here…]
I drain your thoughts away,
and then there are the glances and that subtle
flutter when you approach.
We crawl the night thirsty.
Desire between the damned is
my need to hurt you,
bite scratch claw you bloody.
And your need to lash out
those few nihilistic times we speak.
We know nothing of the other beyond these walls.
But then
in the haze of smoke that hangs down from the ceiling
like electrical wires
and loose panels under construction,
in the only light of green beer bottles and neon signs,
and empty sticky shot cups,
and those not amused by life anymore,
and the ragged dying breath of slow drunken dances,
and good girls sliding down poles,
and bad girls hiding in the bathroom,
and big muscled men and shaved heads singing Godsmack,
in the last hour,
When our eyes have adjusted,
you kiss me goodbye.
Panic before the world turns bright.
The frantic cramping fear that we have wasted it all.
We are thirsty gluttons for punishment.
the day I decide
to dress
all black
head to toe black
one gold necklace hanging
bright
is the day that I watch
(beer in hand)
a group of people carrying
a cross
chanting “God is great”
chanting, marching
and these people
go on and on and on–
they span blocks
I stare from the doorway
a black silhouette and
my black cat
listlessly watches through
her small window.
hey hon, hows bout a dance?
we could hold hands
and foxtrot.
hey hon, hows bout a kiss?
lean in close before ya
say goodnight.
before ya close the door to my
Mustang, turn quick,
and wave.
before the weekend winds away
back to steel and rust,
and dirt.
say you,
when rain bleeds
heavy
on window panes,
hear your parents
praying:
maybe next life
we’ll do it
better
maybe next go round
we’ll solve
puzzles
before untouched
we’ll conquer demons
yet to be
vanquished
we’ll reconcile these
self-hatreds
into a lasting peace
the sort that
when rain falls
will now sing us to
sleep.
[rip ryan]
I don’t want to be the ant!
Crawling my way to and from the ant hill
Traffic snarled in little ant paths all snaked
Through the world we can’t see from our
Small ant eyes. We see only the backs
of the other ants.
We know only our objective.
Walk straight, find food, pile it on your back,
Walk straight back.
Work, and work, and work. One after another
ants working long after you are gone.
Please, no!
Let me have a will to say,
“No, I will not be the ant!”
I will be
the bird above.
stretch’d flat on my back
sunshine on my face, bay breeze,
a perfect lunch break….
watch how the light slants
across the garden and lights red
the empty old vines
across the yard from the back
farm woods fields, the mysterious “back”
and notice,
the jungle gym no longer has swings…
when were they taken down?
years ago.
lifetimes ago.
feel the light grow brighter, hot
on your cheek through the glass door
like a warm hand
remember your grandparents waving goodbye
from their door on Charmuth
and your parents
top of the hill
low lingering light
silhouettes waving.
I slip in the shower, face to the tiles,
and think,
God I don’t want to be found
dead like this.
After I practice
holding my head up, shoulders back,
as if good posture
can somehow stop the inevitable.
After, pillow in
my lonely arms I
wait for ghostly whispers
but there is only darkness,
and quiet places,
street light illuminating
small spaces here and there.
Those spaces
are small glimmers
in a grand scheme.
I wish I knew
how to tell your story.
I wish you could know the sum
of all
these secrets.
Looking down the hall
is the same as peering
down a deep dark grave.
Simple truth is
we continue to bury those we love
unless we go first.
I have:
my father’s penchant
for “thinking man” classical
and my mamma’s love
of a sexy singer.
[quick note that i can’t help but share (sorry ma): my mom preferred Herman’s Hermits over the Beatles because she said they were “cuter”! HA]
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