dark, standing by four
pallets fastened together,
focused light for
focus
shot, jump jump, two in
the pallet pen, knife, holding,
hot mercury blood on cement
and shavings, on her hands by shaking
arms, her strong thin legs kneeling
on the hog’s shoulders, less
movement, warm calm
on her hands, her eyes/ scared
brown eyes by the
light, sure eyes
scared, ashamed
lonely fighting lonely
hurt, sure
lonely
scared
eyes
12.2.10
PORTRAIT NOT PORTRAIT
(1)
Oh ungallant bird
beautiful beak
broken body
broken not broke mind
gull, scavenging gull walking
Broken body
woman buried under fear and disbelief
no woman can call herself free…
controlled by lashing herself to her body.
wave crash
woman buried, no woman is free
THINK: i am a feminist
Woman in form
beautiful wave crash
lapping at the continent
wet, cold on rock
woman not woman
(2)
The first night i remember thinking it was a mistake, i shouldn't try
so hard, i shouldn't work so hard or expect anyone to worry.
10:30 - under clock
Clockwork
Miserable bastard
frost fucked
wave of disbelief
resting in the cold filth
(Prelude Postmortem)
Dead chicken free from
house hate
your house, our house
in love with your world, your world
he is in love with your world
(3)
Dark
wave crashing wave
retreat occurring
white foam and wave
under wave
city glow crest crash
retreat under
occurring wave reoccurring
moon occurring crash
wave retreat crash rock
wave
occurring reoccurring
retreat
wave
(4)
Drunk
wave caught on my counter
wanting to say so much more
her tears rolling back and
flowing in
cut not cut
caught on my counter
is it her or is it me?
More woman less girl…
always I suspected.
laughing woman
bitter woman
peaceful woman
passionate woman
woman not woman
beautiful wave beautiful
(5)
Dark wave crashing
once alone, twice alone
crashing on streets
beating at buildings
washing out
crashing solitary in bed
crashing
wave not wave
dark wave crashing
Oh ungallant bird
beautiful beak
broken body
broken not broke mind
gull, scavenging gull walking
Broken body
woman buried under fear and disbelief
no woman can call herself free…
controlled by lashing herself to her body.
wave crash
woman buried, no woman is free
THINK: i am a feminist
Woman in form
beautiful wave crash
lapping at the continent
wet, cold on rock
woman not woman
(2)
The first night i remember thinking it was a mistake, i shouldn't try
so hard, i shouldn't work so hard or expect anyone to worry.
10:30 - under clock
Clockwork
Miserable bastard
frost fucked
wave of disbelief
resting in the cold filth
(Prelude Postmortem)
Dead chicken free from
house hate
your house, our house
in love with your world, your world
he is in love with your world
(3)
Dark
wave crashing wave
retreat occurring
white foam and wave
under wave
city glow crest crash
retreat under
occurring wave reoccurring
moon occurring crash
wave retreat crash rock
wave
occurring reoccurring
retreat
wave
(4)
Drunk
wave caught on my counter
wanting to say so much more
her tears rolling back and
flowing in
cut not cut
caught on my counter
is it her or is it me?
More woman less girl…
always I suspected.
laughing woman
bitter woman
peaceful woman
passionate woman
woman not woman
beautiful wave beautiful
(5)
Dark wave crashing
once alone, twice alone
crashing on streets
beating at buildings
washing out
crashing solitary in bed
crashing
wave not wave
dark wave crashing
Natural History
she planted the bulbs with
her left hand, resting
the right one on her knee for
balance as she squatted
cloud hovering for a time,
slow moving,
at least for the moment...
most likely cumulus, deliberate,
forced to collect everything
she passes over, forced by her nature,
until the weight is to much
to bear
on this mountain, at this home,
she rolls patiently,
more so than usual...
not a visitor, more,
looking to pour off
the weight,
coming to the mountain,
hoping it will release
the accumulated total...
mountain effect,
simple dry land
on the other side
her left hand, resting
the right one on her knee for
balance as she squatted
cloud hovering for a time,
slow moving,
at least for the moment...
most likely cumulus, deliberate,
forced to collect everything
she passes over, forced by her nature,
until the weight is to much
to bear
on this mountain, at this home,
she rolls patiently,
more so than usual...
not a visitor, more,
looking to pour off
the weight,
coming to the mountain,
hoping it will release
the accumulated total...
mountain effect,
simple dry land
on the other side
I WOKE DREAMING
i woke dreaming,
left clothless
in the sky at night, bright
rich ribbon wrapped back
over, dreaming southern cross
breathing north star.
i dream the seas at halfway rock
banging against the ocean back
to jaquish, kneeling carved iron,
humble, waiting
dreaming jaquish
jaquish night
jaquish sand
jaquish gull
i dream a road home
old road, tall trees
houseless, and a pond
i dream home
stars, moon following
from the truck window
red truck
pines like mine
full moon blue black
night, shadows and
just enough light
i remember it so clearly,
a kingdom of dream
parceled in my
heart
left clothless
in the sky at night, bright
rich ribbon wrapped back
over, dreaming southern cross
breathing north star.
i dream the seas at halfway rock
banging against the ocean back
to jaquish, kneeling carved iron,
humble, waiting
dreaming jaquish
jaquish night
jaquish sand
jaquish gull
i dream a road home
old road, tall trees
houseless, and a pond
i dream home
stars, moon following
from the truck window
red truck
pines like mine
full moon blue black
night, shadows and
just enough light
i remember it so clearly,
a kingdom of dream
parceled in my
heart
GARY LAWLESS IS MY POET HERO
walking together across the three bridges, hand
in hand, six years apart
against the lenses staring into his blue grey
white eyes, hands on the glass, looking in
him looking out beyond me, beyond the
bridges, beyond the lyubliana, past,
into, beyond, looking
we’d walk and laugh, over the bridges, three
bridges, laugh about being fools, benign fools.
about dug mudded clams, and rockweed, hard
hands. we’d talk about the hay and
turnips back home, fresh figs in the
market as we waked past the small
cafe street city
and i’d sing his books in my head,
great italian ghost tour, gondola into open
water, trips to japan, now, now or never, great
ambassador in my morning, sleeping
morning. waiting on the bridge
holding hands, he’d ask why i came
he’d work my thoughts, sickle my
ideas, thresh my reason
at home he stands on the hard
coast, naked, bearded, arms
stretched, belly out
yelling...
barbarian. child. free.
in hand, six years apart
against the lenses staring into his blue grey
white eyes, hands on the glass, looking in
him looking out beyond me, beyond the
bridges, beyond the lyubliana, past,
into, beyond, looking
we’d walk and laugh, over the bridges, three
bridges, laugh about being fools, benign fools.
about dug mudded clams, and rockweed, hard
hands. we’d talk about the hay and
turnips back home, fresh figs in the
market as we waked past the small
cafe street city
and i’d sing his books in my head,
great italian ghost tour, gondola into open
water, trips to japan, now, now or never, great
ambassador in my morning, sleeping
morning. waiting on the bridge
holding hands, he’d ask why i came
he’d work my thoughts, sickle my
ideas, thresh my reason
at home he stands on the hard
coast, naked, bearded, arms
stretched, belly out
yelling...
barbarian. child. free.
FROM THE EASTERN PROMENADE, PORTLAND MAINE
the water is wide
from me to great diamond
waves folding the light
gulls weaving the hoard
of boats, again and over
mercilessly
not as quiet of a morning
as it could be
but quiet enough for
as wide as i feel
from me to great diamond
waves folding the light
gulls weaving the hoard
of boats, again and over
mercilessly
not as quiet of a morning
as it could be
but quiet enough for
as wide as i feel
REMEMBERING MUKPO
the day after thanksgiving, walking with
my friend up the mountain, the same
mountain i walk most days, i realized i
went where i didn’t mean to go...
i’d already been up to take some
space, to give him some quiet in the house
and on my way back, i met him, two
mason jars of coffee in his jacket
sitting on the cliffs, drinking
coffee, we told stories, jokes, asked for help
for forgiveness, watched the sun arch and
drop
we walked below the cliffs and stopped
then walked further, back up and around the
other side to a smaller, steeper more remote
cliff
we traded haikus and laughed about our ichabana
arrangements for the family the day before,
white and red pines, a spruce and low bush
juniper, quiet blue still reflecting off us
to the air around, moss,
lichens on tree and rock
i don’t worry about losing this friend,
i worry about losing the moment
and the ease of his breath...
i’m not afraid of forgetting his nature,
or breaking his heart, i’m afraid of
being bound in an unlocked cage,
never seeing the moon for the
friend beside me
or the pines in the cold blue air
my friend up the mountain, the same
mountain i walk most days, i realized i
went where i didn’t mean to go...
i’d already been up to take some
space, to give him some quiet in the house
and on my way back, i met him, two
mason jars of coffee in his jacket
sitting on the cliffs, drinking
coffee, we told stories, jokes, asked for help
for forgiveness, watched the sun arch and
drop
we walked below the cliffs and stopped
then walked further, back up and around the
other side to a smaller, steeper more remote
cliff
we traded haikus and laughed about our ichabana
arrangements for the family the day before,
white and red pines, a spruce and low bush
juniper, quiet blue still reflecting off us
to the air around, moss,
lichens on tree and rock
i don’t worry about losing this friend,
i worry about losing the moment
and the ease of his breath...
i’m not afraid of forgetting his nature,
or breaking his heart, i’m afraid of
being bound in an unlocked cage,
never seeing the moon for the
friend beside me
or the pines in the cold blue air
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
