APPEARANCES

October 21, 2019

EDVARD MUNCH

“SOME KINDS OF NIGHT ANIMALS AND PEOPLE THAT DON’T FIT IN WITH OTHERS AND THAT NOBODY REALLY BELIEVES IN. THEY KEEP OUT OF THE WAY ALL THE YEAR. AND THEN WHEN EVERYTHING’S QUIET AND WHITE AND THE NIGHTS ARE LONG AND MOST PEOPLE ARE ASLEEP
— THEN THEY APPEAR.”
TOVE JANSSON, MOOMINLAND MIDWINTER


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the night fills book shelves

of  newselves

and ghosts ancient  that go silent
 
after you dare to glare it down.

the night fills full boxes

of hoaxes

all honest, bold-faced hazy facades

and full frontal epiphanies

TO SPEAK OF SPARROWS

October 16, 2019

Lyca Caparros- photo

 

TO SPEAK OF SPARROWS

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To speak of sparrows
In shrapnel filled world war one
Fields, winds, scarlet dawn

They will sing to find
Their own kind, if they have lived,
They will call and call,
‘Tween blood and budding daybreak,
A song will find it’s way back

BETTER BET

October 12, 2019

Maybe I can meet you

After my shift, hell after all my shifts

I’ll come to you from the usual dark

The black from the outside

Will brighten some on your skin

We’ll be less dissatisfied

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If  when  we  go  off

With all of our ghosts, when we lift

We’ll come to ditch the usual dark

That black from outside

With more tempered dreams to venture

To be less dissatisfied

DOUBTLE AGENT

October 7, 2019

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Here’s… far from hardly a chink in his ardor.

His duplicitousness

Is more than obvious

To himself most of all.

A double agent deepbreathing quiet

So dominoes don’t fall.

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Here’s far from hardly a mark on his honor.

His cowardice.

He can cover less & less

From himself least of all.

Bravery he saves to muster Love enough

To face away nothing , & Praise all..

LAPSELESS PACT

October 4, 2019

 

 

Stylite Yu, photo 

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When we get a might old & quite daft/

We better wear sweaters as we waffle whether there’s a cold air night draft/

When we don’t remember/ all the holidays in september/

When we won’t remember/ When the hearth needs more timber/

We’d do windows wide open mornings/ & doors too snow storming/

Fruit left last long past their sweet-point/

Just short of when vermin/ just cavort into the joint/

We’ll start to tell our dreams, last night/

It’s a cinch/ we’ll end on that rain-drenched island, right?/

We’ll toss & turn on real green moss/

& you can barely feel we’re wearing wet white/

On a hunch/ Our punchlines/ Without fail/ Will get filled in/

On a promise/ Our premises will trail off & off & off again/

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We’ll lose the car keys of sensibility/

We’ll lose some to the dark scenes of seniority

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Together    so

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We will never forget to never let go

REFUSING THE DAWN

September 28, 2019

IMG_4835

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I can Recognize, but hell, I can’t Realize so well.
I’d drink more coffee but my cardiologist insists I don’t
I’d drink more coffee but my heart man prescribes “not so smart, man”.

I’d think more whiskey would push me to bask at last in a primal light,

but my general practitioner generally frowns about practicing until I get it right.

I’d read more but eyes see less.. I digress,

I’d come 2/pray more/give in/give more/dream-sleep in/weep for once/

walk the lit dark like I used to/ Take in the dark light. I’ve so far refused to.

I can Recognize, but hell,

I don’t Realize so well.

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(FROM AT LEAST A DECADE BACK)

CONSCIOUS STALL

September 24, 2019

People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
― Carl Jung 

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“Under the willow tree I hide my mirror,

small enough to be mistaken for morning dew.

I look for a point of origin, something to explain how and why

we all must see it through.”          

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C O N S C I O U S   S T A L L

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Encased  in  impasse,

I couldn’t even eye the other passengers

Past my papers.

I wouldn’t watch what

My window offered:

Small towns, & all their lights,

Reflections, inside, of us riding passersby.

We keep on sweeping by.

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Inspecting  these all  aspects of my work,

Taking stock,   this stall  is a lock still.

I, Y’see, yesterday’s night

I ran nine yellow lights,

& Just as there were dares that didn’t time out right

I’ll just decide  to still ride

 

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the sublime opening verse is from my favorite online poet

Allison Grayhurst, from “Eating From An Imaginary Spoon”  https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/168535/posts/1567304886

 

 

TRAINAMY

 

 

 

 

S T E A D Y

September 20, 2019

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Surely it might go

You must breathe free and steady

On by its own steam

I SHOULD DO…AH CHOO, 2

September 18, 2019

prompt; whisper

I borrowed  a  pen
In an uberwaiting room
I wouldn’t just wait

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When I was a kid
I’d pack a backpocket pad
Whispered  “get  it  down”

 

I SHOULD DO…AH CHOO

September 18, 2019

Photo by Victor Talashuk (unsplash)

I SHOULD DO… AH CHOO

 

On every dawn
I’ll strive to stake out time
To pick up a pen

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I’ll squint out the light
Go over my piano
At first, and again

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I’ll pull down the shade
Thus I can practice my art
At first, and again