F O R G E S

July 9, 2020

flame

 

There ought better be a beacon

On a pacific coast cliff could be

Where hope’s light works with sea horn

Where here a night light works without warning

It forces & forges the blackest fog & forests

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There can be a candle

in a window with enough heat

to fire the hearth

to light one lone solitary stone room

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”Writing is nothing more than a guided dream” -Jorge Luis Borges

 

IMG_4957

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Advent, even I wait on as

silent partner  in this stronghold.

Before I go on,

I’ll go on & make sure

The blinds are drawn.

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When I’m

Aware/Awake  It’s gone cold,

For me to know it,

I’ll go on & need you some

I’ll go on & remind me some

I’ll go and turn my life down some

I’ll sit myself down until

I’ll see myself still enough

To behold

We’re meant, both,

Silent partners in this stronghold.

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( FROM A FULL WOLF MOON BEHIND ALL THOSE CLOUDS,/ PHOTO, MIN

BABY CASK

December 30, 2019

 

It could be a baby cask of Chianti
With Leo Da Vinci
On the label like it took from a notebook
Curiosity sought the imagery
My thirst might evoke.

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It could be a baby cask upon a piano
Stark like one candle in one window
Not a word about the new chords
Almost heard in the darknesses,
A solemn oath, (I guess)
Not a word about the new chords.

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CASK

TO BE SAFE

December 24, 2019

card

Once intimate names you were taught to whisper before sleep,

Prayers, Spiritually assisting the adults in yr family

To be safe,

They’ve now too, lived through to be distant relations.

Except when you & Unicef-cards wave to them Xmasses

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Now, when this faraway family of this one naysayer

Finally writes to him,

I don’t doubt it’s not without

Very late night kind innocent prayer

FIRECOLOR

December 17, 2019

landscape-1819553_1280

Too late darknesses,
To too early empty dawns,
On to one firecolor
Promise of one more sunrise.
Go on, roll down the window.

CRUMBLED SOME

December 7, 2019

It’s more than a coincidence
That “pillow” rhymes/w “shadow”.
If I had to,
& the sense to know how,
I’d set the darkest dreams aside.
If I lied some, & thought those things
As tied up,
I’d fake it some, I’d hope some
For a wide enough merciful break,
& loosening rope,
& in this broken cup
I hold my spirits up.

“Very little grows on jagged rock/Be grounded/Be crumbled/So wildflowers will come up” -Rumi

cupstone

HELL'S DITCH

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Splash something stronger at the base of my pint glass

It’s more fertile earth

For to birth the guts & gas

One might need at night

To go on & drive clear off

Dark high-wire highways

Onto red dirt, rolling on cooling red dirt, to dead ends

So bleak a laugh comes out as a clearing cough

 

REFUSING THE DAWN

September 28, 2019

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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

 

 

 

 

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