On Greenhouse Glass
August 29, 2022
I see I settled
I see I settled
It would faintly be a fate
(Freedom, comes a sweet release)
But I had settled
With wait.
.
Where our hours had hard-like hours
And landfilling them
Sets the sadder shadowed facets of silence
To stem.
.
Hey, yr own old fool & denier ,
Before you defile here
Yr dreamily dark greenhouse
Pitching
Both words and stark sticks & stones,
Get a hard look
On each hard-paned reflection
Sepia
August 25, 2022
*
*
We came around the corner through no door/
Saw us in a high-ceilinged room for no furniture/
It is darkish as an attic-trunk’s photograph/
Sepia./ And they had each stepped up
To face the wall/ Not disciplined children/
Not prisoners/ No devastating storm imminent/
Women and men in old jackets & shoes/
Stepped up to face the wall/
Uniformly four feet from each/ like bunks/
Though I suppose some mouths chose murmurs
Prayers stayed inordinately inaudible
(a complex way to say of the plain)/
No one kneeled/
This pure obviousness not to turn and whisper
“What do you make of this?” or
“Why here? And not anywhere elsewhere,
Necessarily alone?”
On darker shades
August 24, 2022
Too serious artists start w/
A storm-soaked base/
Ghost greys choke their palette’s
stab and dab place/
All the storm’s whites & blacks,
Ghost greys choke their palette’s
Stab and swab places
*
It takes dark tools
For foretelling what fails this fool/
.
Tho’ I would go and talk with god one time (overdue)
Late/ at a time near too late to live/
Tho’ I would go
“Why is the devil so negative?”
My god, no kidding did:
“Who?”
Just The Whispers
August 21, 2022
to save us
*
Sometime I know yr too teary
and don’t want to talk at all
and when I’m broken down weary,
Tho’ I’m free, I remain too
chained, to chance a call.
.
But we know
when we lock up,
the talk up where we go,
such heights, we hear, and hear angels
who have just
the whispers to save us,
and sacred salve us.
Old Movie
August 20, 2022
“It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we
cease to see.
The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it
“It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see.
The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.”-
-Anais Nin
The contract’s been settled
Just lacking the signatures
Our sold childhood home
We’re taking the figurines
“As Is” assisted us some
Their testings so thorough
I kidded “Where did the body go?”
They paid wire guys, fire guys,
Paid roofers, paid floor guys,
Paid pipe men, insect, & inspect men
& I don’t think they found
What we lost there
Those scenes there have escaped
The theater there.
For Branka, Or Marketa, Or maybe Christiana
August 20, 2022
Her face in a crowd
*
There’s a face in a film,
Her face in a crowd
Offsets all in wrecked angles
Enough to stun me out loud.
.
And lord, the line or two you are afforded
Naturally won’t match words under,
Your subtitles won’t ride well just under
The sexy subtexts, In your countenance.
.
Her hard words, Her straight stare;
She’s Eastern European — -Somewhere.
I can take it & cold-weather, that stare,
If she were here she’d share that stare.
If we were us, we’d share our sure and nervous west/east stare.
A Sister’s Chant
August 18, 2022
“This history thing,
I think it all comes & goes.
History comes & goes..
With mystery though,
Mystery just goes & goes.”
.
On this sidewalk, his sister Heather
Called out a talk there, so clever.
As she skipped, she scared up.. too clever.
Could be, she flipped through
What would be all I had
On legal pad.
Or, had she unearthed it all her own?
Gave birth to it, from some random rhythms?
Sacred chants have brought out less.
I’d Agnostick To Magic
August 17, 2022
I could stand where I stood.
It’s a waste to aspire to,
Want, or desire to
Believe that my boots
I could dare off my boat
Would hold its space good,
I could stand where I stood.
But if I were
Looking just so on the mirror,
Through the surface, on a wave,
Stepping stones could be there
for me, hold again as they have,
& no one’d be the wiser.
Like Lightening
August 10, 2022
There’s but one pretty way to spell my long sentence.
*
*
pray, tell
There’s but one pretty way to spell out
my long sentence.
If random luck holds out perhaps
The power, like lightening stabs
down my stance,
I’ll light up Dark dancing static
X Rayed, & loony like on a cartoon.
Man, I’ll be lit up like a mantle
in a lantern soon.
Windfall clarity
should scare all of me then.
If I should flinch when I have, by chance
One unscrambled avalanche,
Doled out sure/steady
As an hour old Soulful pillow rain
It means
I’ll miss all this when
The words come,
Spilling these spaces.&
I can’t be..
I ain’t nervous of naked undersurfaces
A Quest For Beauty
August 7, 2022
Stealing each stare
*
Until I have a heaven
I’m still sorry, & best regards.
Don’t say, “It’s not your fault.”
I mean I see sorrow, I like looking down.
You’d think I was taking my cue by 5 x 7
Index cards, Cue cards
On the ground.
.
.
When I wait for nothingplenty
And wearied, looking right at distraction,
Don’t say, “Close your eyes, for a halt.”
I mean I see beauty, I like looking there
You’d think I was stealing each stare, 20/20,
And pilfering underfeathers of satisfaction
In the air
spilling some 