TO OFFER UP

June 14, 2020

 

 

 

 

I’m still intent on
Instilling something Graceful
On all my faces.

Try to force myself
To offer up  some strong move
Something Nureyev.

GOOD OLE COLD MORNING SONG

January 2, 2018

 

 

“Way over yonder in a minor key, Ain’t nobody that can sing like me”  -Woody Guthrie

 

.

.

.I said  I’d sing

For you  some morning

Well We’ll wait  when we’re nearer

Near  closer your ear

I’ll sing out  without warning

It’ll be a bit absurd

I’ll hack into  newest birdsong

I will await  re-entry  then

I  pipe  up  then

(you can see his breath as he greets dawn)

Sheets down

.

.”The cold front couldn’t stay out front still/

I guess you can rescue

Family plants  being killed,/

Button top buttons!,

And cheat out the chill”

OUTFITTINGS

June 8, 2017

Some beers and some whiskeys for chores, and morning correspondence.

Soon, off for driver’s licence and all the taxes they’ve attached to it.

I want my immigrant outfittings,

Rosewater holds my hair.

Legal photos are important these days.

Though no great grandchild will glimpse at me and try to recall all

I’ve maybe wondered.

 

 

 

 

“Faint Mists Paint a Maze”

is warranted as a title,

to be entitled, for a forward

to a body of work about:

highland trails, thorough haze,

brash dense brush, broken fences,

rainy bald boulders, wildflowers,

sunlight threads, down onto mosses,

log lichen, & mushrooms.

And as sea fog works so/ as a grey god’s cloaks,

far mountains are fathers.

Clinky silver rivulets

where waterbugs & yellow leaves

float off./  I can’t.  I’ve rolled off

these  fertile sheets.  & on.

.

OPENING CEREMONIES

January 23, 2014

Arcing up by the bed’s edge
Waking up, Adjust my eyes
Wipe up dreamy shards
For this world seemingly happens more hard
Force my fist Up for the games
Another brother
Our own heads down
Hardly, then,
It was outrageous
Heartily now
It is gracious
Head down
Good enough my chest is all stuffed full w/blood &

Good tough

 

1968 Olympics Black Power salute, by John Dominis ?Time Inc

“Way over yonder in the minor key/ Ain’t nobody that can sing like me”

                                                                         -woody Guthrie, Billy Bragg

.

.

.I said  I’d sing

For you  some morning

We’ll wait  when nearer

Near  close your ear

I’ll sing out  without warning

It’ll be absurd  a bit

I’ll hack into  new birdsong

Exactly await  re-entry  & then

I  pipe  up 

(you can see his breath as he greets dawn)

Sheets down

.

.”The cold front couldn’t stay out front still/

I guess you can rescue

Family plants from being killed,/

Button top buttons!,

And cheat out the chill”

 

 

 

                                                                     

 

 

LAST CALL (for muses)

November 29, 2012

I’m the only one revising,

As the only sun arises,

My night’s intermittent work.

For now the mulling over is over.

For I know that  morning lover lies, & stuff

Are starting up, & Will follow.

Parting’s such “Set one up neat” sorrow

To swallow.

I said, out loud,

“He’s sad, & Proud enough.”

 

R E N E W A L

August 27, 2012

It’s the quicksand edge of a rain squall

It’s a sick man on the ledge of it all

It’s the shore shifting in a violent fright

In a midnight storm

In a maybe might/

A long winter before the glint and glimmer

of words  onto daybreak’s birdsong,

When enough  renewal’s  been suffered to,

Enough  burning  and churning and yearning

has been  laboured  through

 

.

.

.

.

.                                                                   (2009)

It’s not been my story  to take inventory/

It’s  I can’t even fake  worry

About what I have, What I would want/

I suppose  I could pose  but I can’t/

It’s  said/

An  unexamined  life

Is  good  as  dead/

I said/

A body afloat, & solid thoughts will float too, y’know/

Lofty thoughts  not  caught  can ride

On all tides  High and low

Slighter A Wind Than

July 23, 2012

Despite  &,

With all her antics,

Winds still  move her

Like it does a half-dozen

Tiny tea roses

Before they’re right,  & hand-picked.

The slightest wind breezes

Will prove to move her

To a profound,  but protected

Melancholy…Or unexpected  joy,

Slighter a wind than

Whispered words might envoi,

Darenear  her softest skin.

.

.

.

.

envoy or envoi 2  (ˈɛnvɔɪ)
n
1. a brief dedicatory or explanatory stanza concluding certain forms of poetry, notably ballades
2. a postscript in other forms of verse or prose
[C14: from Old French envoye,  from envoyer  to send; see envoy 1 ]
envoi or envoi 2
n
[C14: from Old French envoye,  from envoyer  to send; see envoy 1 ]