TO SEE GETHSEMANE

April 19, 2019

Blackened breezes rustle
Sacred/ olive trees, skies muscled thick.
I took a sight that set me more lost
More sour than seasick.
I see him, knees bloodied,
Face drawn/ down
to earth.
I was being/ once/
Just a man also.
I spied/ by my back down
To my murk/
I cried/ by my own shadow,
But did not cry out,
To interrupt all that too intimate.

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When I was a young/ more willful man,
I fasted/ from dawn friday
Until the last of easter/ Today
I’m past that/ I take the families
To the best italian place,
For sacrificial lamb & blood red wine
& all before that, maybe grace.

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HALF-HALE & HARDY, yet

April 17, 2019

“The thick leaves in my murmur/ Are rustling like a dream/ And all their myriad voices/ Instinct with spirit seem”        Emily Bronte, from “The Night Wind”

 

 

 

 

 

I’m half-Hale & a Hardy old man.

Yet I have one world  of failings,

Yet  universal   ‘elan.     

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The endgame  is a sight closer

I can only see it  now

Like the woods across the street, Close,

Like one worn path for the woods.

Noir Morning

April 13, 2019

Change & keys upon a bureau corner

Can’t be far from boots and his trousers

Low volume all night tv tells murder stories

Some are unsolved like this week I’ve been havin’

I could get my car back if the garage is open

My fuckin’ phone got lost in a downtown without pity

I’ll maybe get another once I am way  down the road

Some contacts, all the music won’t be easily replaced

I can chalk it up to “Oh Well”.  Sunday’s almost come

THE WAITING

March 4, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

I couldn’t keep my shirt on
I actually had a hand at the door
I wouldn’t wait for the EKG guy
.
The express lines were full up at the IGA.
So was the cart in front of me, the one in my way.
My body required liquids I needed to buy.
& me, I wouldn’t wait for the EKG guy
.
My car needed work (I see I did too, OK?)
Ever still again, Time stalled & would stay.
Never, “Our time is up for today”
I’d bet Time’s a fleeting debt, not a gift.
I about bolted but my Ford’s on the lift.

.You’d think a man with wait issues
Would shy away some
From a long-distance love, he could only see some.
How he’d wait & wait for her laugh on the phone
How he’d wait & wait for her letters to come
How he’d wait & wait for liaisons alone
How he’d wait & wait for a time all their own.
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.Artwork “The Waiting” kindly loaned by Christian
http://chriseastmids.deviantart.com/

 

 

 

 

ImageImageImageImage

Here, lover’s laughter remains a remnant.

She’s  there  in  Vermont.

But like laughter  in the next room.

She’s near enough for sharing joy

Nearly enough to emit the warmths of

Chimes..and vibes..and glockenspiels..

The mix makes songs  of her laughter.

And not just in the next room,

Not just this focused moment,

But most heatedly here, this resounding chamber

Of this house and this heart.

 

 

A GOOD WORD PLEASE

February 7, 2019

All oncoming traffic headlit my shadows, just behind this parapet

No, that’s not the word, really

Not that word, a good word though

Like “peripatetic”   for me

You,  “peridot”.

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Oncoming traffic’s shadows brush me rough

I’m tucked in a kinda cove  in some lemon grove

I’m sitting it out  for a breakout

Once the sun’s out

I’ll turn & make out for greener pastures

I’ll make up for  what they seen as grave errors.

 

CAROLINE VALENTINE’S EYES

February 2, 2019

lovers,  when asked about lovers

all I can muster, “Is it likely

I even have  likers?”

.

But I’ve known  you  like  me,

&  I’m too fond of you.

I’m too fond of yr. brilliant squinty eyes;

It’s  faceted blue apatites,

Aquamarine, no, blue topaz,

Wild emeralds,  a hell of a violet spinel,

No, tear sapphires, for real,

No.   Aquamarine.

,

I’m urged to end virtually all this spelunking business

What?  My time’s up? (& dearly departed?)

I just did “eyes”,     I just got started.

 

 

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“THEORETICALLY”

January 30, 2019

“This  ole  sot

Theoretically  is   empty,”  he went,

“Momentarily  anyways.”

Faces death, & all that rot,

Not to say, not so long before  he’s meant.

He sifts scenery…all Regret.

But m’Lord of Mercy. .That scent!

 

“More of whatcha  got,”

Forwarding his fine glass there,

“Don’t stop  just yet.”

 

 

 

20190130_161954_Film4.jpg

 

 

 

 

STILL, THERE WAS THAT LIGHT

January 24, 2019

She won’t remember when  without a word we wandered
Dark collegetown neighborhoods.
Where were the dogs & cops? I wondered.
We were thrilled for the night still.
Still, there were all the satellites.
And very still, there was that light
In a candlelit picture window.
It gave a silhouette, a shadow  readying a bed.
Buffing up a sheet, she showed us,
(My sister Janny and me),
Her heart-stopping Beauty;
A silent ballet shadow show that
We acknowledged.
Her walk-stopping ethereal naked lines.
Then we  continued on, still wordless.
Then got stiller yet.

BIT OF A RECLUSE

January 23, 2019

It could be I got bit
Three times by a recluse spider.
Here in the sub-tropics
Where recluse spiders are a risk
But I’m a bit of a recluse, too.
I like the dark,
My own time, & whiskey.
Oh, the friends and kin they call me;
They go “Cool Guy!”,
Man, they might  “Night Falls”  me.
When  there’s  three red moons on my arm,

They all do enthrall me,
Almost with their own flow chart.
It’s dangerous art,
Three red, full moons on my arm.