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.

 

 

.

 

 

Brand new website without all those effin adverts, commercial interruptions,

basically uninvited strangers. distracting us

But You…I re-invite you

So if you are subscribed.. subscribe again!  there’s gotta be a subscribe button somewhere

I’m at   namelessneedblog.com

(just drop the wordpress)

(I think there must be a mailbox there too I’m thinkin)

if you wanna paste me into favorites (where I was before, right?)    I paste easy enough

let me spill my guts for you guys. like Tom Waits sings “Step Right Up!”

BESIDE A LIGHTHOUSE

August 7, 2018

All my daddies looked down to me
One daddy is asea
.

First fogs sound off as if
Birdsong was it’s voice
I meant like all lighthouses yearn
Intent on seeing inside the fog
For anything but distraction
I’m no lack for that at home
I’m straining out my eyes, & hand too
For something right to fill in
Something tonight to fill in

ENNUI DANCE

July 20, 2018

“And this is the simple truth–that to live is to feel oneself lost” – Soren Kierkegaard

G L I M P S E
A trance makes its appearance here  as
placid lakes pull fog up tight,
elsewhere perfect light there
sets to subtle sonatas
for Dance,
for ponderance and if
tucked not too loud  in a cloud. tonight
if OK  I guess I may  get my own drift.
Or glance.
.
.
.
.
.
.                                                                                                        (old rhyme in a box,2008)
.

s t I N K
.
of all the lies
in the air
that this liar
is truly unaware of
(is ’truly’ the right word?)
of all the lies
casual and caressing there
the air currents n
night blooming jasmine
(is ’current’ the correct word?)
My golden ones have come from…
(I’ve told em. All alchemy.)
emboldened lies, all born, I imagine,
from an open pen draining onto pages,
.
from nothing.
.
.
.
I’VE IVORY
.
Shiny gold pen when an old
Shade-off light bulb
(it can be a candle)
Best Klieg-lights this crèche ,
Best showcases this birthplace.
.
On my knees
To lure verities, (surely, scour our trees)
To cure maladies,
Wrest fallacies from unsound foundations,
Whisper one less lonely
Wise, recognizable incantation.
Take this shiny gold pen…!
.
It’s nearby, go forth, go further.
I clear my path,
& Go over…
& I’ve Ivory!
Simba’ s mammoth cemetery!
(they must go in deep)
Precious sunned bones poised on as symbols
Archetexture actually
I take a sacred see of symmetry

 

20150727_090324

“Those bells’ve been ringing now for years, Someday I’ll give it all away,

That’s how you sing Amazing Grace”      -LOW, from “Amazing Grace”

.

.

As specified in final arrangements

The kids could only draw near enough

To temples,  & to what resembles temples,

To take big pictures, big sky country shots,

& pot shots,

For a faraway featuring of folly.

.

.

.

Go down always face  down the hall,

A dawn displays holy sun rays smoke

And on the just rightly out of tune upright bass

My at rest  in peace bare-chested Daddy

Just barely jazzin up most all  of a

New England Protestant hymnal

Ones his mother Grace

Sang through  softly  over & over

Busy with handiwork  as ever

.

.

.

.                                                          rest in peace bare-chested daddy

E D G E S

June 9, 2018

 

Realer!   I like light now

Up upon this  here theatre

Wake  upend  my mists

I dread this dreamy

Why can’t I come to?

.

Pink & peachish Cecily swirls

Boisterous moistness will flow

Within this frame, in this inside denied

I dread this dreamy

Why can’t I come too?

.

Paths for barefeet, in time, will lead some

Down to unknown & full blown Utopiatown

Fixed up & finished  for fun and contentment

Far back in bed from this dreamy

Why can’t I come too?

.

.

.

 

image: “Choreographed Flesh Breakdown”    Painter: Cecily Brown

ANGUISH/ RENEWAL

June 1, 2018

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

( from 12/06)

 

“Mental anguish always results from the avoidance of legitimate suffering.”
― Stefan Molyneux

NURSIE DEAR

May 23, 2018

I’ve dreamt of an angel nursie dear

Near  she sat and pat my brow

Her half-smile warmed me with more light, more hope here

I fell back on my fevered pillow

.

.

.

Why? Why by chance you’re my Florence Nightengale

That grows pale at my rows of wounded

& Hard-headedly disclaims, “All is tainted”

But goes on blinking out your saint eyes

All the shadows god’s light must have painted?

MY PLEA, SURE

February 14, 2018

 

 

I loved   just under my breath

Just above the collar-

Toward the back of her moon-colored sundress.

Hold on  to my breath

Hold,   & I holy hope

Right forthright for our portal opening

& if we’d once/ Go take this chance

This  achy  slow  dance is done today

This must  go & leave  t’heaven

Just one heave away