T R E E

April 16, 2019

tree

 

 

 

T R E E

 

There’s a tree in this stretch of barren hell

It has Beauty  and surely shade

I’ll sit and see how far I’ve come

I’ll look off to  somewhere I’ll die

 

 

 

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.
.
.
.
.Artwork “The Waiting” kindly loaned by Christian
http://chriseastmids.deviantart.com/

 

 

 

 

ImageImageImageImage

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”.

.

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.

 

WORST BEDTIME STORY EVER

January 21, 2019

 

 

If   he’s  truly  gone

He fell from a tree

Night-vision just finally darkened black

That might happen, if  it’s  true,

When he would move forward to a new branch

.

I found an opossum  on my lawn

& if he’s truly gone

His  odd  defense

Odd  Lazarus  gifts

Of cessation, resurrection.

Odd mask of death  did drop?

We’d ask if his time was up.

 

Give  him  a  kick

“Wake  up”

There’s this secret I’ve kept  so discreet
From lovers, & brothers, & mothers.
I’ve mis managed to become  so mum
It was only clearer to me
After self therapy
The other day, or another.
.
From this encompassing dream,
I finally wanted
All the solid things I was sold to get,
When it’s important to want one.
.
I Get
Silk batik ties, Italian silk shirts,
Dead men’s tweed jackets,
Dry cleaned, & all in the closet.
.
I Wait For And Get
Too new Peter & P.J., Gabriel and Harvey,
Unheard of, they’re still in their jacket.
Too new Laurie Anderson, Richard Thompson,
Unheard of, they’re still in their jacket.
.
I Waited For & Get a
Big Bio book of Elliott Smith,
and the case is still closed
.
I Get
New Yorker’s
Drawings & Captions
All of them (All these years)
Data on disc
unplayed & unsmiled to. (sadly)
I Got
New Yorker’s
Drawings & Captions
The Board Game…
.
..
Why I With-hold
All that pleasure,
I haven’t a clue.
It’s half-like half-holding love
At arm’s length,
& watching it do

.

.

.

.

.                                                               (FROM 10 YEARS BACK)

DON’T LOOK BACK

December 23, 2018

humour me
it’s surely not insurmountable
humour me
I concur it’s not as easy as
glossy magazines face-up on coffee tables
it’s what I really want for christmas
it’s what I really want for my wish to go
for when stars shoot, for my pennies deep in a well,
when a haytruck passes–Don’t Look Back! aw hell
I guess it’s a day way more serious
it’s a night  more so

NEW DEAL

September 2, 2018

If our fog lifts

Like tired old myths

The ones “old salts”

Sing about at seaside public vaults

Never locked  They’re never locked

It’s best. I better work this new deal

The wording has wounds, needs doctoring

How long will you allow me here?

If our fog lifts

My table and window will clear.

 

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

 

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