Archive | February 2011

Again Lost

And anyway,
I could not see
(I was not supposed to see)
How it was
(How it could be).

Get a clean white cloth.
Try to displace that stain.
Or stand out in the yard
As the forked tongue electric
Makes ashes of dead wood,
Hope it washes away in the rain.

Or maybe that’s wrong.
What if it’s just too far from home?
Need a telescope
To look past the
Dark matter
Preoccupation.

Or what if it’s here but hidden?
Climb down those broken-board steps
To the cellar.
Breathe.
Dig through the rusty toolbox
And find the nail that can pierce it,
Or hold it together.

Just stop forgetting to remember.
This is one detail
Caught in the headlight —
The fogged-in grind —
Stone —
The daily minutiae.

Don’t forget.

Step back again.
Breathe.
And remember —
This is a passing cloud.
These are the shoes on your feet.
This is a bird in a tree.
Steering wheel —
Hard eye —
Iced pavement —
Lung —
Melting —
Heart.
You’re not the only one
Who is still
Here.

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She Made a Mask

Watch that doll
Practice her pout
And learn to lose
Herself —
So foreign,
So familiar.

Watch that hand
As it stitches
Swift time —
Each interval
Another eternity
Lost down a darkening road.

Watch it pass —
The wires,
The lines —
Electric.
You have
No seconds
To spare for practice
Anymore.

Dwell

Be a torn page
Tumbling down
Blacktop
In a gray drizzle.

I guess you’re old news now.

Get caught
In an updraft —
Uplifted —
But for what?
Taken hard
By that jet stream strong
And strange…

It never used to bother me.

There —
Then one day
Gone
And tumbling down that highway.

Hands will turn other pages
And those eyes —
Unfocused first —
Settle on
A new lexicon.

But it’s okay.
Let’s not linger.
Turn it into ink on paper,
Then tumble it down
The blacktop
In the rain.

Somewhere,
There’s a graveyard
For torn newsprint
And inkblood worries.
And somewhere,
A standing stone
Waits for your muddy bones,
Too.

 

Shared for OpenLinkNight at the dVerse Poets Pub Week 20…because this has long been one of my favorites…

Choke Seed

Doubt mounts —
Rising cloud towers
Build paths heavenward
To find no solace in lofty height.
Just this downward pulling
Into sheets of rain
To ease overbearing
Weight.

In the morning
She sends dolphin clouds
And birds in flight —
As if to mock
The bolted chain —
My bound heart.
The irons leave me numb.

But at least
A little moon cuts
Through my darkness.

Your shadow
Shroud
Turns me under
Then rolls me over —
Compacted.

Nothing takes root now
But the twisted weeds.

And in survival struggle
How could I pretend to see?
Mirror or Magnifier?
Or anything but those tendrils
Pushing against
Crushing taproot.

Let me sleep,
Now.
When these unnatural interlopers
Have removed their choking grasp —
Perhaps then —
I can reach toward light
Again.

Her Secret Safe

Not quite 1,000 miles
A sister
Who would take the blood
From my Veins
Another girl
Breathes There
I would gladly cut them open
To sustain
Her

And still
No one knows
The secret
Wish
The blood-knuckled
Twitch-eyed
Wrong
Dream

Put it away
Keep it hidden
Not even she
Nor she
Can know this

For
Who would blacken
Her brow
With This?
This dark desire
To stop

That beating heart

Sometimes the Missing

Her life–
The inner
And the outer world–
Like an open book,
Words that drip blood,
The open vein,
The tears warm from the swamp.
The cold breath that blew over the snow
As she lay there.
Waiting…
Waiting…
The fog of her breath
As she lay there
Waiting.

I miss her sometimes–
And though I never touched that skin–
Never looked deeply
Into that green eye–
There is a horizon there
So familiar
So known
I cannot escape it.

(Nor would I want to.)

But at night–
When the coyote pack drags down
The small,
The struggling,
The hidden thing
In the dark–
And the owl affirms
Every piece of wisdom that
Drifts down
In stardust–

I can feel her arm
Her hand
Her pulse
Her shared warmth
Descending down upon me
Like moonlight
On the page.