Monthly Archives: February 2012

A Re-Post of One of My Favorites

by

And all will pass

into the indivisible love

Andre Breton

Remember that -oh so long

ago when we were

ships whose sails

were not made

that day hour by

hour

And ‘oh these things happen’

But now, the winged

octopus will no longer

guide this —!

For life is not always a cabaret

Sometimes it’s just pitching

coffee cups at the trash

after consuming endless days

of creamy middles

and no wafers

in sight.

* *

Or incognito

as the signs

we’re waiting

to receive

while the unspoken words

are put out to sea

And what a shanty they’ll make

And the scurvy they’ll cure

And the doldrums they’ll surpass

And oh the cargo hulls

they’ll begin to fill

So soon they’ll

throw unnecessary passengers

overboard.

Moving Thoughtlessly

by

Midas reached out in autumn

then the leaves

dropped to the chilled ground.

He reached out again to the fields

then the farmers came to collect

the flax and wheat.

He tried the sky

and the clouds came in

and covered the sun

in lightning and rain.

He settled upon a head

who became happy

to be blonde

and thought maybe

there’s a chance

at being the next Marilyn

So she left Midas too.

 

Finally, after watching the seagulls for awhile

He took his gift and placed it on his watch

and retired

looking at the seconds

encased in gold

moving thoughtlessly along.

Coming Home

by

Getting up

means giving up on the ground

as if there wasn’t a fair

and comparable amount

of good there.

 

The air is a bit self-righteous

with its proselytizing for its domain

and is endless

in pursuit of followers.

 

But the soil has had many converts

and shows more grace

through the goodwill

of saint gravity

who performs miracles

of sprouting and also

of ripe and fresh

tears coming home.

 

Predawn

by

Quiet is a skill yet to be mastered

so it’s easy to imagine

dying and death

will be difficult.

 

Fear was instilled by the city

to bring about will

while thinking of the swell

out past the harbor

thinking there is where the living is

 

Trying to beat the sun to Queens

-the Village’s stoned rebels

with hands stretched are far away-

 

Back on Liberty Ave

where coffee is ready to go

so one black thing

won’t know a dream deferred

till another day.

 

(with inspiration from Pavese and Garcia-Lorca for Jean Toomer and Bob Kaufman -this African American History Month)