Take Place

Been rubbernecking. Keeping an eye out for where time took an odd moment to add an extra scar to the road.

*

The last ditch that took some effort to carve. To assure a certain waylay for someone just needing to get away.

*

The truth for all its power sets everybody else free but itself. Instead chooses transformation. Settles for concealment. To be protected from witnessing itself.

*

Can’t turn my back on myself but my back also won’t look me in my face so what good’s a back anyway? If it didn’t come with the body why would anyone even bother having one?

*

The faults furthered the cause of the tectonic shifts. Line breaks will always be a part of this world. Each side is a stanza. The earth quakes suddenly understanding another version needs to take place. This place.

Overcast

“… can never forget

Once every wall was water…”

Mary Oliver

Goals were never stated

for tears

set free

for overcast

brought about

by and for

some unknown

bend of shame,

regret.

 

Dampened consequences

bringing to rot

an idea

someone else

would

die for.

Variety

who decides ‘or’

? how unfortunate are those

who have power over choice!

here in cells w/ stow away

diversity

there is only ‘and’

crawling into pores

forces tongues

to reform / revolt /

rear-end

codeswitches stuck

on one more signal

up ahead at crossroads

needed to be crossed

to reach next

reference point.

*

this is both a determiner and the determined

this – the first person

– singular / collective

this – specific. definite.

of this who has control?

glory be to the world of options,

to the land of variety.

At/HERE

New Year’s resolution –
stop talking to yourself.
*
I have no promises to keep.

So it seems, good sense only goes so far as genius allows. As one grows increasingly informed, the desire becomes to lose commonality and the sensibility which accompanies it. What good is a sense if it is only used for good? Give me a sense which brings a sensation – hand on stove, fall from heights. Excitement in known harm but unknown consequences doled out by nature.
*
What I wanted was not really to be alone but to be head over heels over someone. Someplace for emotions to go. I’m ambitious that way.
*
Who will concur while I wait? Without a fever for the infirmary. Without need for quarantine, who else will be here to hear?
*
I don’t like ‘cool.’ I don’t like ‘beautiful.’ I don’t like. I just don’t like. Let me love something indefinable for once. Let me hate. Leave me the freedom to go beyond dislike to the extremist position against certain notions. Let me have floors and ceilings in this room. Leave my food by the door. I’ll swallow it when it cools off a bit.
*
In solitude, I take even the public rather personally. Get offended or let joy arise from those passing by.
*
Consequences are irrelevant to cruelty.
*
Am I guilty of or for irony? What liberty, what power in producing, being, becoming another ending – only somewhat unexpected. Because, who doesn’t account for the curse of the paradox?
*
I am barbaric. Or I was. Or I want to be. Anyway, Barbary is close to me.
*
What forms of expression are at my disposal?

Have I seemed happy for at least some of the time?

Maybe in the end it will appear (to be) more apparent.
*
Somebody is talking about a fear of airplanes and I’m here thinking about a fear of talking to anyone or in particular – a someone across the room from here.

Neither these nor those books are shields. And besides, a proper glance caught in spectacular timing cuts right through.

Oh, but a look caught in flight can see a lot of turbulence.
*
Patience will always prove random is regular. Chaos dictates how the lines will shorten. No turns are being taken, orderly, while waiting.
*
Does one exist who is deserving as much of admiration as affection?

I feel I’ve been born into a banned life. I think I understand now that there is no room in languages frequented or neglected for duality. For similarity to feel the same.

This soul came passed down from those passed on with certain policies intact. Boycott the insincere. Embargo bad faith. Find distant compassion for those who are fake only because otherwise there would be no need to ever use words. There’d be no comprehension of a range of emotions.

Nonetheless, I’ve given up on smiling.

(originally published in eccolinguistics)

Level Up and Off

gave in and kept on

till

what wouldn’t stop

would have to cave in

even became the offshoot

of eventually

t turned to d

and paired up

got tangled

and let

a couple of grudges

go.

*

it’s  Christmastime – after all –

after all

in reciprocity

a villain for every village

without any appeal.

but,

have faith there’s always room for one more trope

a cliche

to fit any affair

.

shells

egg drop

strangers

eyes

tofu

chopsticks

tradition forged

by guild

of

no other options

*

whose name is that? say it again

haven’t heard it since summer

if the sun

was a mirror

how unseasonable

it would be

how out of order it might be,

what achievements it could unlock

, how easy it would be

for the brightness

of itself

and earth

below,

stars for light years around

to

level up

and off

.

When Sometimes is All of the Times

sometimes

all there is to suffer from

is

from

Another’s Lines

Some days reading is more a task of imagination – staring – off the page

instead of following scripts

Sometimes early on,

moving late into night

words

are more shards

than window or mirror

Each page alternates between

one last chance and one time

The blazed path is somehow rocky

and switchbacks

switch no more

the slope is angled

almost 90 degrees

and the road cut

right up the median

The blanket a half inch of wool, cotton or snow

all seen a good chance against this

City and country both real

but the words so strewn

make no stops

at either station

Then this pen has to equip itself for travel

to the end

not being reached

today

in another’s lines

So Readily

went to bed praying for more vocabulary

woke up to a new chess set.

black and white made their arguments in those same terms

and action almost won

without a single sound

but in joy finally gave in to ‘check’

before the eventual loss

to ‘mate.’

and that was the only time the right word

ever came so readily.

Pacing Thoughts

Pacing thoughts.
slowed to
back-forth
circles
speed and competition
of race
have been reduced.
the Brickyard is one hardwood floor
cut into bedroom (unused),
‘living’ room, kitchen, bathroom-
(w)here thoughts slow themselves
enough to be seen
as
number read on the side
before spoiler
passes by
on left turn loop.

From Not So Fast

Not So Fast

But there is a chasm
filled with scripts
or screenplays.
Somewhere there’s a rusty
RCA Victor mike
And a Yamaha amp
with peculiar buzz
of mosquito secrets
And no one has been able
to fill the ad.
Openings and closings delayed
with the same repartee of one of these
shows.
* * *
Can’t both stare in the mirror
in the same moment.
Two wholly wholes
halfway blended
Connected – a point just beyond
the brain.
Craniums fused into one –
crammed
with lyrics
of cowboy songs.
A multi-appended chimera
facing two ways
into compromise
And when one goes
I’ll have to carry
that load
too.
String arrangements.

To read the home poem click here

or go the Chapbooks and Long Poems page