new poem -4.19.2010

Monday, April 19th, 2010 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*accept this*

by & large the herd is average
& while this is no reason to hate them,
it is certainly no reason to love them
…accept this little death

…the heart squeeze moment,
when a good friend becomes a
hypocrite
…accept this little death

…finding you’ve nothing at all,
valuable or worthless, to throw into
the drunken bonfire
…accept this little death

… the oddly welcome weariness
arising from the incessant balancing
of ache & joy
…accept this little death

pomes2

Tuesday, October 27th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | Comments Off

*qi gong in the park*
(for roberto sharpe)

the master wishes to be called
mister,
& does not refer to himself as
sifu

…you know he is a teacher,
because when he speaks;
you learn

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

*bled to this conclusion*

humanity, like matter; can be
neither created nor destroyed

…willful actions & non-actions by humans,
those that are evil, & those which are merely
less-than-good, are also indicative of humanity
-why, yes; very much so

…it is possible, probable,
& perhaps also likely, that those
who seem to have lost their
humanity at some point, never
actually had all that much in the
1^st place

24th

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*untitled(06.24.09)*
“the volitile spirits prefer unhappiness’
-g. santayana

of course
its all
light; even
the sabotage
…for some,
joy
is manna
hidden while
awake, &
forgotten for
later, when
it’s found
& eaten
while they
are sleepwalking,

23rd

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*better now,
thanks*
i folded my grief
into an origami
crane, & because it

would not fly away,
i put it in an ashtray,
& set it on fire

22nd

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*the sweet ache*
the well
which will sustain us
lies buried
among the mundane & fantastic

there will be some magic,
a little prayer
but mostly a lot of digging involved

it’s an old story;
vision & sweat
in prescribed amounts

our backs will be sore,
our eyes will be clear,
& we will
want
to carry on

& not understand
why
till much later

21st

Sunday, June 21st, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | 1 Comment

*RIP (06/21/2009)*
…at the memorial service
for a local poet saint

in the omni-denominational
unitarian church

memories in the air
like incense smoke

everybody holding hands
& singing amazing grace

all stripped of armor,
like st. joan

when i learn one of those
things that i always knew;

there are some songs that
you just ain’t singing right

unless you’re crying

20th

Saturday, June 20th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*the why &
the way things are*
(w/ thanx to bucky fuller)
there’s no point in fighting
the way things are

fighting
the way things are

is tiring, costly, & ineffective
& the only outcome of fighting
the way things are

is that you will annoy
the why
the way things are

&
the why
is better equipped to deal
w/ annoyances like you,
than you are for fighting
the why

this is
the way things are

so let them be

& find yourself
a better way

19th

Friday, June 19th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*apathy insurance*
dawn was coming up,
quiet as a hard-on
…stumbling back to the flat
full of lady fingers & rope burn,
i glanced up at the crushed velvet sky,
& gave mr. moon the nod
…he played it cool,
observing my swerving
from the corner of a half-open eye,
like the front desk manager
of a seedy hotel,
the kind w/ hourly rates,
& a broken pay-phone
in a lobby that smells
like human soup,
the  tragic old carpet
sings tattered arias
…sure, he’s got your number,
he’s peeped your cards & read your book too
…he’s got something on everybody
but they’d never get it out of him;
he don’t know nobody &
he don’t know nothing &
he don’t pass judgment
…not because of any
lofty moral position, you
understand,
but because
he just
stone
don’t
care

18th

Thursday, June 18th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*inspiration*
this poem is a weapon,
but it is not to be aimed at
the enemy

17th

Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions | No Comments

*wet grass sticks
to my bare ankles*
(a suburban idyll)
the scene after dinner;
all that red wine on the tablecloth,
& herself locked in the bathroom
…looking back, i could see that
as the sun crawled higher into the sky,
the whiskey in our glasses grew weaker
…it hid all afternoon in the shadows of our skulls,
like a cartoon lightening bolt,
staying out of the sun till night fell
…gathering its strength

…now its late & cool, &
the sprinklers are on & i remember
the croquet set
never got put away