#493. private lothlorien

December 3, 2011

sun in my face
crispy leaf space
brown hounds share it with me
there is the path
say yes and walk

listen creek water 
stones  and deep roots
join up clearly and sing
there by the path
late afternoon

air flying south
geese honking call
past the pale winter moon
there on the path
shadows go deep

lights flick alive
weave thru evergreens
up down familiar hills
there with the path
dogs lead me home

Still the cherry tree in the spring is so beautiful with its tiny pale pink not quite white petals, undersized compared to the maples and oaks who share the front yard and who steal all its light as spring fades forwards towards summer the blossoms fall silently to cover the bare spot in the lawn caused by the cherry tree blocking the light of the pittsburgh sun.

Still the cherry tree in the late spring with its blossoms falling silently to cover the bare spot in its shade and as spring fades forwards towards summer the blossoms fall silently to cover the bare spot in the lawn caused by the cherry tree blocking the light of the pittsburgh sun.

Still the cherry tree gives three small boys cooling cover for their summer games of matchbox cars and teasing the girls with muddy feet and the front lawn is surrounded by a thick and evil bed of green ivy thriving on the skins and bones of the gazillion balls we lost while playing with brothers and friends.

Still the cherry tree in the fall lifts upright branches guarding the sons from the chilling father wind and the front lawn is surrounded by a thick and evil bed of green ivy thriving on the skins and bones of the gazillion balls we lost while playing with brothers and friends.

Still the cherry tree keeps watch on me as the winter snow falls to cover the bare spot in its cold shade and I freeze to avoid the dark wrath of the eyes of the chilling father wind that waits within my house.

Still the cherry tree keeps watch on me as the snow falls to cover the bare spot in its cold shade as I freeze to avoid the dark wrath that waits within my house still the cherry tree still the cherry tree keeps watch on me keeps watch on me keeps watch keeps watch.

20110331-124353.jpg

Still the cherry tree in the spring is so beautiful with its tiny pale pink not quite white petals, undersized compared to the maples and oaks who share the front yard and who steal all its light as spring fades forwards towards summer the blossoms fall silently to cover the bare spot in the lawn caused by the cherry tree blocking the light of the Pittsburgh sun.

Still the cherry tree in the late spring with its blossoms falling silently to cover the bare spot in its shade and as spring fades forwards towards summer the blossoms fall silently to cover the bare spot in the lawn caused by the cherry tree blocking the Pittsburgh sun.

Still the cherry tree gives three small boys cooling cover for their summer games of matchbox cars and teasing the girls with muddy feet and the front lawn is surrounded by a thick and evil bed of green ivy thriving on the skins and bones of the gazillion balls we lost while playing with brothers and friends.

Still the cherry tree in the fall lifts upright branches guarding the sons from the chilling father wind and the front lawn is surrounded by a thick and evil bed of green ivy thriving on the skins and bones of the gazillion balls we lost while playing with brothers and friends.

#460. List Of Friends

February 16, 2011

List Of Friends

“I think a lot about things, and

I think a lot of, well, a few anyway

think like I think and see things

the sane way I see them. Right now

I’d just as soon groove.

c razy.”

— John Daley

Transition.

What?

a touch?

No!

I don’t wanna touch

it just

upsets me.

No touching.

No risks.

Just self

pity

aloneing

in my room

all the dirty clothes

cracked walls

smelly sheets

they no longer smell of anyone but me.

Being nothing.

Really.

Just dying of bitter summer

first time alone in my life.

just dying.

But

What letter is this my soul receives?

What letter is this

my soul receives?

Is it a pardon?

Is it painful?

Is it you?

What letter is this my soul receives?

Riding the chaos blues

the difference between us

is a list of friends

typed up and laying on my coffee table

my bitter and pained list of friends

I want to tell you something

but I didn’t

wanna say it.

need some ups

can’t clear my head

fuckme

fuck me.

The beginning

again but no

you are not here

satisfaction

I on the phone

reverse the charges are collect where is my proof

you are still there?

porcelain shattered dial tones.

all my ingrown fear and laziness

is rising like the yellow smoke of your last cigarette

to choke me

but the mistakes have been mine.

can’t clear my head

fuck me

fuckme.

Separate

the Earth

the life of all.

the garden is prepared for growing

but the gardener is choking on a mind

twisted toes spread in the mud.

and the children sing

‘dig that phonedaddy’ yo

cloud!

come back here, I can’t catch you!

the fist closes

tendons curved and jammed into the granite crack

two walls faced stone corner

and kills

or cripples

can’t pull myself up can’t clear my head

open

happy letter

“hello i love you”

Fall is may-blessed this year

“won’t you tell me your name?”

Here I am, hunkered down on the niagara, drawing my face up

into my eyes. The Earth is polluted here, making the sunset

beautiful and sad.

can’t clear my head

fuck me

Fuck me.

It has always been the lie

separating me from my laziness.

perfection?

try bleeding for a while

what does it matter whether the cigarettes

take away from the t’ai chi?

dance perfectly!

smoke perfectly!

and leave me the fuck alone

since you do it anyway

do it all the way.

can’t clear my head

fuck me

fuck me.

I have a shy and virgin heart

so I send poems to play.

Tell me, what is relativity to you?

flashed

mashed

potatoes and peas

event

fills a potion of mind

and two friends

now tomorrow

we will drive to the sun

by a lake drive

with friendly

women i

get

tired

of

sunsets

tho

can’t clear my head

fuck me

fuck me.

My list of friends I am afraid

its the shadow

pass it on

it belays me to the light

pass it down

depth of experience

telephone’s disconnected the gap

can be no bigger

than buffalo to st. louis

But

What letter is this my soul receives?

Is it a garden?

Is it a vision?

Is it a basket of flowers and leaves?

What letter is this

my soul receives?

decade dance

“I could have been one of these things first.”

–Nick Drake

My hair

is longer than it looks

new scene

life bed and board

the decade dance

has me in hand

it’s like an aroma

strange words

to hang on iron.

Arched back

bowstring

in tension pulled

to pierce a gaze

catching and killing a spring time

object so simple

a choice

either or

a buttercup

your lover’s strong back.

Before fire, there was lovelaughter and dark to contain

them.

The light showed up fear.

Before fire we met.

Transaction

the speech patterns the game

patterns the eye

and mouths

and hairshining

flying low beneath the ceiling

above the pool table

in the bar we met

and brought about the moving

the months.

Who are the friends?

Biopolitics

deal the cards

dance the decade dance

dance with me.

Move.

Separate the seasons.

rain sun snow wind

MOVE.

there is weather out there

taste the gorge and scree

Move!

a morning summer wind is strong

as the leaves it

MOVES!

(kinda like this

terra d’ ombra earth of shade

decennio d’ ombra decade of shade

decennio d’ terra decade of earth

ombra d’ terra shade of earth

ombra d’ ombra shade of shade

But

What letter is this my soul receives?

It is spoken!

It is written!

It is me

my soul doth receive

List of friends

how distinct it is see

the faces you know

backdropped

by faces you don’t know

standing on line

and then you know it’s love.

my list of friends,

“it’s the eye of God, there’s no bottom—“

–Jack Kerouac

amen.

#452. longest night

January 5, 2011

into present solstice
being the frozen moment
capturing quiet winter time
snowing going silently forward
passing spring time understanding
that under today’s fall summer sleeps

 
  

#442. mom

December 1, 2010

all those years
the fall wind through an open window
the white hood
your closed eyes silent staring at mine
which are yours

#409. published

October 20, 2010

picking
up a red leaf
maple and small
that the crisp wind
brought announcing
softly winter

#406. mainely in my mind

October 16, 2010

its so funny
how crisp autumn
leads to change
returns thought
to creation dreams
of the road

finding the path once more
my boots turn away from home
towards the forests of living trees
the dying many colored leaves and far hills
and the honey golden hound who stops and gazes
back with puzzled tilted head soft eyes saying lets go

#405. autumn terrace report

October 13, 2010

fragment of summer
night stars
over
manhattan
a brief piece of peace

the free joy cries of children
and the barking answers of dogs
with the scent of street vendor barbecue
tickling my nose i lean back and close my eyes
as you reach over and playfully gently tug my beard

#400. two sides of winter

October 4, 2010

the first tree has turned
the city goes autumn
catches the wind
the rain sweeps
the plaza
leaves
swirl
my eyes
follow one high
the bridge flying
in the mist anchors
the future spring beyond

%d bloggers like this: