#418. elided too

October 31, 2010

everyone is the mirror
no one is left out
left out is lonely
but leads to reflections
other than in the mirror
add years

with the light
of the young all around
the darkness
still makes itself known

time crawling
from the birth of mind
then speeding
through immortal years

and exploding
as the endless becomes
so apparent
and rest approaches

with the light
of wisdom all around
the darkness
becomes beloved known

mother
love
redfingers
daughters
clay
sons
damp
salt
straw
wine
charcoal
bread
kiln
pain
firing
work
bellows
weather
mortar
joy
house
shelter
home
wisdom
grandchildren
earth

#158 Th Woman (more)

January 30, 2010

Th woman
to curl cool
nourish plant poet wolf

the red rises flaunts
her stuff passion
as flame

as soil
city bred heavy
as the fine reggae bass

turns all fantasy sails
into elementals
as air

***

curve into lust
a round
lust oil
desire finds the sun
tan worlds.

#145. Th Woman (more)

January 17, 2010

Th woman
is a windowpane
slowly melting down.
a liquid

receive essence of i.
taste yr taste.

***

even.
on the telephone.
her voice.
tinglecalls me.
makes me.
move.

#144. Th Woman (more)

January 16, 2010

Th woman
as imagination
penetrates deep
all the thoughts and actions
of lust depth.
of all wakeful and visionary.
the shutter clicks
depth of all.

***

as sleep
asleep
the body flow upon me
lips pressed open.

the light of it.

#136. the old lumberyard

January 8, 2010

once
as a kid
i hit a ball
with my ‘lil roberto’
louisville slugger
it was still going up
as it rotated and sang
out of the yard
over the bushes
thru the green leaves
of the apple orchard trees
towards the pale blue pittsburgh sky.
we knew that ball was gone
instantly.
didnt even look for it.
i still have the bat.

#135. late winter ball

January 7, 2010

late winter ball

the stars
are expanding
the field so bright dissolves
in the specific sunlight of
fast ball.
curve ball
condenses eye
hand turns over the bat
and pure matter energizes
spacetime.
arise
and roar the ball
soaring flashing white laced
red turning entraining us to
the stars.

#112. Forbes Field Circa 1966

December 15, 2009

when
we were kids
we could never figure out
why the pittsburgh press and bob
prince were so mad at roberto.
we knotholers only knew
the great one
who would talk to us
for hours
in the sunshine
before the game.

#94. No Matter

November 27, 2009

No Matter

what
the cobwebs               spider groceries
all return to the corners
of the basement
my apartment
that blacks out with me
and smiles at the thought of you
also constricts
my urge to scream
and tear away
this veil of conformity.

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