Archive | February, 2019

Femur rings

18 Feb

Is this ending?

Am I sleeping?

I’m rearranging.

It’s exciting.

. . .

“What I’m feeling?

‘Course I’m reeling.”

A stretch for ceiling.

“Well, I’m leaving.”

. . .

Turn the key ring

Belt is squealing

but I’m breathing.

Heart’s alive and I’m breathing.

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Clover

17 Feb

Yo La Tengo – Green Arrow

I smell clover.

The purple white bursts

of pollen,

of summer heat,

and sour wheat,

chest high

and seas deep.

Thrashing cricks

that claw between

mounds of mulch

that clamor on

atop the gulch

of brethren fallen

to white veins.

We’d open floodplains

and one of the neighbors many sons

would trudge the swamp

and erase the floods we’d done.

. . .

And on the boat,

on bone dry land

we’d hunt.

We’d rend the dipping sun.

We’d run and run

from boots in mud.

Dripping blood across my hands,

snare heart drum

Doing laps over the lands.

. . .

Yeah I know we had

our opposites,

feuding bands,

bountiful rocks,

spacely plans,

separate plots.

My memories

amplify

the waves of heat.

Can’t tell the difference between clay and cleet.

The things we share

in thorns and rust,

the windy stare

of devil’s dust.

The devils snare

of shit rose glass

and small town fairs.

Quaint until

you’re working there.

. . .

We did not all get

all we want.

Would what we want

have been enough?

Image: mikhail kryshen

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Song

7 Feb

Hop Along – Prior Things

Just a few minutes after hearing it

I realized

I’d be driving this peg into my skull

for the foreseeable.

A new cornerstone for the pedestal

I place a thought with tone.

Whatever thought was told

they sold, I said.

Whatever words were whispered

was breath I made.

Can I really replace the lens

to change the way light bends

in every old photograph?

I can.

I can.

I can.

And in doing so,

every song becomes my own.

Reeling with the feeling of possession

and tension of every beat and measure,

is how all those scenes and stories

became embedded in my history.

–

I had the gall

to wrap your soul

in the confines of this song.

Or it in you… I got it wrong.

And oh I got it wrong.

And it was wrong.

And I know it was a poor excuse.

And no it’s not my only fuse,

but it felt like a slight at me

and the way I arranged this offering.

Yes I know it’s dumb

to watch your thumb

and it’s polarity

to define my clarity.

–

Thank you for holding fast,

as it’s clear from our past

I need a week and a ream

To form an apology.

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