Tag Archives: Poetry

Near-threatened

3 Oct

Photo by Shardar Tarikul Islam

When I list out people that

I admire,

You appear and flicker fade

like candle fire.

I’m constantly returning to

our memories.

I’m fighting this aggressiveness

with apathy.

I’m looking through your words like

lost and found,

searching for some themes

to rally ’round.

Yeah there’s nothing I want more than

a little love,

seemingly unattainable.

A couple of

in decline Bobwhite quail

myopically

pulling feathers from our tails.

Ungracefully,

I’m fighting to keep the world from

feeling so small.

I’m still just sleeping with

the cameras on.

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Skin

28 Feb

Your song lives in my skin.

Its peaks and pits

laying atop

my warm resin.


Your soul will fill my form.

A coat and clothes

for those mechanicals.

A place for me to live.


What will I be,

when I’m fifty two

times ninety three?

Have I found my gravity?


What will I do,

when I’m ninety three

times fifty two?

Have I nailed my follow through?

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Shapes in the day

21 Feb

I laid my head

on the water in my bed.

Recall what you said


Shapes on my mast’s head

Could you know mine?

Do you know mine?


Two balls on thread

Do you know mine?

Do you know mine?


Becalmed for days

My ribs want for your ways

No more delays


There’s bite on my breakaway

Be my ensign

Be my ensign


Cat’s paws ablaze

Draw my great spine

on your waterline


Just replace all my ballast stones

I’ll find my way back home

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Notes

18 Feb

Orcas: Until Then

The notes we leave

to remind ourselves

and others

we tried.

What else can we do?

I don’t know a hero.

I know those who

took what they were given

and made something.

And I know those who

took what they were given

and took their leave.

Some souls don’t weave.

—

The notes we leave

to remind ourselves

of others.

We tried.

What a simple clue.

Of our friends and foes

I don’t know who

Is still alive and thriving,

and made something.

And I don’t know who

wouldn’t take what they were given

and make a home.

To stitch and sew.

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My darlings

3 Dec

Bon Iver – Beach Baby

The wait of it all, filling

books with those I won’t kill,

books my darlings fill.

Scraps will fall, telling

how I keep my memories;

ones I’ll forget eventually

’cause sequences, strings and strands.

Cross my I’s and dot my and’s,

’cause I don’t know the state I’m in,

nor the vessel Magdalene,

or why old apologies

were so self serving.

–

Ways they taper, silent

does an end appear.

Does it dull the fear?

Is there a place to hide it?

Well I hide mine here,

scrawled within some post or mirror,

’cause I’ve never known the pain,

the cringe, the blow across the face

of losing such a piece of me.

But that’s how it has to be.

The sorrow on that last reprise,

to read my words through fresh new eyes.

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for me.

20 Nov

Sun sands sights. The lights

are smooth. I move. Your flight,

my rail, your tail, your coos.

Ways soft youths have proved

unkind. The times your tooths

drew blood. I shrug. Shut eyes.

Cold clean quarantine

and part whole heart is key

for peace at least for me.

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Move

25 Oct

The Suburbs: Arcade Fire

I’m moving past

all the thoughts that I had

and cycles that seemed

never to end.

I’m here to amend

every inch of thread

spent in haste

of not wanting change,

because how could I gauge

what I had? The rage

inducing scene where I

leaned over in laze.

I couldn’t make the case

for not treading in place

but never again.

Never again will I

see through copilot eyes.

No more tying the ties

conjured by ease.

I stand seizing the yoke.

Every urge, every joke

of a crave, now broke.

I’m moving past.

Moving on into the end.

Every moment spoken.

No restart. No try again.

I’m moving past.

Moving on into the end.

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Ritual 2

16 Oct

1928: Califone

Cold stone phone woke again.

Courting song sung in tones.

Cold ride froze my toes.

Sorting words to keep sane.

–

Hasty call, “Damn it all”

I dive into the sound.

That old stroke coming round.

Spotting shrouds around.

–

Quarter hour of self defeat.

Crane bones. Lift to sky.

Stars pull ropes of mine.

(My weight while I why)

–

There’s tunnels buried under me.

Sloping sly, a gentle mile.

Melting down a fading smile.

Home again upon the tile.

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Change

3 Sep

You Shall Know the Spirit – Pfarmers

Maybe this time when I

look in the mirror I

won’t see a face

that’s so far from my own.

Maybe on a closer

inspection detection

of the differences

fade away.

In my mind I’ve got

some static frame from

some film that’s

never played.

And the man in there

never moved – he soothes.

He’s always from

a distant day.

But the light I hold

should fade away.

I’d never want to be

forever unchanged.

Because imprinted on my wake,

handfuls of birds strewn across

a lake.

I won’t see their beaks because

I can’t stay awake.

–

Mind is swirling with

northern lights, my pith

won’t stay quiet it will

never not shift.

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Losing the light 2

30 Aug

a l e x – Proud Of You (feat. Alicks)

This is the light for a walk.

Just you and some thoughts.

Orange glow on the rocks.

Drinks hot and toes not.

–

This is the light just for me.

Unpack everything I’ve seen

and do it quietly.

–

–

This is the time for a talk;

dim light and decaf.

Let’s ditch the flock,

this wick burns fast.

–

A life armed to the teeth.

A cheetah out of breath.

A knife with no sheath.

All the things we build ourselves.

–

But this is the light for a walk;

in the hue from the loch,

picking the knots,

gapping the stops.

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