06/23/10

are you the strong

structure,

and if so, what makes you

so? a hearty arch,

a pleasure dome?

a tensile force

pulling through the ages

(the heart is shear)

or an I-beam

cold, a holding-pattern,

alone like the glass

reflecting projections,

impenetrable

as the blue...

06/22/10

if i cld

just close the door

on june and all

the unfinished business

poems and papers and formal statements

on the empty friend

and resounding echo

on the disappointment of long hallways

and siren calls at 4am

on the lost grey world we called

home (ash in the mouth)

on the promise of forever

and the electronic knowledge tether

somewhere is a glorious

room of unearthed treasure

the neon green of marsh muck

the breath of living wood

beyond the fact

of a doorframe

an opening of all

this we have yearned for

a hand

a smile

or a surrender

into the welcoming loam

06/21/10

when the evening settled in

and the music sifted down river

we stood looking up

through the black on black

as we paused on the densely packed path

nary a pinprick of light (but

your hand) to guide

through the grove of long-standing trees

breathing, arms entangled

06/20/10

there was nothing innocent

in her picture

and i would not fall for it

(ivory-wintered inner thigh

overexposed

the summer heat)

06/19/10

nostalgia

we were never here

you and i

despite the wicker welcome

and the cross breeze

and all that green lining

the most perfect streets

there is snake oil and sunshine

in your smile, the innocence of teeth

sore with lemon

and canned heat

but how the charm refuses

to chip the whitest of deceit

06/18/10

she could be green with

envy her bright head hung low

or merely thirsty

06/17/10

and there was revelation

in another form

hours fitted into a glass

tossed back, and back

the lost thread

of conversation, something heard

mistaken

the heavy bottom and the slick wood

slip of the tongue and then

too much

later

the flashing neon pulse

gum-mouth

all wound and wonder

06/16/10

06/16/10

I, too, love

the sun

around which we burn

or

your skin all

citronella

in the forest low light

and

the fire pit

still smoldering in

the morning

06/15/10

it is no gift

what you mailed me

the small surprise

in all that plastic

but

an unsolved problem

that oil, all that

ancient undoing

to keep this all going

it is no miracle

but a tiny lemon

06/14/10

Isn't audience what

you always wanted

and now what

all that

anticipation

a flat table, cold silver

the cleared plate

and nothing to say

of the glass half empty

or the distance between

me and you

06/13/10

seven sisters cast from the chase

the great hunter, sea-walker dumbfounded

struck sightless

driven east as the oracle said

to recover the light, the dark purpose

the missed shot

what pride, what violence

chases you toward

that ever darkening sky?

06/12/10

seaside weather-worn gray slats line

my neighbor's deck where nearly every night

he stands with a glass of wine

color of your toes

surveying the Sound, its shifting

disposition, the flat glass stare-back

of water and buildings,

the way the western light singes all that cool

on certain midsummer sundowns.

how much time have you spent

looking down

into the cracks, or a glass,

or at the uncertain path beneath,

your slow feet?

or out

where only your mind can reach,

wishing something different,

closer,

your body able

to bridge what is between.

06/11/10

Remember that night

you came home late

with smoke in your beard

rose in your hand

and much later

how the petals curled and crisp

still held?

06/10/10

Because I think of death

far too much lately

how precarious the balance

of everything

is

I keep to the edge of wild

where I am learning

to regain my faith

in nature, in my own

hidden stregth

06/09/10

Along the everyday gray path,

the ladies bow their bulbous heads

a small breeze shifting, crosses the water

something like a blessing

you slow to take notice

today, receive what is offered

06/08/10

Amber

What would she recall?

Fennel and oranges,

the sound of fork against porcelain,

anything

he said. Trapped

is the sweetness behind the rind

the ancient, knowing world within.

06/07/10

sometimes chains are for

holding the sweetness between

your lips, then and now

06/06/10

i did not know what color

you carried everyday

disappearing

into the crowd

like light shifting under shadow

until i called you

a name

knew you as something singular

beyond the shuffle, follow, and flow