nubthousands of wasted wordsand still no poems
lovemy joy in you was short livedmy sorrow everlasting
the open roadthe road beckonsand I will answerI will ride Highway 65until my gas money gives outand leave my tired Buickin a soft ditch with the kudzuI'll walk until I finda place that touches me a soft patch of cool grasswith a view of the whole big sky a quiet placewhere I can lay myself downand no longer weepwith wearinessthe stars will shine downfrom the sea of nightand I'll smile whenI close my eyesknowing I can nowrun onforever
Tank Away 11The winter solsticehas passed. Winter nights will shorten,hearts warming with hope.And from the soft, hushed darkness,a new sun begins to rise.
running errandsit's not theeggs or milkor breadthat I'm afterit's the soundlonelyis quietand whenthe silencescreamsI mustfill itwithother people'snoise
dreamerhe's goneever searching forgreener pasturesand she droopslike a flowerin the rainwaiting againfor hisreturn
incalculablehe's good to mewe eat at nice placesand never arguehe's gentle in bedbut he isn't youwe lived onpeanut butter,ramen noodlesand the world fadedwhen you cameinto viewdisappeared utterlywhen you took mein your handshe loves meyou almost killedme with your leavingbut if you roared backinto my world tomorrowhe'd be forgotten bythe time we reachedthe highway
lightlesssince you've goneyour memory lay upon my worldlike a shadow across the suna point of impenetrable darknessfor which there isno remedy
revenantsome nights,dreams aren't enoughwhen the acheruns deep,I need more thanremembered embraces,imagined trysts,more than hopesof tomorrow, next week,next yearI want the truthof your bulkbeside me whenI turnin the dark,the realityof warm skinnot my own,the unknowingof lonelybut you're not here(and no one else will do)so I willtoss and turnin the cold armsof my dreamingonce more
ode to the seasonsspring-tide warmth is tickling toesas fawns nuzzle my heels,urging me forward intothe ocean of fallen blossoms.petals plunge against my ankles andbuds waft across the meadowto land, swirling, ballerina-likeinto my open hands.syrupy heat saunters alongside meand pushes me forth,onto the expanse of anight-sky draped, emerald summer.crickets trill their songs whilemeadowlarks nestle in their nests.i am cocooned in humidity and peace.leaves change colors answeringthe call of time, bright oranges,reds, yellows, slowly fade tothe same dry wrinkled brown.the fallen leaves give way tothe great gusts of cold wind,playing upon the breeze in afinal salute to their former glory.cold and snow play outsidemy frosted window panes,calling to me to come outand join them in their frolicking.
Autumn ThrenodyIt is quarter to winter.This is my elegy tothe paint-chipped stepsand autumn crowns.To invisible breathsand pathsacross the yard and back.To summer-lungsand sweat.I mourn the loss of Scorpius,but welcome Orion.I hang my August wordsand trade my voice for frost.This is the death of back-porch nights,the barefoot gait,and birdsong.
First SnowCold crystals fall,Angelic white flakesOf the night'sDeep-freeze;I regard the view,Reminiscing -The falling flakesAre the remainsOf my shattered,Colorless heart.
The Tidal WaveIt would come larger and deeper and bluer towering over meas I walked on the beach .I would feel paralysed insect tiny before it's rippling jaws the sand falling out from under me dread and dry ice fear mixed as I waited for the wave to crash.
MonotropaShewas monotropa,and hecame in and colonized her roots,enticed by her whispersof sweet blissful mutualism,and never have sweet nothingsbeen so accurately persuasive.For shetwirled his hyphaearound her finger;pulled him tight and nestled him closewith protein promises poisoned;saccharine elixir turned to vapor,clouding his searching visionand severing the heartstrings he’d plantedin her soiled soil-less heart,consummately consuming his efforts –Maneater, Black Widow, Achlorophyllous Charlatan.But helivedfor her enchantment,cross-eyed star-crossed,plaguing her in returnwith parasitic guiltover the lifeblood she lapped from him.Hewas her Sisyphus.And togetherthey form Oroborous;Consumed by each otherbut never devoured.
After the Ice StormA fine silver web of gemsWeaves along the branchesBright and clear, like thin-spun glassBut strong as iron, bringing the tree to its kneesLower and lowerThe boughs touch the ground nowCold as steal with fingers of laceClad in pure white mailEach link in the chain a diamondCatching the sunlight in glorious prismA burden or a beautyWho can say?
HojarascasHell's colors burn brightOptimism among child'sJokes unheard in theAir's breezes; oh,Rampant racesAcross the lastingSun-dried leaves asCollapsing branches fall inAnother sweet Autmn day.
lay me to sleep under the windowLittle children of the autumn where do you lingerWhere the rain is warm and feet may fail To hooves and wings a-fleetingTranscending now these season spacesTo etch their soul upon themTurnt' hides to faces born againEyes that can only grasp against'.Flee, November yearlings
Rainbow GreenGreenIt's the colour of grass on the roofs of the earth,The one plants are born and drunk in oceans,The one we preserve with life and hope,It's the colour of weed and vultures
Rise and ShineRimmed in darkness,the sun edges overthe horizon and shakesoff the remnants of night,a bright orange plate ona dark blue tablejust in time forbreakfast.