30 September 2009

It's a Metaphor, Fool

Can't sleep tonight. Words digging trenches in my brain. This poem is a reaction to something that happened in Modern Poetry class tonight, a story that ends in my professor telling me, "That would be fine, if this were a poetry class." Yeah. The first two lines are an Asian Figure poem, and the rest is me.


"It's a Metaphor, Fool"

Silent
like the thief the dog bit.

the best man
in love with the bride,
the furrow
on the brow
of the girl in the coma.

the eviction notice
posted on the door
of the man who died
alone
three days previous.

the sound of raindrops
to headphoned ears.
the screech of the tires
just before
the car hits you,

the letter
you wrote to someone
the moment before
you burned it.

27 September 2009

Remembrance in Fall

An old man with a walker
stumbles up the ramp
of the facility
that’s now his home.
He misses his picket fence,
the trees that he planted in his yard,
the whisper of bubbles popping in dishwater,
and the soft, warm arms of his dead wife.

I turn a corner
onto another shadow-lined street:
a child in red
running across his yard,
crying for a toy,
while his mother stands at the open car door.
She looks in the mirror,
and misses the way her lips
were once soft and pink
and how her husband’s eyes used to sparkle
when he told her he loved her.

Another corner:
children playing soccer.
Families lining the edge of the field,
wrapped in blankets.
I stop and listen for your voice on the sidelines,
cheering for your sister.
I miss the way your cheeks turn red when you’re cold,
the way you sang me to sleep,
and how your eyes curl like ribbon
when you smile.

17 September 2009

elegy

this afternoon i stepped outside --
finding myself in need of breath --
and between the passing of cars --
in my mind’s only empty corner --

perceived a leaf’s
flutter flicker
on a branch

tkksttttkksssss

i took a stick
and nudged it free
and it spun
awkwardly
haphazardly
a dusty moth
hell-bent
to the ground.

O
venerable leaf
your life cut short
by the season’s change
the shortening of the days
the tired, dark rotting of your skin
that used to be yellow and pink and green
now covered in black nail polish
and coarse white hairs
we pray you sweet farewell
on your journey
to god’s waiting arms.

in his name
we pray
amen!

aaaaaeeeeeyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeemeeeeennnnnnnn

this afternoon -- i stepped outside --
(i felt a funeral in my brain) --

“And hit a World, at every plunge
And Finished knowing -- then --”

then --
then --
then --

(Curtain falls).

14 September 2009

That Song We Missed

Back from the Monolith Music Festival, and writing a music blog thing to tell you about it. For now: Mental exercise by free-form poetry. I'm not incredibly happy with how this turned out, but I think its evolution is complete, so I'm tossing it out there anyway. Love/hate/whatever it.

Also. I'm posting it as an image, because I'm HTML-illiterate, and Blogger is fascist, and doesn't believe in creative spacing. Hope you can still read it.




08 September 2009

Black Square and Red Square

So you can call this a

warning shot.
test pattern.
tenative whisper.

hey what’s up.
demo tape.
sound check.
if you ever.
tributary river.
catalyst.

midterm essay.
non-fatal overdose.
down-payment.

dress rehearsal.
pre-emptive strike.
A before B.
less than three.
question mark.
low tide.

breath before a word.
calm before.
reading the launch codes.
knock-knock joke.
drumstick count off.

idea without words.

06 September 2009

Sonnet for rain--

the air grows thick and wet and all the sounds
start ling'ring in the atmosphere like smoke
in winter's freeze-- the clouds-- like brash young hearts
that fly across the bed-- now chase-- elope--
the air collapses, folds like crashing cars,
as clouds implode to tiny particles--
how gentle, o how fragile-- all these shards
of stained-glass shattered in the wet wind's swell--
they flick the ground-- they smack my tired face--
they leave their fingerprints across my chest--
a single heart-shaped spot-- near the same place
she left a teardrop last night-- safely pressed
within the chaos of the thunderstorm--
like all the tears on all the shirts we've worn-