Wednesday, May 27, 2020

barbed

barbs dig into my leg

they make a funny sound when i walk,      no,
an interesting sound

                                  enough so that i won't
remove them   
                      enough so that they'll slowly pierce

deeper into the skin

                                 buried there & 
                                                      enough so that
when i recall their presence

i'll allow them to feed on my flesh

consuming my life     leaving my memory

for dead.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

ice dream

the half of my life i never use

rising walls of ice    the street sign
motorcycles

                     revving btw glacial
hiway barriers

looking for someone that has no
existence
                no face

no dream 

Thursday, April 30, 2020

in the chamber was left one bullet

He pulled the trigger and your brains escaped

there was no magazine but the house rang
hollow after the quake

in the chamber was left one bullet

it burrowed itself into the wall
to die

the smoke took the form
of your youth drifting away

beneath the floorboards
the basement bathed in your blood

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

another one about mud

there might be people
still using it   
                     oh, nevermind
the rubber mat
over the doorstep

it's only there to cultivate
the mud
              that has no stench
only color
the color of decayed potential

a steady drain on battery life
the slow decline
                           of bolt and latch
sink of boot and shoe
never to meet what is
                                   hidden
beneath.

window pane

your starling

dressed in black     jumps off the heavy wall

it doesn't bother to open its

wings    surrounded by the buzz of

wasp and termite     Im the only one that watches

her fall

Thursday, April 9, 2020

Yesterdays

I.
in 2011 from the foggy shell
      eyes behind cages of tempered glass
glared out through ragged hair

II.
time is a passing thing
                                     life is not

there was nothing left unsaid

I think of you saying goodbye
resting on my lap

chin against chin

III.
I hope you know
I never wanted

                          to go

Monday, April 6, 2020

draft

in real time
I am watching a fence fall

it will take years
now there is less snow
the wind will pick up
the rain will wither

the cords tying it
to a sinking dead limb
grown on sinking dead roots
will not hold

there will be an end
an inevitable upheaval

the gates will flood
and the ivy will pour through
the forest will overtake
the carcass
the stakes will mold

the sky will be blue

Friday, March 27, 2020

V

Les Boutons D'or

Vines grow up the impression of walls
stucco white and twinkling with beads of light
your eyes of stars and blackest sky kiss the night
the arc of time and the old house of dew alive
your lips reflecting the blossom of endless white bulbs
the trees have been here for hundreds of years
but you and I are here tonight an ocean and see away
from home     brush strokes paint the story of your smile
a memory of many pasts, the canvas over my heart

Thursday, March 26, 2020

IV

the Vegetable Alibi

It looked like my rucksack
     in an alleyway
                             but in Gap, France
mildewed green canvas
   hand sewn patches

it slouched against a medieval stonewall

two Provencal cops hitch up their
heavy lead pants
                            interrogating the
owner of the bag about a head of lettuce
in his hands
                    how could he be eating such
valuable produce?
                              was it stolen?
your tattoos were backed by the Cote dAzur

they were here to give you
a hard time     sadly

your lettuce had an alibi
the market next door vouched for your
ownership

the cops tugged on their bullet proof
detective skill, 'don't be here when we get back,'

they said,

                 merci
you pulled sadly at your beard
to the rhythm of their footsteps     hiked
bag onto shoulder
its empty stomach sagging--

    c'est bon c'est bon c'est bon 

--to forage for another stretch of pavement
         in another sunless alley
in this decayed

somewhere

III

the Med. at noon

After eating sardines
at a cafe along the beach--
   
     the salty breath
of the sea
the salty fish scales
     fish bones
old world bones float on

--dip into
gentle rolling waves
a sea somewhat thicker and heavy
after lunch
                  lurching blue waves
saltier than I would have
imagined

II

Alps

What of me is part of this old world?
     sleeping
beside me in the car
                                 my wife
she is growing
    inside her
beside me
                 my son is growing

there is not a piece of me here
these mountains are strangers
they have lost me long ago

my ancestors
divorced you

I go forward through your passes
     they are like scarred tombs
   
 crossing the Alps I see
I am something new

even with your stony ancient glare
you could not know
me

Some poems from France I

Taking a shit

the first thing I did
as an

American in
France

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

umfiction

I have been sick
for over a week

the news tells me I have coronavirus

CoviD-19 it talks to me
all hours of the day

under order
I am home watching it talk

24 hours a day     I have congestion
that has left my throat and
found its way into
my nasal cavity

MSNBC has me waiting
for chest pain with every cough

when the narrative find me
I will be ready

I have been sick
for over a week

best case scenario
I will be able to blog
about my quarantine
in the new york times

Friday, March 20, 2020

Foreclosure

NOw
          there is no where to go

the clouds reflect our prison
like crumbled
                       aluminum foil

we cannot chew through
this metallic fog
                           the sparks
make lightning of our
teeth
         that chase the squirrels
away
         hidden beneath the earth
the seed is more important
than the disease
                         
                           noW yellow
daffodils droop over rotted
leaves
            coughing into graves
of potted earth
                         there is a distance
unassailable in our future

for the spring cannot
out wait the
rain

Tuesday, February 25, 2020

life.

never moving backward;

you run away from me with
this reckless smile
that sometimes I think is
the saddest beautiful smile because
there's something so fleeting
in watching it so spontaneously
and genuinely react and change
tongue pressed against teeth
the hissing sound of joy
of giggled air explosion
into uncontrolled laughter
and squeals

no moment frozen in memory
just continual movement forward
time's effort to leave me behind and
you won't even realize it
until you're old like me and you
see how like a mushroom I can
only be the stem and you looking
out from the bulb won't see
I've atrophied and pushed you
into the future where beneath
the shadows I watched you
grow and

                 even now the years have
begun piling up and soon you will
not remember what it was like to be
held and I'll always have that memory
like a phantom pain watching you walk
so lovely on your own but recalling
how it was in those beautiful days when
you needed me and raised your arms
to call for my embrace and breathed
the slightest sign of relief when your
head rested on my shoulder
and I could whisper in your ear
that daddy loves you