Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Portrait


We don’t take pictures of each other anymore.
Where did the dimensions go?
Am I someone you don’t want to know?
We shutter to the next frame
in this self-promotion game.
Narcissus and Echo lure my friends
to short distances
mistaken for great heights and necessary ends,
and as the surface wavers,
the clock impatiently ticks.
We deserve to expect more:
An unknown knock at the door.
A surprise of unspeakable grace
that can only be read on an other’s face. 

Monday, November 22, 2010

cautionary turn

Deep in the maddening crowd,
the lads kick a hooligan pass,
but you've started missing.
Not just the ball,
but the sound,
the throng,
the hum of vibration,
the energies of attenuated distance.
The overtones that require stillness,
near-silence,
the frequencies beyond grasping.
For, there,
you will find her,
them,
it,
all awaiting the grandeur
of your finally perfectly unique entrance.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Diplomacies of Black and White (poem)

When every touch mesmerizes,
(surfaces forever gleaming
in the rays of one's projections)
do not take the dark samsara
emanating from life's tragedies
for the alluring cloak of night's mystery.
For, although one is given
and the other chosen,
(which is which being your jurisdiction)
that would build pleasure
upon another's pain.
Refrain from judging rage
against the dying of the light
too harshly,
with its gauche angling
like awkward adolescent limbs.
Rejoicing in one's moments
(those homespun webs of significance)
delights all
if you can cease to
insinuate
victory.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

The Undermine

(written 1/29/08)

Winds of change are blowing,
kicking up leaves,
stirring this nest of tragedy,
sight overseen.
Kicking up logic,
forethought mistrusted,
consistency shallowed
and heartstrings busted.

Leaving me a desert,
the kindest desolation,
the chattering lies
of chosen isolation.

Wait for spring, child.
Rains come with patience.
Worth the wait beside the mesas
where it's been long believed
that dust harbors tricksters,
their havoc to be silenced
in the still calm coolness
of inner shade.

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