Best Buttresses Poems

heaven ...
is my prison ...
that dreamy, white tangle of
percale where your
limbs and mine weave sweaty magic -
a moon-daubed canvas of
pyretic passion, public ...
no shut-door, drawn-curtain modesty to
confine or make sacred ...
the danger of chance discovery is
our brush, our pigments but
blood ... water ...

  ...

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Unbelievable- Paris stopped breathing and even the world,
the cathedral spire shuddered, clung, trembling;
then, plunged burning and the crowd and the world itself,
wept, for the beautiful Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.

Construction of the cathedral began in 1160 to 1260,
a wonderful example of Romanesque French Gothic architecture;
I...

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28 Cracks In The Ceiling


I take my red-inked dagger in hand
And succinctly spew its secrets for all to see.
28 cracks in the ceiling, and I lost count.
There’s a storm moving out of the west.
I can smell the thunder and
The titillating turbulence of tintinnabulation.
An old lady...

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There was a time 
when men built for God 
great houses of stone and glass,
with Gothic towers reaching 
to scratch Heaven's belly....

In the great hall, 
beneath the bold flying buttresses, 
people felt tiny--
yet when they cast their eyes upward, 
they  thought: This is where...

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*
From a single word
the Divine bestows kismets
of gifts benign, as we look outside
 our tiny molecule of life and feel the roaming
breath of many realms
larger than our jagged existence;

that we are just one, one with beggars,
 thieves, prophets grains, stars… and that we
 will give...

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Beside a babbling brook I browse
By a bridge braving bleak winters breeze
Beaver is busily burrowing beneath 
Before bitter blizzards batter beaver’s bunker
Beaver beavering as he barricades the breach

Bedtime beckons before darkness befalls, but my
Bright my blue backpack bounces into the babbling brook
Begetting a bung of...

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My Home Is No Fortress

Speechless thoughts flow out as words when the drawbridge is upended 

                       From turrets they wind down and spiral...

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The grand, half-ruined Parthenon,
once a sublime, Doric grace,
Even now, in broken, stone blocks,
always takes my breath away.
The rich, classical detail,
fluted columns without plinths,
to imagine what it once was,
the mind can’t even begin…

That towering Coliseum,
the great masterpiece of Rome,
even half gone it’s staggering,
to be so tall,...

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Cronking ravens’ aerobatics 
between rock-pulpits leaning over,
grey disdainful gate-posts.
Our shouts echoed 
as we clambered like ants on a wall,
the lake a far glittering pool
in the dark sunken floor of the world.
On the saddle
buttresses of old hostile crags
hung vertiginously over an empty valley
where brown snaking streams...

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Standing at the edge of the canyon, 
its crest wreathed in swirling clouds of fog 
the tower looms on the plain, 
incongruous, like blood on a bridal gown.

Zedar has come to investigate. 
As Grand Sovereign of the New Republic 
he takes his responsibilities seriously, 
and...

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As Hollywood
Casts its rectangular light,
A lighthouse without rotation
That warns no-one
As our ships are bashed
Against the rocks,
Sharp, jagged rocks
Of protruding buttresses
And ledges
In our fall down the shaft
To the center of the earth
To Tartarus
We silently applaud
As we enjoy,
As we are moved,
As the swell of the surf
Under our...

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Still
beneath flying
buttresses of Notre Dame--
Polaroids shake
in their furious hands.
I wonder quietly,
tepid remorse
of stillness, mine
and its, will it illuminate
or dissolve in the light?...

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Synthetic satisfaction derived in the shade
On the edge of the page that defies the sage stage
Where wear and tear declare war to degrade the head
That buttresses my resistance and persistence to engage    

In conveying and purveying messages 
Between my avatar and the...

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Perhaps I am the privileged one
Perhaps the one who disqualified your vice is one like myself
For after all, if equality is truly to be achieved
We are to see the weaknesses and the strengths 
In the potential of all in harmony
Am I wrong?
Perhaps you are criminalized...

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Standing at the edge of the canyon, 
its crest wreathed in swirling clouds of fog 
the tower looms on the plain, 
incongruous, like blood on a bridal gown.

Zedar has come to investigate. 
As Grand Sovereign of the New Republic 
he takes his responsibilities seriously, 
and...

Continue reading...