A deep, delicious ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ earth and sky --
A gracious ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ wakening,
The morn has been ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ restless ¦¦¦¦¦
In which the pulse ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ran ¦¦¦ high
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ its heart went nigh
¦¦¦ bursting with delights ¦¦¦¦ uttering:
Now--as an o'erjoyed child ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
All falteringly at play, ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ pictures of a fairy-tale
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dreams ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ comes o'er the day
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ silence wherein all sounds fail
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ sounds of some roundelay . . .
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ effort ¦¦¦¦¦¦ may avail --
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the dozer sinks away.
(Blackout of A Noon Interval by James Whitcomb Riley)
If I return to the drink I meant to quit
emptiness waits
Yet the soul grows thicker
why
Even if liquor knows where it belongs
it must be taken alone
like a wolf
Tracing the time that slipped away
what I had to hold on to
was the hour of drinking
It spoke of shedding the shell
worn thin by years
cradling the bottle
and speaking of Palau
The crumpled self
boarding the airport bus
did he shed his skin
Why I let that dim self go
even when I ask the rain
I still do not know
Typecast pivot rips past apart
Scars inflicted by the furnace
Scatter derma with war stars
Astronomy faraway magnifies
Little shards of light filaments
Filtered shadow breaks brittle
Tucked amongst terra, tubers
Crowd needy until seeker turns
Space ahead academy shunned
Parallel gripped group tightens
Outrage stoops, begger’s plight
Entombed below fossilised earth
Dust skull sockets consumed
Grazing on ash grain garbage
Gamma ray gardener unfazed
Leans into lambent movement
Moonbeam harvest penetrates
Microscopic split creates twins
Mind unbound by tribulations
Scales ether, nova knowledge
Constellation inured in growth
Reaches for chaos, apex prime
Shivers bravely beyond Pluto
Fragility faces future undiluted
First of October
Flying Over
He was a tramp steamer mate,
She an Amsterdam whore
That he met in a street bar
On a few hours leave ashore.
They pretended they were lovers,
Maybe a new husband and wife
And, just for a few hours tried
To live a day in that life.
He wined her and dined her
Tried to do everything right
Booked a hotel room
Just for that night.
And she played her part.
Even whispered his name,
Maybe for a little while
Even forgot it was a game.
When he left her in the morning
He said I’ll see you again;
She nodded as she walked away
But neither said where or when.
There at the beginning of the day's edge
or late in the day, early in the night
they missed each other
coming and going, brief interstice of sun and moon...
time to love...!
I
When I knew I am but space
When all bodies are distilled
We learn only space filled
Us, with energy as interface
II
Death separates birth and birth
We never learn this at school
Ask a wave its beginning (Fool,
I am, until water said "I'm first")
endless
boredom,
isolated
renditions
survive
to provoke
enchantment
end route....
intrepid
segments
juxtaposed
with irony...
a mocking
presence
meagre..yet..
subtle,
idiomatic
syncopations..
...to frustrate as
I deliberate
a tapas interval
tiny portions to while away the time
of stressful day
8/1/2015
The Interval
I drank a city, the smells , the debts,
the clouds of shutting doors and shuttered
widows (and widowers)
their new TV’S, the dream drug
that takes away your mind,
your place:
some police look at you like your about
to die, or something like that
and I return to the interval ( a Beckett play ?)
I wait for the clouds and the
shuttered cast to pass by
Till now,
You didn't answer
My many letters sent.
No reply to my hearts' longing.
Elegant words devised for response failed.
Now, who is knocking on my door?
You, grinning sheepishly.
Gone, my gloom, then
Till now.
They vie out in dim farm-fields,
the smoke and the stars.
Not for touch, blood, or gold;
just a hundred seconds more.
I am awake so I must decide.
it’s unfair,
she said,
we both know that.
And what responsibility isn’t
I had said.
I yawn and drive past the dead deer on Millersport Highway.
Great.
It’s not her.
It’s me.
Stopped;
but the day is never that,
is it.
Two pages later and two poems in between,
The bench we sat on and I.
My heart sold, but not bought,
Remember the rain, and we got caught
It was never so lovely, or welcomed
I have tried, but only cried,and
My tears overwhelmed the rain.
Two pages later and two poems in between,
The bench we sat on and I.
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