Long Metronomic Poems

At sixteen
People's Bible Church
sent me from rural Michigan farm lands
to Moody Bible Institute
in siren-screaming Chicago

Church fathers assumed,
despite curious evidence to the contrary,
that I was a StraightWhiteMale
born-again
wanna be choir director

Because I could sing with gospel appeal
and...

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Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
That sound, metronomic beating
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Is that the sound of my breath, my breath leaving my lungs…
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Or the sound of my voice bouncing off my echoing mind
Ba bum…ba...

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What is life now but the knowledge of death?
…the inevitable foreshadowing of oblivion, 
Rendered in shifting shades of grey on a desultory canvas, 
And scented with the musty odor of dusty bones, of mildew, 
Like...

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I live for vacant white nights:
devoid of stars and ocean hues,
a loose-leaf tainted ivory sky
that's just a whisper short of true.

Life's metronomic father points
his stale batons toward my mind,
though only to be broken down;
alone, I...

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Down these mean streets a man must go
  come shine, come rain, come hail, come snow;
a trenchcoat, gun and cigarette,
  with hardboiled charm and gumshoe sweat.
Pink neon signs light up the place,
 ...

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once our world had younger eyes,
time then moving slow;
now this present burning past,
as saplings, children grow;
what has been, was and
what would end,
small slices, measured time;
speak now ghosts of love and friends,

seeds of kindness sown in...

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I  cannot stand poetic forms
I like them less than winter storms
they force me into ancient norms
of rhyming words in angry swarms
for I was frightened by Haiku
in darkened rooms -- I cried --- boo hoo.

Then...

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stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath

climbing along the water's surface,
body turning on a skewer,
breathing bubbles,
exhaling fully,
metronomic to a viewer

stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath

fingertips, wrist and elbow angled
each below the other in turn
break the surface
then pushing forward
spinning the torso in return

stroke,...

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Written: April 08, 2024

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morphing into an appealing landscape,
gathered around a table...

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every illusion starts with a wish
or a hope perhaps, and mine is this
that I'm the hundreds of petals that remain
and with each petal lost I won't feel this pain

abundance is missed when eyes look to...

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A Waking Dream

She wasn’t perfect
none of us are
her face was lined with
experience and comfort
crows feet at her eyes
laugh lines in her smile
dark hair flecked with grey
pulled into a loose ponytail
walking with back straight
metronomic hips in...

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A poem old has verses wrapped in gold 
As rhythmic beauty pours from every line; 
A magic gift with music to behold. 

Sophisticated language ripe and bold 
Applied with master crafted strokes sublime; 
A poem...

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Thirty years on, across our globe, my daily ritual.
Alone, surrounded, marching silently forward,
the vast weight of humanity moving back and forth,
in an awkward dance, street theater for the masses.

A piano and a flute, emoting to...

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Studying the studying
staring back - heavy shiney black
on the coffin road - I stood in the gods
an imposing carrion crow perched
Johnny Cash of fauna
Studying the studying
piercing dark inquisitive eyes
scanning for a body - to beak...

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When her presence trod the oak-hewn boards,
barefoot on the bees wax, lyrical on the shine,
the cypress calm coughed ruffle of her dress,
soaking slapped applause, her heart raged saturnine.
Thus before the altar of the grand,
when silence...

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She watched him pluck the strings.
His fingers up and down the frets 
of her spine,
pulling out notes and moans
from deep within the cavity
of her hollowed-out chest.
Apollo’s golden lyre lulling the muses
beyond their sensibilities.
Grooves of passion...

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...inspired by 'The Subway' by Allen Tate


Beneath the surface battle wagons screech,
and hurtle through interminable night,
the squealing din, like harpies to the fight
becomes the threnody that screams to each
brave soul, squeezed tight in unforgiving heat.
The...

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I ran the blade under my thumbnail,
scouring dirt with the tip,
and stared aimlessly at the street.
Switchblade thoughts clicking,
metronomic stilettos on wet paving,
drawing closer.
In this sleeping wakefulness,
this illusion of life,
she never arrives;
waiting, as you do, for...

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Metropolis…
a cackling cacophony of confusion
energizing some and enrages others.
Concrete and steel giants,
loom forebodingly over the masses;
blocking out gifts of the sun.

The maze that tires me from constant searching; 
why am I here in this overcrowded...

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Somehow it seems the poems do not pass muster
The words a swirling dance that will not cluster
They deem themselves alone to be the fulcrum
That lets the lever lift them from the hum-drum

And midst the overflowing...

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Riding the rhythms of rolling wheels
Driving rusty rock desert miles
Purring pistons pumping power
To my mottled muddy jade jeep

A symphony sprung in my head
Dawning with dainty din of drums
Paving a path for piccolos
And rich rumblings of...

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May I Dance With You


They slide along the streets
waltzing, lost wanderers
safeguarded in the cloak
of anonymity’s invisibility.

Their eyes convey the darkness
of a night that lingers, holds
dawn’s edge of light at bay.

Cold moon of bloodied trees
traces their...

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i hate a night as this
minutes turning as the fan
slow and back again
metronomic 
lives slipped past each other
spotlights on dark water
arc light dimming
tenebrous
murmured civilities
faucalized voices
whispers in a wine glass
monosyllabic
days years months
rusting like old coins 
forgotten...

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