No secret poets are fond
of stars and dreaming --
of gazing and seeming:
using one's mind as a
portal, focusing crystal -- using
the heart, to capture as
a vessel, all that is clean
and unclean -- no flat safe
of a writer is he... daring
pens
wallows in dear slobbers
like bacterized faces of dog
lovers, equally affectionate scratches
he wincingly endures
as his feline shreds
making more opaque the steely
curtains purring deeper into veiled
folds of day and night --
unlike those
who keep the world
firm on proper axis turning,
the poet off tilts
transposes
confounds convention with broader
gyrating mystery, elevates to
novel royalty
that which would
otherwise remain
mere serviceable
far too primary
for his quaking soul
basic impressions of
dark and light --
Categories:
wincingly, imagination, literature, passion, poetry,
Form: Free verse
part 2 of 2
“How’s school going?” Annick asked later, moving some of my fly-away hair out of my face - a trace of the maternal in her solicitous fussing - but I liked it.
“Easy peasy,” I said, the lie warming me like an ember or black magic.
There’s no real sibling rivalry between us. Imagine you’re Beyoncé’s sister, what are the odds that you’ll eclipse Beyoncé? Yeah, it’s ZERO.
“Ha!” she laughs, “you are such a little fibber.”
“I am NOT,” I hotly say, but my defense is ruined by my laugh. “I’m doing ok - but it’s a lot,” I say, to erase the fib.
They’re ENGAGED!
I tried not to act stunned but I doubt I was very convincing. The news thumped me like a gust of wind. Suddenly, I knew. Our yesterdays were no more substantial than a story we’d read together growing up, that you can mourn and rejoice at the same time.
Otherwise it was a family lunch, although at first I was a bit nervous around Gerard. At one point Annick says, “What are you doing?” as the table gently quivered.
I smiled wincingly, “Making circles with my ankles,” I said.
Annick smiled knowingly.
Categories:
wincingly, boyfriend, engagement, holiday, humor,
Form: Free verse