I walk across the field.
In the distance, across the cold dew
The green grass and the fog too
The grey shadowy, blurry rocks
Holding the top of the ancient and unused well.
A deep breath in, of cold.
I feel warm inside though
I need only my own soul.
The tree line in the distance
Carves out a circle around me
A green bull’s-eye in a dream.
I reach the center.
I reach into my pocket
The jeans try to tear my skin
At the bottom of the pocket are stones
and I feel the round round cold.
I press it between my thick fat fingers
Pull and look at it; my head on a swivel
I seem like a giant, a freak to this pebble
The well now feels small.
I must, drop the pebble in the well.
Blood pushing backwards through a syringe.
My sneakers crush the bull’s-eye park
I take a knee and close one eye.
Ready to release to the mark.
I see the hole and release the atom pebble.
No breath. Don’t screw this up.
Tiredness hits and I fall
The world seems bigger than me again , I exhale.
I crush the trees and forest and crash to my side.
I look across from where I lie.
I see the loose hatch of wood and weed.
Brown and green: the colors of life
fill my blue right eye.
I focus on a fallen wood log
splintered in large sections. The blackness
between planks is deepening.
I stare and fall in.
Smaller and smaller
I can feel it pulling me in. I must remember
to look out for foxes at this size.
“I don’t want to go in!”
I jump away from the black and sit under the log.
It’s hiding me now, as I sit next to the leaves.
I tuck up my knees and in come the clouds of fog.
I shouldn’t have been allowed to play this game.
I will just hide now. The sun streak hits my forehead.
And I finally release.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Walking the Dog
“It’s time to walk again” I tell him,
He leaps off the couch
and stretches his legs,
Forepaws extended in front of him
I see his grip expand and contract as he rights himself and
We go out into the night.
A slow walk is best on nights like this
Cool nights, but not cold, Houston cool.
Careful southern breeze slowly saturating.
The apartments are a maze here in the city.
They are a metaphor of escape, and of hiding.
I can’t get out, but why would I leave?
He pulls me around a corner and my eye catches
A glimpse of intense light over the next building
“Wait what was that?” I tell him. He lifts his leg.
“I know it was the moon”, I respond
But there’s just
There’s just no way
Once he’s done my pace increases
I must see this
Could it really be?
Every turn around the maze
Met with another building in the way
I wish I could just leap
Into the black sky above
And prove what I saw
Up just above the building line
City like jagged teeth silhouetted
In front of a Goddess Yellow Moon.
I can’t though, I can’t escape these confines
Turn after turn, a building blocking or
Trees like curtains cover the final bow in waiting
Then a break, ahead 20 paces
I see a soft glow
Does the dog know what I’m after?
I look at him and he nods.
We march forward and find it
Soft yellow light kisses our foreheads
His pupils dilate and I raise my hand
To cover my own and squint at
The rays of a Goddess Yellow Moon
We are adjusted now and soak
In the careful southern breeze and watch
Even though we can only see her
Through a crack between two distant buildings
We are high above the streets now
No leash to tie us down
And we shiver together in the cool,
Not cold, Houston night.
He leaps off the couch
and stretches his legs,
Forepaws extended in front of him
I see his grip expand and contract as he rights himself and
We go out into the night.
A slow walk is best on nights like this
Cool nights, but not cold, Houston cool.
Careful southern breeze slowly saturating.
The apartments are a maze here in the city.
They are a metaphor of escape, and of hiding.
I can’t get out, but why would I leave?
He pulls me around a corner and my eye catches
A glimpse of intense light over the next building
“Wait what was that?” I tell him. He lifts his leg.
“I know it was the moon”, I respond
But there’s just
There’s just no way
Once he’s done my pace increases
I must see this
Could it really be?
Every turn around the maze
Met with another building in the way
I wish I could just leap
Into the black sky above
And prove what I saw
Up just above the building line
City like jagged teeth silhouetted
In front of a Goddess Yellow Moon.
I can’t though, I can’t escape these confines
Turn after turn, a building blocking or
Trees like curtains cover the final bow in waiting
Then a break, ahead 20 paces
I see a soft glow
Does the dog know what I’m after?
I look at him and he nods.
We march forward and find it
Soft yellow light kisses our foreheads
His pupils dilate and I raise my hand
To cover my own and squint at
The rays of a Goddess Yellow Moon
We are adjusted now and soak
In the careful southern breeze and watch
Even though we can only see her
Through a crack between two distant buildings
We are high above the streets now
No leash to tie us down
And we shiver together in the cool,
Not cold, Houston night.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Float Like Me
Who will float like me?
The vastness of it all can seem depressing to those
who won’t reach inside and realize that what’s amazing is
the simple act of being proves the gift.
The gift is the size.
The beauty, the size.
Where is God you ask?
He simply is
He is in the vastness and the smallness.
In a universe where nothing really ever touches anything else, what is love?
Passion?
And what are their archenemies hate and apathy.
I sit at my computer,
tip tapping on my keyboard,
room lit only by the light of my monitor
slowly and imperceptibly getting dimmer with each black letter.
Above me and around me the world of illusion I’ve built for myself
to try and live by the rules set down by those gone before me.
Chief rule,
stop feeling,
and always apologize for it when it shows up.
Not anymore.
I am tired of acting like a dam.
Holding back the passion for perception. I fear only
because I was told to fear. I will only be. Release
the dam and float like a leaf,
dead and decaying, hopeless to
fight and eventually break apart into uncountable
nothing
and
everything.
Who will float like me?
The vastness of it all can seem depressing to those
who won’t reach inside and realize that what’s amazing is
the simple act of being proves the gift.
The gift is the size.
The beauty, the size.
Where is God you ask?
He simply is
He is in the vastness and the smallness.
In a universe where nothing really ever touches anything else, what is love?
Passion?
And what are their archenemies hate and apathy.
I sit at my computer,
tip tapping on my keyboard,
room lit only by the light of my monitor
slowly and imperceptibly getting dimmer with each black letter.
Above me and around me the world of illusion I’ve built for myself
to try and live by the rules set down by those gone before me.
Chief rule,
stop feeling,
and always apologize for it when it shows up.
Not anymore.
I am tired of acting like a dam.
Holding back the passion for perception. I fear only
because I was told to fear. I will only be. Release
the dam and float like a leaf,
dead and decaying, hopeless to
fight and eventually break apart into uncountable
nothing
and
everything.
Who will float like me?
Grow Up
Simply secluded softness of sorrow
Lame feeling really
Regret filled wrinkles of rage
Just immaturity
Ear slapping cries
Battery acid tears
Grow up
Lame feeling really
Regret filled wrinkles of rage
Just immaturity
Ear slapping cries
Battery acid tears
Grow up
Embers of Regret
Embers stoked by regret
Time doesn’t matter tonight
These eyes won’t close
I wish I could forget
The pain of losing that fight
Victory was so close
Something else won’t let
Me move on into the light
It’s not something
It’s someone
And no one’s here
But me
Time doesn’t matter tonight
These eyes won’t close
I wish I could forget
The pain of losing that fight
Victory was so close
Something else won’t let
Me move on into the light
It’s not something
It’s someone
And no one’s here
But me
Black Shadows
Black shadows swiftly sail across the carpet
Stand behind me quietly
I can feel them sometimes, not always
Their charcoal fingers touch lightly
Who are these lost souls I ask myself?
Why must they torment me?
They are me and he invited them.
Stand behind me quietly
I can feel them sometimes, not always
Their charcoal fingers touch lightly
Who are these lost souls I ask myself?
Why must they torment me?
They are me and he invited them.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Angel of Memories Lost
Innocence or not is on the chopping block today
The call is made and he starts his way down to the streets below.
They see her and feel frenzied
They hate her
She might have been aggressive, naïve, mean
But she doesn’t deserve what they intend.
He makes it on to the streets in time to see her taken away.
He checks his watch, nods and follows.
She’s worried, then terrified, she prays
At home, a young boy sits in class and asks
Why does God let bad things happen to good people?
I don’t know Son, I don’t know.
He finds her tied down crying and kneels next to her.
They don’t see him, he is sent from elsewhere.
Angel of mercy for the righteous.
Angel of sleep for frightened.
Angel of memories happily lost.
His hands cover her eyes.
She slips into shock.
Justice will be done he whispers.
The call is made and he starts his way down to the streets below.
They see her and feel frenzied
They hate her
She might have been aggressive, naïve, mean
But she doesn’t deserve what they intend.
He makes it on to the streets in time to see her taken away.
He checks his watch, nods and follows.
She’s worried, then terrified, she prays
At home, a young boy sits in class and asks
Why does God let bad things happen to good people?
I don’t know Son, I don’t know.
He finds her tied down crying and kneels next to her.
They don’t see him, he is sent from elsewhere.
Angel of mercy for the righteous.
Angel of sleep for frightened.
Angel of memories happily lost.
His hands cover her eyes.
She slips into shock.
Justice will be done he whispers.
Where are you?
Where are you?
A question asked always anticipating a story not a location.
Tell me a story.
What?
I said, “where are you?”
Gather around me, and I will tell you.
A question asked always anticipating a story not a location.
Tell me a story.
What?
I said, “where are you?”
Gather around me, and I will tell you.
Goodbye Drummer Boy
A drummer off stage, small and weak, crying
The stage erupts with syncopated symphonies of happiness
Outside in the snow, away from the sound
She feels his hand in hers, their speed increases
He loved her, with the full insanity you only get once
The trumpets join in flat and aggressive
They run into his car, hearts beating fast from
The thrill of being together…good bye drummer boy.
The stage erupts with syncopated symphonies of happiness
Outside in the snow, away from the sound
She feels his hand in hers, their speed increases
He loved her, with the full insanity you only get once
The trumpets join in flat and aggressive
They run into his car, hearts beating fast from
The thrill of being together…good bye drummer boy.
Tonight's Menu
Arthritic fingers slowly squeeze the thumb tack pencil
Shooting pain met and pushed back down by love and necessity
Pushed out through the fingers, strength and a tighter grip
The page in front of her…this last page she will fill
70 years prior the flow of thoughts gushed again
Ink poured from her fingers in a deluge on the page
The rain came down her arms, down her neck,
Its genesis in the cloud, thick and rich in her brain
The clouds now, wispy, cirrus high above
Ice crystals from another world as she sits on a hill
Looking up at them wondering of days gone by.
Will she have the strength to pull them down. Love
is what calls her, beats of the city streets ring,
the seams of the bridges, bouncing, the rhythm
the slow legato of Sunday and the heavy fast tap
that is the kitchen she loves in full swing.
Shooting pain met and pushed back down by love and necessity
Pushed out through the fingers, strength and a tighter grip
The page in front of her…this last page she will fill
70 years prior the flow of thoughts gushed again
Ink poured from her fingers in a deluge on the page
The rain came down her arms, down her neck,
Its genesis in the cloud, thick and rich in her brain
The clouds now, wispy, cirrus high above
Ice crystals from another world as she sits on a hill
Looking up at them wondering of days gone by.
Will she have the strength to pull them down. Love
is what calls her, beats of the city streets ring,
the seams of the bridges, bouncing, the rhythm
the slow legato of Sunday and the heavy fast tap
that is the kitchen she loves in full swing.
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