Press "Enter" to skip to content

Posts published in April 2005

how reach of mind,

how reach of mind,

                singe’d on thought,

                               reaches for lids,

                                           for eyes,

                                           for brow’n’cheek,

                                           for overflowen’d reservoir untouched:for throat,

                                                                                                 for breath,

                                                                                                 for words,

                                                                                                 for lung,

                                                                                                 for air upon wide-mouth gasping

oh, to trouth in bend of eyes,

                              to dampen these flamen’d roots grown inward

                                                                                       in heat of skin

                                                                                                  and all those ash’ed-streams

                                                                                                                      a’burn left raging

your rays

your rays,
  long, golding rays of Day’s Father,
   lay tame along your bare-blushed cheeks..

    oh, to grow them red, your cheeks,
     to lick with kiss left lingering,
      to unfold lips long chap’d
       with tongue’s lashings
        likened to striking-tip
         of quill..

          oh, how swift you lift eye from grounding,
           as though through limbs this gaze is floating,
            following the fall of your feet upon the carpet to
             your waist of hips rounded toward the floor
              and, facing cold restraint of rib with chest’s knocking loudly,
               this glance becomes but moment forgot-and-known in memory

having sat here

having sat here,

                before the unpainted canvas

                                               in its infancy,

                                                       i now find this sprawling thought

                                                                                          of ripen’d ink to be as

such World..                                                                                                     capsized vessel

        expanse unforage’d, for                                                                                          caught

                                      its use grows lost                                                                      on single wave

                                                         on flattened sea,                                                                 off coast of World A’New–

                                                                           this driven:violent invert land

                                                                                                               of voyagers

                                                                                                                   voyeuring–

shhhkt

shhhkt

 of gear-horn’d beast

                       in silent awe-glance

                                   toward faden’d dragonbreath

                                                         spiral-searching

                                                                     skyward

to be as …

   to be

          as

             shepher’d sheep

              on trodden ground in wont

              of given-grass

   to be

          as

             gulliver goat

              on errant way forage’d

              yet un-journey’d

a vpoet

okay. i’m pretty sure someone or i have tried to define a ‘vpoet’. even if i do define ‘vpoet’, the definition will alter greatly from anything i’ve done and thus would probably negate me using the term ‘vpoet’ as my moniker. but, the idea and basis for my writing is thus:

A ‘vpoet’ may be a ‘poet’ whose interaction with and observance of ‘this world’ is ‘virtual’, as though ‘disconnected’, while remaining fully ‘connected’ through ’emotion’ and ‘gravity’/’forces’/’life’/’the endless cycle’/’the way’/’all’/’curiousity’/’chance’/’?’/

Alternatively, a ‘vpoet’ may be a ‘poet’ whose major ‘influences’ or ‘mediums’ may include the ‘internet’ or other ‘technologies’.

When I Listened to the Learn’d Breeze

When I listened to the learn’d breeze;

When my antennae, the hairs, sway-fell against the skin;

When I was shown how miniscule is the breath, bound to land, divided by the air;

When I, laying, listened to the learned breeze on tips of grass shaded by the moon,

How soon, wayward, I became light and spiring;

Till catching break of air, I drifted off from self,

In prodigal-pulse’d sky, and with rise of breath,

Wave’d in feather’d touching of the stars.

if..

if the night were longer

i could hold you till the end of time,

watching the fireflies flicker

while their distant cousins herd slowly

across the pond of sky above us;

if the day were longer

i could take you across the world

with every kodak moment

to guide us to our next home of the hour,

never letting loose your fingers

because you’d never let go;

if our dreams were shorter

we could live them longer,

always catching up

on every new idea for how we could be together..

if this moment were longer

we’d be left smiling as this life passed us by.

is it

is it

sad

that i miss you

after the petals fly

and the trees fall?

is it

sad that i wish to be

the pants you slip into,

the shirt that holds you so,

the smile you show only

when you know

i’m not around?

is it

pathetic to think

when my eyes wander

they’re looking for you?

is it

pitiful to know

when i lay down

i want you to be

the sheets ’round me,

the pillow i grasp,

the wind that comforts me?

musings & scribbles