Month: July 2005

• You Know What To Do (draft)

  The clouds’ applause trembles air to feet of twitching;
  “You Know What To Do,” they mumble-grumble/strike to me.
  “Yeah, yeah— You really are persuasive, y’know?
  You don’t have to answer that.”

  A conversation ‘mongst the towers unseen for shelter’s shelter
  rages in calm, tapping showers brought and bringing
  sense to edge of cliff a’bashed with ever-tidal tidings
  of sweetest elements’ harmonies.

  Another shift of light to shadow
  and lifted these thoughts grow to growth of storm beside and surrounding
  with such shatter-chatter, rasp-throated moans!

  Tumbling, these voices grown from sound to flicker
  broke and break the gentle cycling of the rain–
  the falling air left/right/straight/back in constant, uncertain lickings of the eyes
  as though to show the fury is
  but known/dependent on the travelled-travelling breath of all.

  July 26, 2005

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• Sitting for a bit with two Swiss

  Beyond the chit-chat, sit-back, relax talk Mom initiates,
  I fumble in thought and
  forget to speak when spoken to—
  They don’t seem to mind, though they may be
  polite in their inability to open me.
  The pace-cold sweat from pit of arm
  reminds the mind the world is before,
  not just inside and I smile to match theirs
  without knowing why except to feel as they do,
  to be as unafraid of exposure as they appear
  to trail word from thought so casually.

  July 26, 2005

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• Arguing at the intersection

  “Can’t you fucking see they’re waiting for us?
  Can’t you see the light is green,
  but the van refuses to move?
  Why are you just standing there? Here?
  We can cross!”
  I rush my legs to catch this thought—
  The light flicks red against the hood of some other car
  and I feel my heel trip in air but escape the oncomer—
  Mom walks, some paces behind, within the traffic,
  head held high and I begin to realize
  I’m not the only one on this road.

  July 26, 2005

  ---

• Progress

  I tripped
  while retrieving this,
  letting my thoughts,
  like a calling,
  stumble my way
  as I
  forgot the hamper was behind me.

  Prior, I
  shaved clean my
  soul patch
  and began to ponder,
  “what should be written?”

  The stalling of a parking lot’s progress
  mimicked me for a second—
  the fidget of eyes—
  and, within that epiphanic second, I
  found solace in the ruled-blue pages
  of this draft.

  July 26, 2005

  ---

• how to stop a smile from breaking

  for all i’ve done, i know you wouldn’t know
  how many cells in this brain hold memories of
  you and not of being there, not being able to
  unlock these chains of in-security, obstacles i
  never thought about all that much until you
  brought freedom to this servant of thought
  unlit and shining with reflections reflecting from
  you,
      you,
          you,
   
  i blame the sun for breaking one day as all;
  i blame the moon for showing change can come,
  go, come, go, wax, wane, wax, wane, rise, fall;
  i blame the breeze for showing tranquilities are
  commonplace, daily, forgotten until left or leaving;
  still, i blame the trees for waving without welcoming
  the birds, the squirrells, the nests unfurled and grounded
  without hands around to clasp them closer to a beating
  that drowns the world in
  second-
             silence-
                        second-
                                   silence-
                                              second-
                                                         silence-

  July 14, 2005

  ---

• there was an attic

  there was an attic
  limping/lifted, i crawled the stairs
  to find the memories forgotten yet there
  yet in this mind’s eye they will never leave for i know them too well;
  the roundness of the plastic,
  the bucking of the horse,
  the little lamb’s words so comforting still

  in this attic,
  this compartment box opened and sprawled with heat,
  in this attic laid all my dreams once given, now taken-placed from view;
  is it right to forget that which was so once wanted,
  so lived ’til forgotten in fore-given’ess?

  July 13, 2005

  ---

• these sweat’d flakes of ice

  these sweat’d flakes of ice fall prey to finger’s tidyngs,
  making art in art so clear,
  pushing from place ’til image nears
  and fallen these eyes become,
  as relenting thought’s forcings
  break ‘part the ‘cicles,
  paving way for unpump’d heart
  in journey from fill’d to froze to molten start.

  July 13, 2005

  ---

• with these whisper-wing’ed words i find

  with these
         whisper-wing’ed,
                             lacklust’ words
                                  i find nothing
                                          is as safe
                                                  in breeze
                                                      as mind.

  July 13, 2005

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