Sunday, October 8th, 2006

The Golden Field

Stings our naked legs:

The wind-crossed net

Of amber reeds, grasping;

The rasp of bundled seeds

Clinging, hushing,

Snapping and sailing.

We cannot be found

If we fall with the seeds;

Fall against the pillow

Of the late grass

With only one standing

And running,

Reeds grasping,

Seeds sailing

Into the circle of my cell,

Until my body hollowed hole

In the dancing gold is undone

By the thunderous joy

Of the boy who is "it."

We scatter and run

The whole golden day,

Sailing and falling

In the field of time,

Hiding and seeking,

And soon--too soon--

Hidden all too very well,

No matter how hard,

In the silver twilight,

We seek.

Monday, October 9th

Meadow Blossom

(Omitted for possible publication)

Tuesday, October 10th

Don't Ask

How do you not know yourself

Well enough to understand

That you do not want any answers?

If you ever did--If you ever could--

You might have heard--

Might have remembered--

The dozens already left

Twisted and clarified,

Dodged and refined

Until shocking us both,

The silence said it best.

Wednesday, October 11th

You Compel Me

Perhaps you should sue

So the judge condemns me

To return,

Orders me to the doctor

So they can check my blood

For signs of affection,

Stick my head in a tube

With magnets and nuclear dye

Lighting by brain red and blue

When I think of you,

Pierce my heart

With the needle of a polygraph

And shine guilty questions

In my eyes.

Pentathol, cudgels,

The crack of a whip,

Pliers, electrodes, a saw:

Undo me nerve by nerve

And scrape away all those parts

Where our love cannot be found

Unless if I find them first

And carve them away

Like the corners of fat

Trimmed from the meal

I make for someone new.

Thursday, October 12th

A Thousand Miles or a Hundred Paces

Where do I go today?

I don't freakin' well know.

I don't see a future

And when the here and now

Feels just as distant

I don't really much care.

Maybe out on a walk,

The same near sites

Tiring my legs

By way tiring my mind.

But stomping forward,

Kicking the path

Into submission,

Is such a distraction

That if I could push

The mildness of the air

Into a freeze, I might,

And feel better for it,

Skating along the curb,

Both feet planted firm,

Both soles going numb,

So wherever I go

I am saved.

Friday, October 13th

Love Takes the Light

The difference

Between sixty and sixty-one

He knew the day before:

The shape less hazy,

The brown less gray,

And all the world

Roiling with a bit less noise.

But today,

The fist of the vacant room,

The ropes of remembrance,

The weight of having no next step

Leaves him sitting still,

Still sitting,

Immutable.

Maybe somewhere inside

He thinks of himself

As a candle's wick

Now trapped in wax

Though he used to burn,

His flame leaping high

And tangling its light

With the breath

Of each moment

No matter how ghostly,

How gently, it passed.

And though it consumed him,

Perhaps that dripping flow

Felt to him enough

Until flame cuffed still

By a careless hand

He is only here still,

Still here,

Incredulous.

Saturday, October 14th

Gnawing at Bones

The trunk is empty.

She's in there,

So she knows.

For months now

Without a word

Or a breath.

He raps on the lid,

Pleads for an answer,

But doesn't listen

If ever he did,

She'd be at the window,

The curtain her veil,

The shift of linen,

The swarm of the street

Her orchestra.

He consults again

The trunk of his skull,

The bones of books.

He doesn't listen.

She's everywhere.

The trunk is empty.