The furniture contains the room,
Defining boundaries
Between here
And the unknown world
Where stories
Pass in waves no one
Can hear..
A woman has cleaned,
And a man defiled
This small life square
Space of gathering
And parting,
Storms and
Legs.
Standing on the roof
Of a hotel,
Watching as a city
Goes dark
To make way
For the fireworks
That burst below
In this upside down
World where
The tags on our clothes
Are worn on the outside
To announce our haste.
Copyright (c) 2011 by the author
So, yes, I burned
The bridge some twenty
Paces back,
No regret,
Without hesitation.
Anger, mixed with
Despair allowed me
To wash my hands,
Clean of a score
Of years of memory.
The links--
Once golden,
And highly prized--
Are covered with dust,
Consumed by
Cobwebs
Of silence.
I knew what
I was doing,
With an evening’s
Anger still in my head,
Simmering for hours--
Too hot to touch.
When I left,
When I lit the match
And watched the flame
Greedily devour all
Secrets, unbreakable
Bonds
That would forever
Separate me
From a childhood friend.
We weren’t kids
Anymore. We were
Building diverging
Lives where
There would be no
Spare room,
No empty chair,
No place to sleep,
Or talk
Until dawn.
Strangers, once, we
Are strangers once again.
Copyright © 2011 by the author
Iron-scented anger,
Metallic despair
Never ceasing
To flow,
To rush
Through miles
Of subterranean,
Subdermal tressels,
Content to move,
To cleanse,
To carry away,
Transport oxygen
Until
Emotion pierces
The sky
Allows blue
To become
Red,
Because words
Are not enough,
Tears
Are not enough.
Connections
Between
Thought and
Action are
Broken,
And reality
Derails.
Pain exchanged
For pain,
Heartbreak
For skin cutting--
Soul-slicing.
The body heals itself:
Why can’t the heart?
No answer comes.
Copyright (c) 2011 by the author
I want to
Plant stones,
And have flowers spring
To life in every color
Stolen from the rainbow.
Do the leprechauns know
That their gold is now exposed?
Beneath the stones
I plant, where seeds
Slough off,
Life awaits.
Without stones,
Where will I find fire?
Without fire, how do I stay warm?
Cook food?
Sterilize my implements?
Without rainbows,
Where will artists flock
To gather visions
From the muses?
Where flowers grow,
Stones gather--
Names carved deep,
Final messages written
Stones from flowers/
Flowers to stones--
Life discarded
By the faithful
For the future-perfect,
Life dislodged from its pedestal,
And shattering,
Giving birth
To small stones--
Seeds of all kinds,
All colors,
Genus--
There is no such thing
As a weed
Arising from this soil.
Wildflowers only
How does this garden grow?
Copyright (c) 2011 by the author
Pounding sound,
Percussive,
Persuasive
Propulsion
Instigating
Movement.
Instinctive retreat:
From a distance,
Perhaps
The pulse
Gains clarity,
Loses its threat,
Gains its value,
Recovers its beauty,
Recording its passage
A wave
To break
Against a shore
Somewhere
Distant,
And a harmony
Can be found
For what is now
Just Noise.
Someone feels a need
To share their playlist
As the calendar flips,
Digits roll,
Dreams meld, one
Into the next,
Windows are open,
Freeing this cacophony
To find its way
Out into
The cosmos,
Wave after wave
En route to
The beginning of time.
Billions of
Eardrums
Yet to
Be pierced.
COPYRIGHT (C) 2011 by the author
(for North Dakota)
The river dances
With power
Of melting snow
Along
And threatens
To overtop its banks,
To wash away
Levies of sweat equity
To take adverse possession
If only for two weeks--
Or maybe four,
Maybe six--
Before relinquishing
Its occupancy
Of houses, farms, fields.
Fear runs
As cold as the water,
As fast as the current,
Southward,
Eastward,
Westward--
Wherever
It can carve a channel,
Cut its way
Into the heart
Of a life
That it once
Bordered.
Cold, cruel fluid,
Moving quickly,
Carrying
Winter out of spring
And into summer.
They dream hopelessly
Of binding up
Wounds,
But wait
For winter’s fruit
To fall
Before new life
Can be replanted.
Copyright (c) 2011 by the author
(for Melissa)
Within the safety
Of madness,
No words need be spoken:
All doors and windows
Are secured,
Keeping the world at large
At beigh.
The words bounce,
Breaking down
Into syllables
Without meaning,
Sounds without
Translation--
There is no dictionary
For the pain,
The confusion,
The fear
And anticipation.
Not all doors
Are physical,
Wood or metal,
Accessable
Withselected keys
That hang from a ring.
No reasons,
No stories,
No contact allowed,
No affection,
No attention to be paid
To ragged rage,
Slender fear
That slithers
Up and down
The spine,
Along the tongue,
Entangling,
Eating wordswhole
With one quick snap,
Leaving
Bitter silence.
COPYRIGHT (c) 2011 by the author
Thank God
For the words
That keep
My blood
And bone
Safely contained
Within my skin.
Words on the page
Are equivalent
To a cut
Intentionally inflicted.
When the words
Won’t come,
This is when I am afraid.
Without language
To spill onto the page,
All my insecurities
Race back
And forth
Between
Brain and fingers
In search of
An exit.
Words--
His words--
Free me
From my demons,
From my hatreds,
From my loves,
From my hurts.
September 30, 2010, the last
Infliction,
My last relapse,
My last raising
Of questions
For which I had
No answer.
A public act
On the bus
On my way home
After my first class.
Why?
How?
No hiding--
I wore a sleeveless dress,
Cut myself on my shoulder
With my house-key.
I found blood--
I saw red--but
Was unsatisfied,
Uncalmed,
Unimpressed.
And so,
I stopped
Though the reasons
Haven’t changed,
The impulse still comes,
The emotions still rise.
“Leave me alone: I am
Enjoying this day,
This life,
This choice.
Leave me alone.”
And the demons--
They listen.
I do have power.
The curves
Around
Midnight
Lead,
Eventually,
Inevitably,
Seductively
To the precipice
Of dawn, night
Falls away,
Reminded that
It has to descend
In some other time zone,
Some parallel life,
The closing quotation mark,
The final word
Spoken somewhere
Over the horizon.
Somewhere,
Through an open window, a radio
Continues pulsing
Music though
The child it comforts
Has lost the fight
With sleep.
The music plays,
Favorite songs
Go unheard,
Commercial jingles,
The announcer’s voice
Trills out another
Advertisement
Selling everything
To no one
Until the daylight
Trips the alarm,
Day has arrived
To invade the dream world:
Gone, that conversation
With that person
Impossible to reach;
Gone, that visit
To that corner
Of the world;
Back, now,
To life as we
Know it,
As we believe it,
Ready or not,
Here we are,
Bruised
From the fall
From grace,
But breathing--
Still breathing.
