Wednesday, July 13, 2011

HOW DOES THIS GARDEN GROW



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

MIDNIGHT RADIO




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



Friday, July 1, 2011

WINTER FRUIT



(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

A MADNESS


(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