POEMS FROM 1992 - Freshman/Sophmore in college
Enigma 13Feb92
masks without expression
skies without stars
one in the same
beside the quartz-shot stone
images of grandeur
gathered from the dust
manic tears of laughter
wisp of a friend's touch
knowledge without sense
love without hearts
bodies twist for nothing
beside the quartz-shot stone
mystic lover fallen
Nirvana can't be reached
flames from Hell aspire
hands that can't unclench
Priestess without rite
Shaman without guide
one in the same
beside the shattered stone
Morning 13Feb92
Kisses in the morning -
after we brush our teeth of course -
do not make love
regardless of what you think
rolling around under the covers
is never more than lust.
Hubert 19Feb95
"Do you like that
my military friend?"
It is so important to me
you like the poems
that I choose,
that I like, too.
You must -
do you hear -
accept the things I like;
love them as I love them.
After all, I chose these
within the thoughts of my class
within the thought of you.
Isn't the syntax great?
And aren't you in awe
of one who can write so well?
I feel this poem
within my soul -
VIBRATING!
Don't you feel it too?
Please,
Don't disagree...
Don't say I am wrong.
love poem 21Feb92
You told me to write a love poem
something "from the heart"
and let me tell you,
I tried.
I thought of those I have kissed
and then of those I've touched.
They did not provide
enough "love" to write a poem on.
Some are too old to remember.
This one is too new to capture
within the words of a page
and perhaps imprison.
Searching 24Feb92
I am searching through the world
for a path that will lead me safely
through the vineyards of bitterness
to a place where I can find my soul
I am searching for the piece of self
that I was born without
through some great cosmic mischance
the piece that will make me whole
completing what Chaos has begun to tear
I am searching for a hope
that tomorrow will not be like yesterday
with its aches and tears
that made me chew my fingernails
until blood came to the fore
I am searching for someone
who can answer the questions
that have plagued my mind in eternity
that I have asked for so long
never finding a clue
I am searching for the man
that stole my dreams away
with promises of golden peace
I've found to be only pyrite
shattering at the least blow of fortune
I am searching for a unicorn
and a star-spangled rainbow
that can carry me away from here
to an elsewhere of gentle spring rains
on soft green grass
I am searching for all the parts of myself
that I have lost on other searches
for things not as important
as what I lost...
...searching
for things not important at all
Greed 11Mar92
your greed
beside my greed
forms one awesome greed
that consumes the universe
Farm Life 19Apr92
crouching above You
milking the bull
i wonder
do You know that it is me
would any other
female in the world do
hands behind Your head
You glance down at me
checking up
god forbid that i stop
that i choose not
to continue that is
if god is a he
if god is female then
i'm sure she'd understand
i ask You
what do You see?
Beautiful blue eyes,
in a beautiful face.
i guess i am not
surprised that
You did not see tears
hidden in that clear blue
behind matted lashes
what are You thinking?
i ask another question
About you. How much I love you.
then You thrust into me
symbolically i suppose
it is Yourself within myself
realistically it is flesh
sheathed in latex doubt
misgivings christmas wrapped
i cannot help but wonder
do you have any idea
what's happening within me?
a steel laugh serrates my mind
and i no longer care
It is 3:30.
By four, I can have the dishes done.
Music II 09May92
Whisper of a memory
as you ride the music
rising falling on the beat
touch the staff to hold your place
live the rhythm
to excise all else
save the ebb and flow
of notes
throbbing
open your mouth to sing
giving desperation voice
let the music rise to the stars
burning hot suns
Coffee 06Jul92
the past molders and fades
as eternity turns on the dime
picked up by an old man
searching for money to buy
a morning cup of coffee
He can barely see by dawn
and dimming street light
His bones are cold clean through
and he hopes the coffee -
along with a shot of Blue Ruin
will kindle fire in the empty pit.
For when fire deserted
smothered by cynical ashes
from childhood dreams
emotion and comfort withered
The old man thinks to warm himself
though coffee and Ruin don't always help
But perhaps today the Sisters will be kind
A dime might be in the gutter on Fifth
the day might become warm
until his breath no longer reminds him
of ancient smoke, rising fog, or wheezing lungs
and his ruin might be just around the corner.
Elven Spell 27Aug92
This night the dark elf dances
beneath a dragon moon
I watch from my window high
amidst the fog lit gloom
I see the spirals turns and leaps
contortions of a fiend
hear his echo in my soul
wail of a bane-sidhe scream
I linger at my window sill
the pane of crystal ice
my finger on the slippery blade
dark blood upon the knife
The stiletto slides away
I shatter the window pane
& there upon the narrow ledge
the dance begins again
How 31Aug92
You wanted to know
how to tame that "wild muse"
create a picture of emotion
from musty past and moldering present
you wanted to know
the reason behind the silver knife
I didn't know the answer
because I was wrapped in cliché
and arrogance
I guess I thought
the words simply came
a vomiting of emotion
or perhaps,
like fusion of atoms
or lightning
I was wrong
Maudlin crap comes
that way
not poetry
poetry might
start in a flood
but it ends in sweat
and sleepless nights
The Man Who Painted Cats 03Sept92
You
i'm starting to draw You
pull You from the mere
You prowl
demanding - form
You will not let me rest
i spend hours
kneeling over the pad
lying upon the floor
You stand over me
watching me
5 times You make me
re-draw your mouth
until it curls
with a catling smirk
* * *
i sketch Your eyes
till i grow dizzy
see eyes spinning
Your eyes -
those unfinished eyes -
stare at me
i wake to my hands
sketching air
that smile
gleams at me
Your eyes are finished
slanted
cat eyes
piercing me
through the dark
i cannot sleep
* * *
i begin
color today
blue for Your eyes
silver for hair
rose for lips
yes
that's it
You are pleased
i feel
Your finger tips
resting on my back
in approval
* * *
You are finished
Your eyes
stare
they are still staring
close them
i
must
rest
thank You
No!
They Open
silver -
i painted blue
smirks
laughs
mouth opens
"Rest, Painter."
Radio Voices 05Sept92
"Someone in Tucson, AZ has been painting red shoes on the people in Pedestrian Crossing signs. Says one of the officials involved with the case, 'At least they're only tap shoes.'" - heard on the radio
Who are you
with your little finger
dipped in the blood of creation?
Why do you create
in this awkward way?
Perhaps as a child
you lived within the dirt -
as Adam did -
raucous noise of sirens
piercing every night
cats that prowled
for your food
in trash pails
and more dust
soot and ashes
mixed with dirt
and sleet
caked mud
upon tiny feet
Is this why you
give them shoes?
You could have been
a dancer
whose dream of
point, jazz, tap
went awry
a fall and a crack
one snap to shatter
one dream
or, perhaps
you saw too much dirt
weighted down by the dust of thousands
could no longer
swim the music's flow
The memory of music
would be enough
to compel you to try
in that clumsy way
to give them what
you no longer have.
Is it that you give
them your dreams?
Roots 15Sept92
mother comes in
to say prayers
hands twine
in a study of old and new
one set scratched
arid mountain soil
until hands turned to
tough gnarly roots
of the Cyprus tree.
The other set's
soft and fragile
a delicate framework
of bone-lines
and flesh-canvas
this set is like
the tendrils of the
creeping rose
smooth
searching for a hold
unweathered by storm
or drought's barren touch
not yet stiffened with age
grizzled washed-out roots
shield the small green vine
as old is twined about new
in an embrace of farewell
and acknowledgment
Jeffrey's First Autumn 21Sept92
little brown dog
cowers upon fallen leaves
haunch-bone deep in ooze
dripping red
child alone
under skeleton tree
watches the pup
hungrily
The Faerie Princess 29Sept92
nestled within the root cavern
beneath a giant redwood
you curl away from life - shiver
Your face is frail
like old thin lampshade
from Auschwitz
Cheekbones razor-edged
through opaque veneer
that blood fled long ago
Your mouth presses tight -
a lampshade seam
to keep your soul prisoner
hands grip the tree roots
hard enough they crack
letting blood escape the barricade
and sunken eyes
guarded by barbed wire
replay all the German years
Frog Prince 30Sept92
green legs that pulse
contract expand
leap to another place
wetness of clay
cool slick and soft
smothering mortal cares
beneath the leaves
you hide from the
girl and her golden lure
Anniversary 02Oct92
I saw you the other day
walking with her
your pot belly bobbing
in rhythm to her swaying hips
your silver-grey hair
beside butt-long pyrite
I wanted to scream at you
to remind you of our sons
in that fancy college
of our house that we built ourselves
the garden we planted together...
I wanted to remind you
of all the things you left
for Satan's own woman-child
I wanted to touch you
to brand you
so she'd know...
I saw that curl of hair
a-creeping cross your face
I struggled to hold
my Judas hand down
but lost as it brushed air
I wanted to talk to you
to make things right again
but you both saw me
and turned the other way
My mouth became bitter
I knew rage and hate
and love and jealousy
as I stomped the ground where
your shadows had twined
on thick green grass.
Puppet Master 05Oct92
"It's an exercise of trust."
To prove I trust you,
I let you blind my eyes,
take my hand,
control me.
You become Gepetto
when you take my eyes.
and I a wooden Pinnochio
never to come to life.
the weaver 17Oct92
i wanted to reach out
find a word
card it spin it weave it
into a blanket to warm me
but my hand turned green
became claw of the dragon
that devours the moon
and tears worlds
when it turned on me
as nightmares tend to do
we reeled through the sky
locked in combat
spinning through words
tangling the yarn
Haiku 20Oct92
I.
Mountain stream in dusk
a doe drops her head to sip
ruffles the water
II.
Evening frost flakes shine
underneath the dragon moon
turning to crystal
Dawn 10Nov92
midnight optimists
wake to morning's
guillotine rain
drowning daisies
in scarlet kisses
the aristocrats
bestow upon one
another behind
green lace fans
as they line the wall
awaiting their autumn
and crumbling cake
for their peasant flocks
to peck at
if common bread is
too coarse
for common taste
the peasant flocks
leave a few crumbs
for hansel to follow
to the gingerbread house
of the rain witch
who sent her dragon
to feast on the sun
Spilt Milk 14Nov92
"Even God cannot change the past."
or so Agathon said
so why do you even try
you cannot cry over spilt milk
0r if you do
nothing changes
the milk is still on the floor
or if fate's being contrary
on the brand new carpet
that doesn't have stain guard
and crying doesn't change anything
definition 14Nov92
a shadow
deliberately smashed
in rage or anger
a malicious smile
married to an
adamantine laugh
kiss of winter frostbite
sting of wasp or
fire of electricity
smell of burning
hair dryer, red roses,
mold of cigar smoke
taste of unsweetened
chocolate, of vinegar
the shadow this side
of Eden
scenery 14Nov92
I. Country
a child sits by the roadside
covered in dust
the tree over the child is barren
as barren as this eroded land
overhead fireflies
light the sky as if to make up for
the absence of stars
she stares with gaunt eyes
at something from the past
II. Mountain Town
a child in a playground
stands alone by the fence
like a Japanese in '42
she, like her mountain cousin
stares at the others
playing hopscotch
jump rope and tag
aware of the rule
that forbids her to play too
III. City
a child with sticks for legs
and a balloon for a stomach
sits in the middle
of fourteenth street
playing with shells
from last night's drive-by
thinking there are enough
to make a necklace
Grandmother Poems 16Nov92
I. Ones On the Hill
The girl,
no more than twelve
or thirteen
followed her husband
as he led her
over the mountain trails
When her belly swelled
she feared...
When birth-time came
her body threw out the child
and she fixed dinner
for her man
She was young
and she wanted to play
with her dolls
her husband turned her
over his knee
lashed her good
so as she'd take care
of the child
and fix him his victuals
She died young
that one did
he buried her here
where they'd settled
and found himself
a corn-bred wife
to hold up better
All three of them
are up yonder
on the hill
they were the first
others followed them
till the rows filled
with young'uns
dead of fever
or the wastin' cough
measles, flu
or snake bite
II. Ol' Zeke
Ol' Zeke
he's up there too
he was the one
God called home
after he'd visited
just a bit
he was in the den
lookin' at the storm
a-comin' in
when his childr'ns
called to say prayers
he put a foot
to the ladder
to go up to the loft
and God's Hand came in
through the kitchen
down the hall
and struck him dead
before he reached the second
we always thought
he was an upright man
but were certain after that
surely God called him home
on account of his goodness
III. Courtin' and Birthin'
Your grandfather
came a-courtin
when I was 16
we married when I was 17
He was a fine man
a preacher-man
and he made a good livin'
got $25
a pig
50 pounds of flour
and a new suit every year
That was plenty then
before the kids came
Doloris was the first
Darlene next
then Junior, Wendle, and Willa
David was last
I had Doloris when
I was 19
She was the hardest one
I was young
and small across the hips
She didn't come easy
I birthed Darlene
when I was alone
it wasn't hard
she came pretty quick
Junior, Wendle, and Willa
gave me no trouble at-all
When I was birthin' David
I had to keep the fire going
it was 10 below outside
and there was no one else
but then
you did what you had to
IV. Whyfor
Listen and remember
so you can give the stories to your children
like the stories were given to me
listen so you can let your children
know where they come from
so you know what was once important
and what is important still
monsters in the closet 18Nov92
now i lay me down to sleep
i pray the lord my soul to keep
let the light shine down on me
keep me safe oh god i plea
hay men
bless
mommy
nanna
betsy
and
poppa
Sweetheart, you forgot
to bless Daddy.
bless daddy
tuck me in mommy
tuck me in safe
There now, all tucked in.
Sweet dreams, goodnight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
The room is pitch.
Jenny can't see
through the peephole
she fashions
so carefully
in the blanket
wrapped about her
mummy-like.
She fancies that
the shadows darken,
sidle up to the bed.
The house settles
and she shakes
like the wasp
she saw yesterday
I heard it
the closet doors opening
monsters are coming
theyre gonna get me
pull me into the dark
forever
no
if i cant see you
you cant see me
if i cant see you
you dont exist
there arent any monsters
mommy says so
She tries to drown
out the footsteps
coming closer
stopping
please no
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
you cant get me
you cant pull me away
the blanketll keep me safe
nanna made it
if i cant touch you
you cant touch me
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
if i cant touch you
you cant hurt me
nanna made the blanket
it keeps me safe
She feels the blanket
being pulled away
NO
please
you can touch the blanket
but you cant touch me
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
please dont hurt me
Sweet Heart, shh.
It's all right.
Daddy's gonna keep you safe.
The monsters are in the closet.
They can't get you.
They can't take you away.
making love 25Nov92
you tell me it was making love
when it was nothing more
than rutting in the dark
like Lady Brach and her swain
it was a fuck
two people using each other
feeding off each other
like desert wasps
aware of the use
reveling in it
you tell me he is a gentleman
he took you to dinner
but you paid
you say the whore's motto
"a favor for a favor"
and do not know a favor
was once associated with chivalry
with honor and ladies and knights
you'll never understand
he is a gentleman
because he did not rape you
like the last one did
nor does he sweat
like a stuck pig
soiling your pristine white flowered sheets
he does not throw you to the ground
and shove himself into you
as is his right
this makes him a gentleman
you tell me you'll marry him
even though he hasn't asked
because he is a gentleman
he loves you
he treats you like a lady
not like the whore
your father made you
and if he is not enough
there are always those
who aren't gentlemen
picture 08Dec92
She holds a camera
flush against her face
taking a picture of her image
and all that is behind
her eyes squint
as if she is searching
the mirror for an answer
to the question that has
just begun to surface
her mouth is lined
as she concentrates on
marrying the ambiguous
to her film
and instead captures
herself
Dressing Up 08Dec92
the young girl
plays at being
older than her years
puts on her mother's face
to go with the pearls
and colored paints
in golden tubes
brushes her hair
to the finest sheen
like she has seen her mother do
countless mornings ago
parts it straight centered
so it falls even on either side
tucks bangs that
hang to her waist
puts on the wedding dress
made by Nanna
in 1943
runs her fingers over the silk
as she has been taught
straightens a wrinkle at the chest
and wonders if she'll ever fill it right
thinks she's beautiful
and goes to daddy
so he can tell her
so he can swing her up in his arms
and dance a wedding waltz
tell her they're married
forever
till death do them part
he pulls out a camera
tells her to
"kiss
the camera"
she just tilts her head
looks at him
through her eyelashes
lets her hair flow
and smiles a woman's smile
Poem From a News Article 11Dec92
Split apart and
now reunited
they begin the sins
of their fathers anew
They spill more blood
upon sodden land
spatter everything
destroy as they go
Did no one learn?
Rebellion 23Dec92
It begins.
Exhausted nation
falters under twin burdens
of time and disease.
Monarch - like nation,
abdicates
when resistance
is no longer
a matter of strength
or desperation.
Peasants explode
in earthquake tremors,
protesting
hours
minutes
seconds
that further their tasks,
taxing them still.
Army mutinies,
refuses to trod the trails
it has marched
thousands upon thousands
of times before,
stops dead,
congeals the others
to its plans
for revolution.
It ends
with empty peace,
when there is nothing
left to fight for -
when all that is left
on the battle plain
is fodder for the flower...
The Red Flower
that consumes even despair
and leaves only ashes
ghosting upon the wind
masks without expression
skies without stars
one in the same
beside the quartz-shot stone
images of grandeur
gathered from the dust
manic tears of laughter
wisp of a friend's touch
knowledge without sense
love without hearts
bodies twist for nothing
beside the quartz-shot stone
mystic lover fallen
Nirvana can't be reached
flames from Hell aspire
hands that can't unclench
Priestess without rite
Shaman without guide
one in the same
beside the shattered stone
Morning 13Feb92
Kisses in the morning -
after we brush our teeth of course -
do not make love
regardless of what you think
rolling around under the covers
is never more than lust.
Hubert 19Feb95
"Do you like that
my military friend?"
It is so important to me
you like the poems
that I choose,
that I like, too.
You must -
do you hear -
accept the things I like;
love them as I love them.
After all, I chose these
within the thoughts of my class
within the thought of you.
Isn't the syntax great?
And aren't you in awe
of one who can write so well?
I feel this poem
within my soul -
VIBRATING!
Don't you feel it too?
Please,
Don't disagree...
Don't say I am wrong.
love poem 21Feb92
You told me to write a love poem
something "from the heart"
and let me tell you,
I tried.
I thought of those I have kissed
and then of those I've touched.
They did not provide
enough "love" to write a poem on.
Some are too old to remember.
This one is too new to capture
within the words of a page
and perhaps imprison.
Searching 24Feb92
I am searching through the world
for a path that will lead me safely
through the vineyards of bitterness
to a place where I can find my soul
I am searching for the piece of self
that I was born without
through some great cosmic mischance
the piece that will make me whole
completing what Chaos has begun to tear
I am searching for a hope
that tomorrow will not be like yesterday
with its aches and tears
that made me chew my fingernails
until blood came to the fore
I am searching for someone
who can answer the questions
that have plagued my mind in eternity
that I have asked for so long
never finding a clue
I am searching for the man
that stole my dreams away
with promises of golden peace
I've found to be only pyrite
shattering at the least blow of fortune
I am searching for a unicorn
and a star-spangled rainbow
that can carry me away from here
to an elsewhere of gentle spring rains
on soft green grass
I am searching for all the parts of myself
that I have lost on other searches
for things not as important
as what I lost...
...searching
for things not important at all
Greed 11Mar92
your greed
beside my greed
forms one awesome greed
that consumes the universe
Farm Life 19Apr92
crouching above You
milking the bull
i wonder
do You know that it is me
would any other
female in the world do
hands behind Your head
You glance down at me
checking up
god forbid that i stop
that i choose not
to continue that is
if god is a he
if god is female then
i'm sure she'd understand
i ask You
what do You see?
Beautiful blue eyes,
in a beautiful face.
i guess i am not
surprised that
You did not see tears
hidden in that clear blue
behind matted lashes
what are You thinking?
i ask another question
About you. How much I love you.
then You thrust into me
symbolically i suppose
it is Yourself within myself
realistically it is flesh
sheathed in latex doubt
misgivings christmas wrapped
i cannot help but wonder
do you have any idea
what's happening within me?
a steel laugh serrates my mind
and i no longer care
It is 3:30.
By four, I can have the dishes done.
Music II 09May92
Whisper of a memory
as you ride the music
rising falling on the beat
touch the staff to hold your place
live the rhythm
to excise all else
save the ebb and flow
of notes
throbbing
open your mouth to sing
giving desperation voice
let the music rise to the stars
burning hot suns
Coffee 06Jul92
the past molders and fades
as eternity turns on the dime
picked up by an old man
searching for money to buy
a morning cup of coffee
He can barely see by dawn
and dimming street light
His bones are cold clean through
and he hopes the coffee -
along with a shot of Blue Ruin
will kindle fire in the empty pit.
For when fire deserted
smothered by cynical ashes
from childhood dreams
emotion and comfort withered
The old man thinks to warm himself
though coffee and Ruin don't always help
But perhaps today the Sisters will be kind
A dime might be in the gutter on Fifth
the day might become warm
until his breath no longer reminds him
of ancient smoke, rising fog, or wheezing lungs
and his ruin might be just around the corner.
Elven Spell 27Aug92
This night the dark elf dances
beneath a dragon moon
I watch from my window high
amidst the fog lit gloom
I see the spirals turns and leaps
contortions of a fiend
hear his echo in my soul
wail of a bane-sidhe scream
I linger at my window sill
the pane of crystal ice
my finger on the slippery blade
dark blood upon the knife
The stiletto slides away
I shatter the window pane
& there upon the narrow ledge
the dance begins again
How 31Aug92
You wanted to know
how to tame that "wild muse"
create a picture of emotion
from musty past and moldering present
you wanted to know
the reason behind the silver knife
I didn't know the answer
because I was wrapped in cliché
and arrogance
I guess I thought
the words simply came
a vomiting of emotion
or perhaps,
like fusion of atoms
or lightning
I was wrong
Maudlin crap comes
that way
not poetry
poetry might
start in a flood
but it ends in sweat
and sleepless nights
The Man Who Painted Cats 03Sept92
You
i'm starting to draw You
pull You from the mere
You prowl
demanding - form
You will not let me rest
i spend hours
kneeling over the pad
lying upon the floor
You stand over me
watching me
5 times You make me
re-draw your mouth
until it curls
with a catling smirk
* * *
i sketch Your eyes
till i grow dizzy
see eyes spinning
Your eyes -
those unfinished eyes -
stare at me
i wake to my hands
sketching air
that smile
gleams at me
Your eyes are finished
slanted
cat eyes
piercing me
through the dark
i cannot sleep
* * *
i begin
color today
blue for Your eyes
silver for hair
rose for lips
yes
that's it
You are pleased
i feel
Your finger tips
resting on my back
in approval
* * *
You are finished
Your eyes
stare
they are still staring
close them
i
must
rest
thank You
No!
They Open
silver -
i painted blue
smirks
laughs
mouth opens
"Rest, Painter."
Radio Voices 05Sept92
"Someone in Tucson, AZ has been painting red shoes on the people in Pedestrian Crossing signs. Says one of the officials involved with the case, 'At least they're only tap shoes.'" - heard on the radio
Who are you
with your little finger
dipped in the blood of creation?
Why do you create
in this awkward way?
Perhaps as a child
you lived within the dirt -
as Adam did -
raucous noise of sirens
piercing every night
cats that prowled
for your food
in trash pails
and more dust
soot and ashes
mixed with dirt
and sleet
caked mud
upon tiny feet
Is this why you
give them shoes?
You could have been
a dancer
whose dream of
point, jazz, tap
went awry
a fall and a crack
one snap to shatter
one dream
or, perhaps
you saw too much dirt
weighted down by the dust of thousands
could no longer
swim the music's flow
The memory of music
would be enough
to compel you to try
in that clumsy way
to give them what
you no longer have.
Is it that you give
them your dreams?
Roots 15Sept92
mother comes in
to say prayers
hands twine
in a study of old and new
one set scratched
arid mountain soil
until hands turned to
tough gnarly roots
of the Cyprus tree.
The other set's
soft and fragile
a delicate framework
of bone-lines
and flesh-canvas
this set is like
the tendrils of the
creeping rose
smooth
searching for a hold
unweathered by storm
or drought's barren touch
not yet stiffened with age
grizzled washed-out roots
shield the small green vine
as old is twined about new
in an embrace of farewell
and acknowledgment
Jeffrey's First Autumn 21Sept92
little brown dog
cowers upon fallen leaves
haunch-bone deep in ooze
dripping red
child alone
under skeleton tree
watches the pup
hungrily
The Faerie Princess 29Sept92
nestled within the root cavern
beneath a giant redwood
you curl away from life - shiver
Your face is frail
like old thin lampshade
from Auschwitz
Cheekbones razor-edged
through opaque veneer
that blood fled long ago
Your mouth presses tight -
a lampshade seam
to keep your soul prisoner
hands grip the tree roots
hard enough they crack
letting blood escape the barricade
and sunken eyes
guarded by barbed wire
replay all the German years
Frog Prince 30Sept92
green legs that pulse
contract expand
leap to another place
wetness of clay
cool slick and soft
smothering mortal cares
beneath the leaves
you hide from the
girl and her golden lure
Anniversary 02Oct92
I saw you the other day
walking with her
your pot belly bobbing
in rhythm to her swaying hips
your silver-grey hair
beside butt-long pyrite
I wanted to scream at you
to remind you of our sons
in that fancy college
of our house that we built ourselves
the garden we planted together...
I wanted to remind you
of all the things you left
for Satan's own woman-child
I wanted to touch you
to brand you
so she'd know...
I saw that curl of hair
a-creeping cross your face
I struggled to hold
my Judas hand down
but lost as it brushed air
I wanted to talk to you
to make things right again
but you both saw me
and turned the other way
My mouth became bitter
I knew rage and hate
and love and jealousy
as I stomped the ground where
your shadows had twined
on thick green grass.
Puppet Master 05Oct92
"It's an exercise of trust."
To prove I trust you,
I let you blind my eyes,
take my hand,
control me.
You become Gepetto
when you take my eyes.
and I a wooden Pinnochio
never to come to life.
the weaver 17Oct92
i wanted to reach out
find a word
card it spin it weave it
into a blanket to warm me
but my hand turned green
became claw of the dragon
that devours the moon
and tears worlds
when it turned on me
as nightmares tend to do
we reeled through the sky
locked in combat
spinning through words
tangling the yarn
Haiku 20Oct92
I.
Mountain stream in dusk
a doe drops her head to sip
ruffles the water
II.
Evening frost flakes shine
underneath the dragon moon
turning to crystal
Dawn 10Nov92
midnight optimists
wake to morning's
guillotine rain
drowning daisies
in scarlet kisses
the aristocrats
bestow upon one
another behind
green lace fans
as they line the wall
awaiting their autumn
and crumbling cake
for their peasant flocks
to peck at
if common bread is
too coarse
for common taste
the peasant flocks
leave a few crumbs
for hansel to follow
to the gingerbread house
of the rain witch
who sent her dragon
to feast on the sun
Spilt Milk 14Nov92
"Even God cannot change the past."
or so Agathon said
so why do you even try
you cannot cry over spilt milk
0r if you do
nothing changes
the milk is still on the floor
or if fate's being contrary
on the brand new carpet
that doesn't have stain guard
and crying doesn't change anything
definition 14Nov92
a shadow
deliberately smashed
in rage or anger
a malicious smile
married to an
adamantine laugh
kiss of winter frostbite
sting of wasp or
fire of electricity
smell of burning
hair dryer, red roses,
mold of cigar smoke
taste of unsweetened
chocolate, of vinegar
the shadow this side
of Eden
scenery 14Nov92
I. Country
a child sits by the roadside
covered in dust
the tree over the child is barren
as barren as this eroded land
overhead fireflies
light the sky as if to make up for
the absence of stars
she stares with gaunt eyes
at something from the past
II. Mountain Town
a child in a playground
stands alone by the fence
like a Japanese in '42
she, like her mountain cousin
stares at the others
playing hopscotch
jump rope and tag
aware of the rule
that forbids her to play too
III. City
a child with sticks for legs
and a balloon for a stomach
sits in the middle
of fourteenth street
playing with shells
from last night's drive-by
thinking there are enough
to make a necklace
Grandmother Poems 16Nov92
I. Ones On the Hill
The girl,
no more than twelve
or thirteen
followed her husband
as he led her
over the mountain trails
When her belly swelled
she feared...
When birth-time came
her body threw out the child
and she fixed dinner
for her man
She was young
and she wanted to play
with her dolls
her husband turned her
over his knee
lashed her good
so as she'd take care
of the child
and fix him his victuals
She died young
that one did
he buried her here
where they'd settled
and found himself
a corn-bred wife
to hold up better
All three of them
are up yonder
on the hill
they were the first
others followed them
till the rows filled
with young'uns
dead of fever
or the wastin' cough
measles, flu
or snake bite
II. Ol' Zeke
Ol' Zeke
he's up there too
he was the one
God called home
after he'd visited
just a bit
he was in the den
lookin' at the storm
a-comin' in
when his childr'ns
called to say prayers
he put a foot
to the ladder
to go up to the loft
and God's Hand came in
through the kitchen
down the hall
and struck him dead
before he reached the second
we always thought
he was an upright man
but were certain after that
surely God called him home
on account of his goodness
III. Courtin' and Birthin'
Your grandfather
came a-courtin
when I was 16
we married when I was 17
He was a fine man
a preacher-man
and he made a good livin'
got $25
a pig
50 pounds of flour
and a new suit every year
That was plenty then
before the kids came
Doloris was the first
Darlene next
then Junior, Wendle, and Willa
David was last
I had Doloris when
I was 19
She was the hardest one
I was young
and small across the hips
She didn't come easy
I birthed Darlene
when I was alone
it wasn't hard
she came pretty quick
Junior, Wendle, and Willa
gave me no trouble at-all
When I was birthin' David
I had to keep the fire going
it was 10 below outside
and there was no one else
but then
you did what you had to
IV. Whyfor
Listen and remember
so you can give the stories to your children
like the stories were given to me
listen so you can let your children
know where they come from
so you know what was once important
and what is important still
monsters in the closet 18Nov92
now i lay me down to sleep
i pray the lord my soul to keep
let the light shine down on me
keep me safe oh god i plea
hay men
bless
mommy
nanna
betsy
and
poppa
Sweetheart, you forgot
to bless Daddy.
bless daddy
tuck me in mommy
tuck me in safe
There now, all tucked in.
Sweet dreams, goodnight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
The room is pitch.
Jenny can't see
through the peephole
she fashions
so carefully
in the blanket
wrapped about her
mummy-like.
She fancies that
the shadows darken,
sidle up to the bed.
The house settles
and she shakes
like the wasp
she saw yesterday
I heard it
the closet doors opening
monsters are coming
theyre gonna get me
pull me into the dark
forever
no
if i cant see you
you cant see me
if i cant see you
you dont exist
there arent any monsters
mommy says so
She tries to drown
out the footsteps
coming closer
stopping
please no
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
you cant get me
you cant pull me away
the blanketll keep me safe
nanna made it
if i cant touch you
you cant touch me
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
if i cant touch you
you cant hurt me
nanna made the blanket
it keeps me safe
She feels the blanket
being pulled away
NO
please
you can touch the blanket
but you cant touch me
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
mickey mouse says sweet dreams
please dont hurt me
Sweet Heart, shh.
It's all right.
Daddy's gonna keep you safe.
The monsters are in the closet.
They can't get you.
They can't take you away.
making love 25Nov92
you tell me it was making love
when it was nothing more
than rutting in the dark
like Lady Brach and her swain
it was a fuck
two people using each other
feeding off each other
like desert wasps
aware of the use
reveling in it
you tell me he is a gentleman
he took you to dinner
but you paid
you say the whore's motto
"a favor for a favor"
and do not know a favor
was once associated with chivalry
with honor and ladies and knights
you'll never understand
he is a gentleman
because he did not rape you
like the last one did
nor does he sweat
like a stuck pig
soiling your pristine white flowered sheets
he does not throw you to the ground
and shove himself into you
as is his right
this makes him a gentleman
you tell me you'll marry him
even though he hasn't asked
because he is a gentleman
he loves you
he treats you like a lady
not like the whore
your father made you
and if he is not enough
there are always those
who aren't gentlemen
picture 08Dec92
She holds a camera
flush against her face
taking a picture of her image
and all that is behind
her eyes squint
as if she is searching
the mirror for an answer
to the question that has
just begun to surface
her mouth is lined
as she concentrates on
marrying the ambiguous
to her film
and instead captures
herself
Dressing Up 08Dec92
the young girl
plays at being
older than her years
puts on her mother's face
to go with the pearls
and colored paints
in golden tubes
brushes her hair
to the finest sheen
like she has seen her mother do
countless mornings ago
parts it straight centered
so it falls even on either side
tucks bangs that
hang to her waist
puts on the wedding dress
made by Nanna
in 1943
runs her fingers over the silk
as she has been taught
straightens a wrinkle at the chest
and wonders if she'll ever fill it right
thinks she's beautiful
and goes to daddy
so he can tell her
so he can swing her up in his arms
and dance a wedding waltz
tell her they're married
forever
till death do them part
he pulls out a camera
tells her to
"kiss
the camera"
she just tilts her head
looks at him
through her eyelashes
lets her hair flow
and smiles a woman's smile
Poem From a News Article 11Dec92
Split apart and
now reunited
they begin the sins
of their fathers anew
They spill more blood
upon sodden land
spatter everything
destroy as they go
Did no one learn?
Rebellion 23Dec92
It begins.
Exhausted nation
falters under twin burdens
of time and disease.
Monarch - like nation,
abdicates
when resistance
is no longer
a matter of strength
or desperation.
Peasants explode
in earthquake tremors,
protesting
hours
minutes
seconds
that further their tasks,
taxing them still.
Army mutinies,
refuses to trod the trails
it has marched
thousands upon thousands
of times before,
stops dead,
congeals the others
to its plans
for revolution.
It ends
with empty peace,
when there is nothing
left to fight for -
when all that is left
on the battle plain
is fodder for the flower...
The Red Flower
that consumes even despair
and leaves only ashes
ghosting upon the wind
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