Another Day Done

I excite myself

with the promise

that with renewed vigor

I shall attack the day

when I rise to engorge

myself upon

what I cannot

this eve.

The deep and

profound need

to ingest

to imbibe

the new excitement

the newest marvel

the words that spill

from pen to pad

that reach the

toneless ears

of those

that lack the

remorseless hunger

of the novel.

The passion of interest itself

unbound

unheeded

untamed

must wait for

me to rise

again.

Such limitless drive

strains my drooping eyes... To bed. To bed.

Drifting

All is painless as I drift

into your

delirium of dazed delight,

lips clamped and shoulders frighteningly

still,

barely escapes a b^rea>th,

now wide eyes

[the teacher sensing the irony that he couldn't control his pupils]

I recognise the rhythms 

only your hollows make so well.

A Cached Stroll

The fusty fumble of the descending sky

took bites out of us-

like the horseflies that savaged my scalp

as you styled from over the style.

It uncovered what glossy green ivy covered so well

as bites started to swell.

Bats and birds flitted directionlessly above

as dipped headlight ants crawl from hilled hovel

to another beneath our behemoth feet.

Never such

Oh, you were like a summer's day.

its swollen buds, their juice

and bursts of fruity sweetness held

inside the rough winds loose—

and prodigal the heaven's eye

that scented man to spoil—

and clouds, and songbirds, and the sky

belonged to you, all.

Eternal should the day have been.

So who had it been, who

aboard this little earth had come

to net your flowered rue,

and freeze your winds to store them in

a cabinet to view?

Was I the perpetrator, used

too long to arctic hue?

(Who else? The world held but us two!)

Dazed by your nectar wild—

cupped by your richness, and then

in turn, your currents mild—

perhaps I'd seemed a ready thief,

bringing my gales and ice

as all the gifts you might receive.

For you, a mocking price.

For me, a harvest gathered twice.

Yet buds begrudge the place

which hard rime takes upon their beds:

they shatter it its base.

So let me make my return, flee

from treetop-roosting birds

to where no music comes with words

to where there is but me.

And as the summer comes to thaw

in sticky fruits, in jars,

I'll walk the Arctic's midnight thrall,

watching the icy stars.

Nuclear

The pink sky rubs off onto me,

and I am coated in the wisps like Nuclear ash.

Wafts of stale body smell rise from my bed and I.

The window sucks the trickle of my lamp

into the night -

a plenum,

slowly evacuating.

Outstretched

How would the tree atop the church

both stretch and live as one-

The wings of wood to call us death

take bulb upon the sun?

Petals, every one

to beat the fronds into an ice,

Where dance we may, a petal each

our moments into day?

To arm ourselves upon the grass,

to sprout into a wood--

In nova fert animus

the shapes end day as should.

Snapshot

While tomorrow's tomorrow's yesterday

and what was won't be forever

our precious fragments of today

will hold relevance forever

so that yesterday's yesterday's

forgotten not tomorrow, but never.

Visit to a Friend

The trees still lacks leaves.

They resemble elderly men in the daylight.

Soon the hairs will regrow.

The airplane in the sky that is so distant

is visible now.

The doorbell remember me.

Freight cars are loaded and offloaded.

The baggage that is one's soul is expanding.

It thrills with its duties.

The perfectionist worries

watching his shadow grow.

What It Means

What I thought impossible got me ensnared.

It might seem silly at first glance,

But many things appear dim when compared

To the shackles of circumstance.

Wide Open

I wondered what heaven looked like

but I don’t wonder anymore.

Heaven is a name, enveloped in blankets;

eyes closed and arms wide open.

Symmetry

Symmetry is everywhere

across my face, around your hair

but now with wilt is not so found

your shape to put my arms around.

And so I wait another day

for half an image to relay

but still I know, as sure as rain

balance will bring your form again.

Meandered

A word is worth a thousand pictures

if carved in a knot of magnolia bark

by covalent lovers 'midst the mist

of fog-less farts from man's machines;

and foxes wield mechanisms of defense

in unveiled wooly sports-coats worn

by and by the prophet in shattered carafes 

polished into a frozen lake of mercury;

and Ribble slides to and fro, catching gnats,

sprouting seedless sunflower tender-loins

torn away from sow-less lantern skies

obscuring the pupil black curtain far behind;

and when a blind man trips on fingered feet

dampened in salty dew and mucous fun,

he sees that silence makes those who weep

hear the sobs from echoes' rain-dropped keys

up onto the eminent brows 'n' ridge furrowed furred:

a promontory for truck-driving fleets of crippled use

to warehouses bustling with oily nails and meat;

and vowels tesselate to Persian patterns

seamlessly collected by some suspecting eyes

surprised mid surpluses of decanted meaning

that floats on by like fiery birthday blimps

manned by a trillion cells named Giuseppe;

but what factory made the first factory?

and whose name formed itself first?

by the letter-less alphabet comprised of grunts?

These questions sit ashamed in the corner

wearing still a pointed cap quoting "dunce;"

and so the shell with the infected pistachio nut

cracks open inexplicably and decides

to grow into a salamander's spot–a maze–

constructed by invisible web-coasts called mind.

The Greatest View

For each grained groove in old wisened wood;

for all of the beaches fine specks of sand;

there's that fragment of frail detail that could

outshine the finest things in this fair land

For each ripple shining against the shore;

for each shade of blue found within the sea;

there's not a single sight that could mean more

than what your resplendent smile means to me.

For each ray of sun to pierce sanguine skies;

for each jagged mountain that frames the view;

what's most spectacular to cross my eyes

is the eternal light that shines in you.

What makes this image all the more divine

is the fact I can call your beauty mine.

Pebbles and Paint

A shell

waves swell

worn down

men drown

by time

bells chime

Fleeting

On a dark night

a swan lands 

on a moon reflected lake

it glides in the water

and with a stroke of its wings it’s gone.

The only memories

are the waves it 

left.

Lost by the Interval

Lights flicker as numbers count down

but never make their way to zero. Soon

the blank images are replaced by people

in motion. You can see the sweat of their brow or

the innocence of youth

stolen by codes and wires.

The images continue to flicker

at 16 frames per second.

They come to a standstill at the interval

and then move again. It is a motion

that can be paused

but never stopped.

Missing the Rain

I would shun the chance at a paradise in eternal summer sun

for just one stormy September's day spent with you;

trade the idea of drinking cocktails in the sky clear

to hold your hand through the deluge.

I would drown in the dismal downpour without a frown,

endure the torrent with no qualms.

I could be sitting under any gargantuan wonder

but I would still prefer to be framed by your arms.

Live Editing

There is something
strangely satisfying human
about handwritten sentiments
that technology cannot r|

Now typing...

A Short

I saw darkness

and you

opened my eyes.

The Lagoon

There is a beautiful, blue lagoon I know

that is as deep as the oily pupils that draw me in.

Here I have spent many a frescade as spring's knosps vesuviate

and the shock of her gelid grasp makes me vociferate.

The glacial water is a welcome rest from the unsubtle sun

but there is an ominous dread that ripples on her surface

that makes me stop short and merely dip my timidly trembling toes;

a mutual fear that leaves me feeling exposed.

I hear tales of men being lured by her irrecusable charm,

and falling in to a liquid lysis, never to be seen again.

Yet I know that I'm a strong swimmer, a match for her pernicious pull;

how could such serenity be harmful?

Legend says that the lagoon is so perilous

because she doesn't want those lovers and lazers to leave.

Those fears are allayed by my intense admiration for her gentle tact

and a desire to stay in her loving grasp.

Besides, it is a fact that water is vital

and her dulcifluous drops are the only ones I'd ever long for.

Despite unwarranted worry's repines, her resplendence is a refulgent refuge

that deserves more than a response of a subterfuge.

And so I dive in, with a cerulean coalescion

looking past the caliginous fear to the depths,

and once in, the depths become diaphonous that the eidolon I see

is merely the internecine fear that resonates in me.

My lecanoscopic love will not lacerate my lungs

nor will my constant craving cause kraurosis.

So I ask to madefy my desire to swim, and in turn I shall pacify her fear

hoping that her hesychastic heart shall keep me near.

Written Off

The clouds are closing in

like terrible teeth from the jaws of the mountain,

clenching down onto the dour day.

A thousand little footsteps patter through the tiles

unsure of their direction,

fading away into those lowly confines

that we reserve for everything that has served its use;

buried in the ground.

In Your Curls

The shore beckons, 

waves hurl their shells 

empty, they leave impermanent prints 

before being wiped by the pull

and the push of rising waters.

Glide

A petal tumbles through the air

though, slowly, not quickly

as if suspended from somewhere.

Its course confusing but destination determined;

so easy to see, yet hard to explain

like the stone to which it travels

to join the rest; dying, darkening, dead.

Tension on Twelve

The doors kissed to mark the start

of another trip to the ground floor.

Soft jazz battles with the burlap silence 

of a man and woman alone together.

Thoughts stay home to hum, tap, and sigh

at the sight of another missed opportunity.

First Date

I squeezed conversation out

like near empty toothpaste;

coarse, uneven, and not enough.

Her ice was melting fast,

and I was the empty glass

as we both sipped and stared.