feet move in directions,
blood moves in prepositions:
across
through
in
between
more exact than its servants
but the gossamer of electric wire that lives
in the brain is responsible
for the bulk of the language,
presiding over the putt putt of a million motorized things
and the business they carry
maybe eventually it becomes its own poison
it's not so different, after all
it can claim
dominion over a far greater
and vast thing
over a thing
perhaps too disinterested
or
too bent on its own survival
to make its true weight felt.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Autumn Reckoning
Hot air swirls up from the south
Iowa harvest of corn in the fields
dancing sweet and buttery in my mouth
Am I ready for it all to end?
Am I ready for the colors to turn
from fresh to fierce
green to gold
clear to copper to crimson
crackle crackle crackle
says the hay beneath my feet;
and the August sun strains to bake
the dry and browning earth
but weakening, daylight waning
Autumn tickling the trees
teasing the sky to dark upon dark
upon dark
I know whether or not I'm ready
Autumn will conquer my soul again
With her stealthy seductive footfalls
and her Samhain-scented embrace.
Iowa harvest of corn in the fields
dancing sweet and buttery in my mouth
Am I ready for it all to end?
Am I ready for the colors to turn
from fresh to fierce
green to gold
clear to copper to crimson
crackle crackle crackle
says the hay beneath my feet;
and the August sun strains to bake
the dry and browning earth
but weakening, daylight waning
Autumn tickling the trees
teasing the sky to dark upon dark
upon dark
I know whether or not I'm ready
Autumn will conquer my soul again
With her stealthy seductive footfalls
and her Samhain-scented embrace.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Woman
The last shreds of shadow touch
her feet as she waits by the water
her body a brave Babylon
a savage paradise at sea
Woman
You strive to change history
worlds
You see a day with
copper light
ancient sunshine dreams
myth
peace
wind and passion
life balance
sacred sisterhood
You want love beyond gestures beyond limbo
love always shared
A radical thought
a world unfolding
You inspired a future
Friday, August 19, 2011
New Song
Updated 9/22/11. After walking away from it for awhile, I kind of like it better now.
Was This 'The Good Fight'?
You tell me I should stay
You say it's easier for you
To have me stowed away, in one place
But your empathy's locked in a separate room
Those too-brief, stolen moments
I will never seek again
And here I'll build my walls
To save my pride from break or bend
Can't you see, it's stifling here
For someone like me, but
I can't persuade you to care
You say with certainty
There is no perfect absolute
This was too much, too soon
But not enough to sway the doubts
I never could remove
And my soul will never find the room
To breathe here
Walking through the motions
Like a dreamer through her sleep
The weight of absent-minded slights
Pulls me under, holds me deep
The small injustices add up
Eat away at who I was
This will never be enough
I'm not a bitch, I just gave up
Can't you see, I'm drowning here
Futile reaching for a lifeline
That was never really there
I see now, with certainty
What I've lost, but you lost, too
This was too little, too late
But not enough to break the bonds
That tie me to this lonely place
And my soul will never find the strength
To leave here
There are countless ways to justify
This war that we have wrought
But how could I let you determine
Who I am or who I'm not?
Who I am
And who I'm not...
Was This 'The Good Fight'?
You tell me I should stay
You say it's easier for you
To have me stowed away, in one place
But your empathy's locked in a separate room
Those too-brief, stolen moments
I will never seek again
And here I'll build my walls
To save my pride from break or bend
Can't you see, it's stifling here
For someone like me, but
I can't persuade you to care
You say with certainty
There is no perfect absolute
This was too much, too soon
But not enough to sway the doubts
I never could remove
And my soul will never find the room
To breathe here
Walking through the motions
Like a dreamer through her sleep
The weight of absent-minded slights
Pulls me under, holds me deep
The small injustices add up
Eat away at who I was
This will never be enough
I'm not a bitch, I just gave up
Can't you see, I'm drowning here
Futile reaching for a lifeline
That was never really there
I see now, with certainty
What I've lost, but you lost, too
This was too little, too late
But not enough to break the bonds
That tie me to this lonely place
And my soul will never find the strength
To leave here
There are countless ways to justify
This war that we have wrought
But how could I let you determine
Who I am or who I'm not?
Who I am
And who I'm not...
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Why?
Why does it feel like
I am climbing uphill
With lead weights attached to my ankles?
Why does it taste like
There are staples in my mouth
That won't go down?
Why does it smell like
The dog needs a bath
And I am too lazy to give it to him?
Why does it look like
The clouds will
Never go away?
Why does it sound like
A typical Monday morning
On I-285?
Why can't I stop dragging my finger nails against the chalk board?
Because the chalk board has been replaced
With the smart board
And I have yet
To get the message.
I am climbing uphill
With lead weights attached to my ankles?
Why does it taste like
There are staples in my mouth
That won't go down?
Why does it smell like
The dog needs a bath
And I am too lazy to give it to him?
Why does it look like
The clouds will
Never go away?
Why does it sound like
A typical Monday morning
On I-285?
Why can't I stop dragging my finger nails against the chalk board?
Because the chalk board has been replaced
With the smart board
And I have yet
To get the message.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
July Theme???
Saludos, poets.
Since it's July 2nd already, I thought I'd offer a monthly theme suggestion for our rejuvenated blog. I know some of us have already posted poems about summer here, and yeah, I think we've already had a summer-themed month... but honestly, it's so friggin' ludicrously hot in Arizona right now, it's really all I can think about.
So, my suggestion is anything to do with summer, the heat, the (desired or undesired) consequences of said heat, etc., etc. Sorry for the repeat, but thanks, everybody, for assisting with the preservation of my sanity.
And here's a little inspiration:
A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer's noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—
Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—
The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—
Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—
So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!
~Emily Dickenson
Since it's July 2nd already, I thought I'd offer a monthly theme suggestion for our rejuvenated blog. I know some of us have already posted poems about summer here, and yeah, I think we've already had a summer-themed month... but honestly, it's so friggin' ludicrously hot in Arizona right now, it's really all I can think about.
So, my suggestion is anything to do with summer, the heat, the (desired or undesired) consequences of said heat, etc., etc. Sorry for the repeat, but thanks, everybody, for assisting with the preservation of my sanity.
And here's a little inspiration:
A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer's noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—
Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—
The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—
Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—
So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!
~Emily Dickenson
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Only A Drop In The Bucket
I still recall that beautiful day
No clouds
A grinning sun
The Grand Canyon deserves every ounce of its namesake
Faithful flock to it
The Mecca of the Southwest
They come to gaze
Touch nature and see reflections of our common story
We hiked all over the southern rim that morning
Speechless
For a brief moment
We were part of something so much bigger
But for all the memories of that visit
My most visceral recollection
Mindless masses
Tourists littering empty water bottles
They lay like fallen soldiers
All over the dirt
Filling the garbage to the brim
And next to the trash can?
An empty recycling bin
I guess they were so blown away by the view
So amazed we hadn’t fucked up the Grand Canyon yet
They wanted to play their part in aiding and abetting
The blight of our planet
I could have screamed so loud
That those on the northern rim would have been rocked by the echo
Would have been brought to their knees
We acted strident and obnoxious
While we tossed a few bottles into the recycling
Hoping to make a point
But in the end we only had so much energy
I suppose we wanted to have enough left over to enjoy the Grand Canyon too
I am only a drop in the bucket
Sometimes even that is too much
No clouds
A grinning sun
The Grand Canyon deserves every ounce of its namesake
Faithful flock to it
The Mecca of the Southwest
They come to gaze
Touch nature and see reflections of our common story
We hiked all over the southern rim that morning
Speechless
For a brief moment
We were part of something so much bigger
But for all the memories of that visit
My most visceral recollection
Mindless masses
Tourists littering empty water bottles
They lay like fallen soldiers
All over the dirt
Filling the garbage to the brim
And next to the trash can?
An empty recycling bin
I guess they were so blown away by the view
So amazed we hadn’t fucked up the Grand Canyon yet
They wanted to play their part in aiding and abetting
The blight of our planet
I could have screamed so loud
That those on the northern rim would have been rocked by the echo
Would have been brought to their knees
We acted strident and obnoxious
While we tossed a few bottles into the recycling
Hoping to make a point
But in the end we only had so much energy
I suppose we wanted to have enough left over to enjoy the Grand Canyon too
I am only a drop in the bucket
Sometimes even that is too much
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