Monday, July 30, 2012

artifacts (redux)

artifacts (redux)

recollection memory dream drawn from
the everyday motion of artifacts

as a boy and teenager
he was drawn to things he could collect

organize and save and treasure
object by object as each thing became his

this was not about possession
but a fortress against temporal human frailty

in the dream like the evening before watching a film
he cried spontaneously and deeply

the film:
a father turned to his daughter in the backseat of the car
and she said, “I love you, Daddy”

the dream:
he lay in bed reading when his daughter walked in
smiling, hugging him, and saying, “I love you”

maybe a film but not tears or a dream
he could hold on to—collect and preserve

he began listening to a CD she made for him
not because he liked the music or the group

but the artifact had her handwriting
across the thing itself from a moment

he had been in her mind heart and hand
like a coyote in silhouette howling its longing

Thursday, July 26, 2012

the consumers (crimes against the market)

the consumers (crimes against the market)

“Caught in the act, sinfully Scrabbling. Quick, eat those words.”
The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood

linger and dally were just some of the words
that disappeared among the consumers

like collectrestorerecycle, and sustain
all punishable crimes against the market

instead they were monetizing and re-investing
and doing so at an ever-increasing rate

mindful never never to hold on to anything
because someone was always watching         

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

words are a meager thing at the bottom of a grave

words are a meager thing at the bottom of a grave

Salander couldn’t breath….[S]he realized…that she was buried under ground.”

i am sorry that you are beautiful
that the curve of your jaw and neck
the angle of your ankle to foot
and your hands your hands

all all of you yes all
makes me ache to be right next to you

the words that come out of your mouth
and your mouth

the laughter that rises from your chest
and your chest

and the dozens of ways you have worn your hair
over the sixteen years i’ve known you walk on this planet

i am smitten enamored and pining in your trance
your electrifying faerie dust and pheromones 

i am sorry because this all sounds superficial
the hollowness of a man thinking with his hands
and the burden of my love like a shovel full of dirt

words are a meager thing at the bottom of a grave

but it is all i have
it is my complete resignation in a mine field
to the one thing that is me and true

except this isn’t quite true
at least not as true as this:

i wish my longing was what you wanted of me
my hands reaching for you
like a man buried alive trying to dig free
for the oxygen that pales beside you

Monday, July 23, 2012

tracing, holes, self-righteousness, & superpowers (crimes of passion)

tracing, holes, self-righteousness, & superpowers (crimes of passion)


it was a dream that nested in me like memory

you strip the bed of everything
except a new white sheet

you lay me down on my back
like a cadaver or patient

you prick the ends of your fingers
to trace me in your blood

but you cannot show me with an outline
that is only where i lie

because when you ask me to rise and leave
all that is left is not me

ii. holes

i lost you to the black hole of normal
that swallows everything except me

and i am trapped in the gravitational pull
of the wormhole that ties us always together

iii. self-righteousness

self-righteousness isn’t attractive
it doesn’t unzip your dress
falling to the floor
or buckle your knees

knowing it all is no aphrodisiac
it is cold dead certainty
rendering yesterday tomorrow
as if you do not matter

iv. superpowers

i cannot climb walls or fly
and my body doesn’t transform
behind mask, tights, and a cape

my superpowers are mundane
and draining as Kryptonite
but only for the ones i love

i have superpowers that destroy
with the exhausting burden of love
this stone of you were not enough

it is a bizarre thing to have the gift
of inverting a heart into diamond
shedding love like a snake skin

i leave bruises that never heal
and lie on the skin like ghosts
or tattoos removed by lasers

how far must we pull back to recognize this crater?

and how does failure look curled and bleeding
on the pavement before the outline can be drawn
and the yellow tape strung to signal DO NOT CROSS?

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

frail (drop of blood in a glass of red wine)

frail (drop of blood in a glass of red wine)

Let me come over, I can waste your time, I'm bored
Invite me to the war every night of the summer
And we'll play G.I. Blood, G.I. Blood

i am frail and so are you
we have lived egg-shell lives us two
mostly separate but never apart

even before we met
and during our silences
when you shut the door between us

all whispers closets and tip-toeing
sock-footed over carpet
so no one would know

i am a drop of blood
in every glass of wine you drink

you are the slice of lime
in the beers i cherish like water

i drive alone some mornings
listening to songs that make me cry

writing these poems to you
about you and for you

my sheep among the laurels
that i cannot tend in my frailty

on one of our secret days
we walked naked
through your childhood home

and then stood at a counter
to look through a family album
side by side unknown to anyone

i am worth it and so are you
hand in hand and naked
in the sunlight where everyone can see

shouting and doors wide open
walking without fear or hesitation
to the us i will not let disappear

like a drop of blood in a glass of red wine

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

the world (frantic)

the world (frantic)

“No, Mum. You’re not stupid. But life is unfair.”
Lisbeth SalanderThe Girl with the Dragon TattooStieg Larsson

the world was exactly as they expected
exactly as they knew it to be

and mostly not as it could have been
or should have been

spring was pretty much spring
and summer was pretty much summer

as was winter and tumbling fall

dawn was always dawn
and day was always day

as was dusk and certainly night

and while children starved
and women bled, battered and bruised

some men pondered over $5000 suits
and a different shirt and tie each day

all in all everyone frantically did everything they could
and of course they did nothing at all

the world was exactly as they expected
exactly as they knew it to be

and mostly not as it could have been
or should have been