Chittering

7 May


It’s the chaos season,
and the weather lately has all the safety
of life itself;
boiling one day, hailstones the next.

It’s the action-era,
trigger-pull politics,
the virtues of grinding heels and
vices of feeling.

It’s the time of concealing,
beetle shell, reptilian hue,
t.v. glowing blue in the well-shuttered window.

It’s the Stonecutter’s hour,
rock, paper, scissors,
returning us to what we already know.

Totality

22 Apr

This heart is a nebula;
bottomless spirals
reflected in clouds
of dark-brewed tea.

My spit is the water of snowflakes
born of the sea;
my sweat,
the nurturing torrents
of the Nile River.

Resonant pulse beneath the flood,
I long to pierce the Veil,
to take in the music of
time and space,
water and sky –

quiet murmurs of the paradox.

~

Qui Vive

19 Apr

Three a.m. thoughts
crash and precipitate,
a rush of water cascading down jagged rock.

The deluge
drowns me out,
and I want to stand my ground,
but every point is equal,
like the surface of a sphere:
ultimate democracy.

Nothing is quite as real in the dark,
except me.  I feel myself sharply outlined,
conspicuous mar on the still blanket of night.

My weary eyes seek out
the moon,
the comforting speckle of starlight,
but tonight, tonight
the sky is a cloudy sea, and
even the stars are lost.

~

endbeginning

13 Apr

time vapors
off cracking skin,
dancing with the messengers
against an orange backdrop
of radiated silence;
the ruins like roadkill,
wrecked and forgotten.

one foot falls, and again, again,
along the blackened puddles,
among the fossils of steel-framed dinosaurs,
and the empty cupboards of section 8 housing.
eyes slide along
saturnine visions,
a jaded window-shopper,
eyes like ash after a life of flame.

but then,
stepping light over dandelions
poking through concrete,
manes glowing yellow against gray –
a flicker of terrible joy,
a heart’s quickening,
and one tear falls,
like water in the desert.

~

dreams, green with fire,
manifest and grow,
spring forth from the cracks.

and deep roots awaken
to bring life once more
to a ravaged space
eclipsed by war.

Urakami-Tenshudo

Urakami-Tenshudo, Hiroshima, January 1946

Autumn Gray

8 Apr

Rain pelts
down through
vaporous sky:
the tiny bursts of each drop
crackle together
and hum, and drum.

On the sidewalks,
worms are dying,
washed out strands of earth
trapped and drowned
on concrete.

A large one wriggles
slowly, moves its head in
something like confusion.
I pick it up and return it to grass,
which glistens and shudders,
twinkling
under the wet barrage.


Ghost

5 Apr

the sunlight,
glazed immortal –

pianos in his head;
the same notes played progression.
saw a passing reflection
in the window of a car.
no expression,
steady,
like the echoing pulse in his hand.

rambling apparition,
jaded ethereal.

walks the blocks of house-shaped mailboxes,
cracked pavement and loose rocks scattering
away from
the soundlessness
of his worn-out sneakers.

the moment lives only through movement,
heart beats once for every step.

and the world is turning a little faster today,
the sky all hung with dust and time.
can’t stop now:

make the memory.