The Road

The road seemed wide, but many cars
had shamed the pavement; streaming stars on asphalt
Standing still, waiting their fault,
Conspiring the night into a halt; then something
New, considerable, began to sing
Blaming loud at all who bring away
The peace into that dark deserted way;
I had not choice at all, I played my part
Pretending all sufficed in art
While Truth behind me spoke ‘Go now, start the day
That they cannot ever repay
What’s lost, pleases not display with stars’

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A list to make

A list to make is such a bother
Nothing there is mine
But spread on walls that all together
Laugh loudly at my time.

I can swear I hear them all
Years of indecision
Bleeding memories that recall
Of sweaty palm derision.

No boxes full of books there
No sepia memories lift
No music discs, to clear
And while away my grief.


All of it all of it all of it all

You know how it feels.
Everything wears away, all of it
falling off, tearing off, wearing off,
All of it all of it all of it all.
Each strand snakes a place and grabs
you brushing along the way,
it stabs you where you do not know
until nothing is left,
nothing is left at all.
All of it all of it all of it all.
Look for salvation that isn’t there;
waiting for someone who might care?
But there isn’t anything there
there isn’t anything there at all.
All of it all of it all of it all.
All is unraveling, all of it
unwrapping of it still
falling off, tearing off, wearing off, until
there isn’t anything left
there isn’t anything left at all.
All of it all of it all of it all.
But how does it feel?
Looking for salvation that isn’t there
waiting for someone you thought might care
waking up one cold morning, waking for
what isn’t what you thought
what isn’t what you thought at all.
All of it all of it all of it all.
Taking it around and around
off that corpus mundi with no sound
no sound to make it known
so it’s not what you thought
it is not what you thought at all.
All of it all of it all of it all.
I don’t know how it feels.
It’s not the clarity of strong coffee, yet
I taste it bitterly in my mouth, but get
something unexpected,
regret, what is not it
what is not it at all
All of it all of it all of it all.
It’s not the green edge of that pond
With the cattleya tenuous on the palm
in that dirt along the wall
that is not it
that is not it at all
All of it all of it all of it all.
To know how it feels
knowing what tomorrow is like
to know how it feels
making new things grow despite
to know how it feels
taking memory of my sight
and sleep with tomorrow
and sleep with salvation.
That is all there is
That is all there is at all
All of it all of it all of it all.


That Dance

Egrets dance, the way I used to
Speak in terms of silence, knowing
How desire turned me toward
Winds I’d rather never known, but
Courses made me know another–
That–a final blow which ended
That dance.


Sit There

Sit there; let me whisper in your ear,
Go lean your elbow on your knee, to beg
The burden of a donation–I should care,
Should I not? That the hungry go unfed?
Back when the storm had swept the city dead,
And miraculous colors washed and bled to grays.
Where was I? Not here–surely in my bed
Warmly clothed and at some other place
Than this–so where to hide now, oh beggar?
May I sit by you in fallen grace?
Calmly claim your status, let me gather
What pride is left; to see in wrinkled brow
A calm eloquence whose visage I now rather
Envy–a place now far superior to my own.