series of 5 - title needed ... suggestions?
Posted: January 17th, 2009, 5:22 pm
1.
It was nothing but a brush of dust,
a quick ice trick, fickle as
a lover's glance. I ventured out,
took a chance, arrived uneventfully.
No fear here, no restrictions,
a mere prediction without substance
or evidential must.... a dust of
a blushed brush on a canvas –
wintered, over like spring
sings a truth delay.
2.
the wish is the most conniving trick,
each wicked hope, each cropping of an
imaginative mantra, each saunter from
one platform to the next, each blowing out
of a candle, each trip around the sun
stunned we are, i know, by the differences
when halos vanish, when crows caw, when
morning arrives on an eyelid whim
and i have dim recollections of various
resurrections as i'm sure you do too,
each and every chapter a new
verse, a new possibility
damn the commands!
open the dams to allow a breath
rested easily, rested easily,
rested easily, rested firm,
solid as an idea
do you know what i think?
of course you don't.
do you know what i think?
of course you do.
you see me. i see you.
let us synchronize the view
of the periscope!
look! look again!
i know you do and will...
there are subtle changes to the will
of the sky and i, for one, see the dance of
constellations doing spins and leaps
and the way i keep these
secrets with myself is ridiculous, my dear,
i dare say now, and so i share them with you
like sharing a meal
let us break bread
3.
i would never rid the line,
the twine that binds each stanza, verse,
nor curse the various sequences, each
syllable or worse, each thought.
No, if I did, I would be caught
between the coalescence of each inhale and
each opening of lung to blow, ridiculously assuming
what i know and what i do not quite know
as of yet
have somehow
coincided
and so, before i must forget
i went this route, i never doubt
the journey
i simply walk
one foot
then the next
taught only by the sole
beneath my
shoe
4.
i liked the second one more than the first one
but then again who was i to judge?
the first one represented love of the word.
the second represented the absurdities.
and then there was the third.
the truly absurd.
the trigger pulled.
the pulse.
the beat of a complete
but somehow never complete
composition.
i often resist the better.
i edit headers and footnotes.
i trade myself for regrets, write letters
never sent, tiptoe on the top of black ice.
i am used to a fall
from winter, a spring
from a summer idea,
twice my feet,
twice
i do have two
to carry me
5.
we can need
as much as we need,
each knee in a walk push,
each plead to transcend,
each representation
of a step met by
a sigh or a moan,
home being our most
precious refuge
once we sit,
legs of the journey
and turned ideas
finally
gloriously
elevated
.
.
.
dp.1.16.09
It was nothing but a brush of dust,
a quick ice trick, fickle as
a lover's glance. I ventured out,
took a chance, arrived uneventfully.
No fear here, no restrictions,
a mere prediction without substance
or evidential must.... a dust of
a blushed brush on a canvas –
wintered, over like spring
sings a truth delay.
2.
the wish is the most conniving trick,
each wicked hope, each cropping of an
imaginative mantra, each saunter from
one platform to the next, each blowing out
of a candle, each trip around the sun
stunned we are, i know, by the differences
when halos vanish, when crows caw, when
morning arrives on an eyelid whim
and i have dim recollections of various
resurrections as i'm sure you do too,
each and every chapter a new
verse, a new possibility
damn the commands!
open the dams to allow a breath
rested easily, rested easily,
rested easily, rested firm,
solid as an idea
do you know what i think?
of course you don't.
do you know what i think?
of course you do.
you see me. i see you.
let us synchronize the view
of the periscope!
look! look again!
i know you do and will...
there are subtle changes to the will
of the sky and i, for one, see the dance of
constellations doing spins and leaps
and the way i keep these
secrets with myself is ridiculous, my dear,
i dare say now, and so i share them with you
like sharing a meal
let us break bread
3.
i would never rid the line,
the twine that binds each stanza, verse,
nor curse the various sequences, each
syllable or worse, each thought.
No, if I did, I would be caught
between the coalescence of each inhale and
each opening of lung to blow, ridiculously assuming
what i know and what i do not quite know
as of yet
have somehow
coincided
and so, before i must forget
i went this route, i never doubt
the journey
i simply walk
one foot
then the next
taught only by the sole
beneath my
shoe
4.
i liked the second one more than the first one
but then again who was i to judge?
the first one represented love of the word.
the second represented the absurdities.
and then there was the third.
the truly absurd.
the trigger pulled.
the pulse.
the beat of a complete
but somehow never complete
composition.
i often resist the better.
i edit headers and footnotes.
i trade myself for regrets, write letters
never sent, tiptoe on the top of black ice.
i am used to a fall
from winter, a spring
from a summer idea,
twice my feet,
twice
i do have two
to carry me
5.
we can need
as much as we need,
each knee in a walk push,
each plead to transcend,
each representation
of a step met by
a sigh or a moan,
home being our most
precious refuge
once we sit,
legs of the journey
and turned ideas
finally
gloriously
elevated
.
.
.
dp.1.16.09
