fragments from mars...
Posted: August 28th, 2005, 12:02 pm
planetary breeze
a windy day asks for celestial agreement,
a moment closer to the next act.
this wind does not bring
these hurtling orbs together
even as their cores spin faster.
heart’s tempo increases
something solid in a molten sheath.
a nebulous magnetism
(planetary, solar, galactic, internal)
holds questions fast.
ask to feel sure
the answer only will come
when you forgot to ask.
...
lester young’s birthday
the same day mars is
closer than in human
history. or another
tenor.
the wetted reed says
lester’d be 96 today.
if he didnt die in ‘59.
orbits
swing back round
quick and close.
mars and mercury,
unperturbed, blow
the hell and back
of deep-breathéd
solos, above, behind,
beyond and anew through
the beat.
...
the poet of darkness
studies violence
stretched out in
my most comfortable chair.
he’s reading a book
on knife throwing, now.
earlier it was a kungfu
magazine. and i saw
a japanese sword book
where swordstrokes
and brushstrokes mix
in martial language.
...
today was harmless.
wind drove broken clouds
across a blueing prairieland.
the breeze kept things
moving from seizing fast
to anything attached
to solid ground.
i played cards with my doppelganger.
i won. he never had a chance.
he taught me the new game today.
he learned it from his family.
our trophy was half a watermelon
in the blender.
a windy day asks for celestial agreement,
a moment closer to the next act.
this wind does not bring
these hurtling orbs together
even as their cores spin faster.
heart’s tempo increases
something solid in a molten sheath.
a nebulous magnetism
(planetary, solar, galactic, internal)
holds questions fast.
ask to feel sure
the answer only will come
when you forgot to ask.
...
lester young’s birthday
the same day mars is
closer than in human
history. or another
tenor.
the wetted reed says
lester’d be 96 today.
if he didnt die in ‘59.
orbits
swing back round
quick and close.
mars and mercury,
unperturbed, blow
the hell and back
of deep-breathéd
solos, above, behind,
beyond and anew through
the beat.
...
the poet of darkness
studies violence
stretched out in
my most comfortable chair.
he’s reading a book
on knife throwing, now.
earlier it was a kungfu
magazine. and i saw
a japanese sword book
where swordstrokes
and brushstrokes mix
in martial language.
...
today was harmless.
wind drove broken clouds
across a blueing prairieland.
the breeze kept things
moving from seizing fast
to anything attached
to solid ground.
i played cards with my doppelganger.
i won. he never had a chance.
he taught me the new game today.
he learned it from his family.
our trophy was half a watermelon
in the blender.
