Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Too Early Morning

Awoken far too early to wake and live,
pull that blanket across the sky back over me.
Bury my head in its fluffy white stuffing,
shut the world and its cold air back out;
lights may wax or wane and pain me not at all,
invisible to me in my sleepy bedsheet domain.
The sky and earth dimmed gloomy for my own sake,
bring back gray and cast me over with its mercy,
and an uninviting drizzle to make bed better.
Sweeten the deal with blustery winds outside.
Too uncomfortable to brave them, I'll stay in here,
soft and warm and drowsy, sheltered from harsh sun
and the burdens of daylight, hibernating soundly
until some day when all weather and bustle subsides.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

the huntress

ahead of the curve,
ahead of the rest
(predatorily speaking),
best of the best.
is she overtaking
or taking over?
when she comes, fast
run for cover:
preys on spaces
between the cars,
on Sunday drivers
terrible mergers
and late signalers.
one more car ahead,
burning rubber
rounding curves;
if she was my girl
I'd be glad for that,
but I don't have a girl,
nor is there one,
or she's not it,

bludgeon balance broken

containers carried, carefully crafted, counterweighted, controlled
until some
bludgeoning businessmanwoman bumbles


careening crashing castaway containers, commotion
bustling, busting; budding beacon
noisy and heard:
climbing clockwise can
stand up again.
better badly bruised



trees undressing for bed, long sleep ahead
clouds hug the city skyline good night
one last warm embrace before the light leaves.
subsidizing bad karma,
we're driving a train with no end
no connections, no stops and no lulls,
round-the-clock service.

I'm a child and a man and neither and climbing
past a steeply sloped lake on its way down
I'm a time-wrenching dog, burying things before having them,
crimes committed in the premeditation of demise.
defenseless against your want,
you were defenseless against my response
I fell in and straight back out:

in your upstanding obliviousness,
so impairingly obvious,
you were erect as an engorged cock,
sticking out like an erection and
unashamed like its throbbing head.
if I could conquer my libido, I'd be king of all,
but the grass is always greener,
even with no fence;
with no border
the other side is hard to find,
boundaries hard to define:
is it the song or the day I'm waiting to pass?

Yesterday Now

I marvel at myself-yesterday:
what mystery the things he knew, so strange!
Today comprehending only now, not the past,
my former thoughts are unknown to my current me,
make me a stranger to myself,
separated only by a day.

His genius is clear, but today I seem wiser,
new decisions replacing old, and he often appears a fool.
But being a stranger to me, I can't know
whether what went through his mind
was wisdom for fortune or folly,
nor if myself-today improves upon it.

Each day making opposite decision,
do I renege, reverse myself and progress nowhere?
Daily making the same turns will I find I've gone in circles,
round and round - jamais vu to view my motion,
will I sense a deja vu and break a cycle,
or remain trapped forever oblivious?

Steeply Sloped Sliding

As if steeply sloped, I'm slipping down to you.
It's too steep to track back up or reverse;
if you let me I'll slide right down and in,
can't help myself from this helplessness,
no footholds handholds heartholds headholds;
thought holds down heart.

tell me to forget about it, that you already have.
tell me the truth, but tell me there's nothing to this,
nothing to think but thought itself (too much of you),
nothing to want but want itself (disappointment, too).
Drawn to this attraction should I erase it,
debase, replace and ignore every trace of it?

Thursday, September 11, 2008

the rising

The big blue sky was so broad, expansive, and its vast emptiness attracted me. So great it inverted, so intense it refocused itself on me, and drew me in, beginning with the eyes; the pressure of that great hemisphere of air turned the other way and sucked me up into it. With no trees to anchor me down, my feet left the ground, but I left my toes touching till it fell out of reach.

Then I kept going higher, the ground dropping away like a fish-eyed thing and the sky expanding weirdly to fill my field of view, which soon encompassed the world. My existence became that deep, endless sky blue, which is a color but not a shape, a clear mass of invisibility blocking the cosmos from sight in the day. A thing you can't see past but doesn't seem to be there at all.

The speck of where my body had stood moments before was the entire planet I had left, yet the blue still continued, no inky blackness encroached upon me, nor stars. Uncertain but excited, nervous but exhilarated, I realized I was not rising in the normal sense: I was going deeper into the sky, a separate entity from the earth or its atmosphere, distinct from space.

Deeper into the sky, it was deeper blue, like an ocean but lighter and the depths did not crush; rather, they made my heart feel like helium, rising higher and higher. The color was unearthly, the blue so impossibly near black as might be glimpsed for a second at dusk in some obscure corner of the night sky. It was like a luminous ocean of deep blue, dark but seemingly lit from within with a subtle saturation of intense color.

It was the most delicious blue that could be seen by any eyes.

Looking around myself, I could see only blue, graded shades fading back toward the more familiar sky blue back where I'd come from. I couldn't identify any mechanism doing this, but there I was in a sea of sky. It wasn't defying gravity so much as evading it, for it was clear that I was not moving against it.

As I began to think about the improbability of my situation, the situation set about resolving the seeming paradox. I felt it first only subtly, and I could tell only because colors began to shift into lighter shades that I was moving back out of this strange sea of air.

Disappointment flooded in and I already mourned the loss of that place while still in it, despair accelerating my descent. I knew then that I would never have such a chance again, that my memories, vivid and unbelievable as they might be, would pale in comparison to what I was seeing, a mere black and white rendition of something that almost consisted of pure color.

Sorrow took me, and by the time the green earth came back into view, I was lamenting the loss of pure sky. The ground, green grass growing, soon took me back and shackled me its prisoner. Perhaps I'd never left it, I thought. Perhaps it was just a daydream, a waking hallucination, something thought and not seen. My journey of color was at an end, I thought.

Looking back at the grassy earth as it took me back to its bosom, I realized that perhaps it wasn't all over: I could still perchance take another trip, sailing to see a sea of green.

Noticing the many other colors around me as I planted my feet back down and my sight became once more terrestrial, I became hopeful that I might be lucky enough to journey into any one of those hues.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Distance Oppress

oppressive concrete distance,
you look at me so bleak,
with such disregard.

I shelter from the sunlight
so brightly blinding me,
and likewise she hides.

sailing a corner, landship
mighty careens about,
leaves me feel floating.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Never Left the Ground

That hollow resonant fleshy sound
of the razor climbing my adam's apple.

Meanwhile an aeroplane buzzes in my head.
The plane is a thought of relationships:
trying to take off with great noise,
flight's aborted if ill-built, unready,
if breaks down before leaving the strip.

Far worse is when all seems fine,
flight ill-advised but still at ease when
it's a rickety-experiment-contraption,
which, when reaching a ledge,
plummets to its instant wreck.

The blood on my neck, tiny stopping trickles,
shows me how smooth the razor's ascent.