Poem #14-2011 Family Truth

Family Truth

Some of the time – not nearly enough -
I bite the tongue of nurture.
Instead,

I disavow mother’s acerbic conditioning,
I reframe father’s dour aphorisms about growing old being “bad business,” and
I pretend brother actually saw me.
Instead,

I rely on surrogate family:
Some are flesh-and-blood,
but most are images conjured from eternal words
by inspirational authors dead and alive.

Embracing the latter,
I unleash the tongue of truth.


This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #13-2011 Anger

Anger

I am an angry, angry man.
But you have no right, she says
(cue Pollyanna list of “blessings”).
What she does not see,
what you do not see,
what I only feel
has no name. It sleeps in
cold gray solemnity
but burns to life with
each bell tolled with
each softness violated with
each mad injustice
reaped in damnable misery for
sake of
the state for
the family for
the business for
the earth

Its perpetuation
is my anger
is my
is . . . .
me.

I am anger.



This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #12-2011: The Rudder and the Rock

The Rudder and the Rock
   for Crystal

       He who will not answer to the rudder
           will answer to the rock.
              -Cornish proverb

I am not completely sure
if you are my rudder
or my rock

Indeed
until I wrote these words
I had not made the connection
between this
        a favorite inscription
        (on the Forum building in Harrisburg)
and your (thankfully)
lasting admiralty over my soul

A sailor might disagree
with my conclusions

But I think you are
sometimes one
sometimes a little of both
               and sometimes neither as fits the weather

I accept your steerage—
what little is possible with a nearly scuppered old craft like me

and I do fear the rock in you
that it might crush me
or keep me lashed tight to pier
        and so be ravaged by some pending gale
or worse:      that I might not keep its steady anchor

Others
have gone on to new commissions
but I’m hoping you’ll
stay on for the whole voyage (even though I am a
     1955 wooden-hulled inboard –
     maintenance required)

Between us we know
both rudder and rock
sufficient to weather
each looming storm
every sun-drenched span


This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #11-2011: Were It Today

Were It Today

I remember your musky sweet smell
and cannot think of any possible
way to make that sound romantic

You colored your hair
very dark against your creamy white skin

Back then, that made you a “slut”
Were it today, no one would notice

My friends did not support my choice in you
Regrettably, I succumbed to their smallness
and not to your sweet passion

I’ve since learned to resist the web of others,
learned to spin my own destiny

Were it today
I might be smelling you on
the pillow beside me
this cold sad morning

Were it today



This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #10-2011 Grace

Grace

What does it mean to
"grow old gracefully"?
And, do I have to?
Dad sort of did (I think)
But I remember him
advising - repeatedly -
"Don't grow old. It's bad business."

So now with that script
running in my head, I resist
"What is"

Things I can't do any more
(too frustrating to list here)
Things wrong with my body
(too depressing to list here)
Loved ones and friends dead
(too many to list here)

Kerouac said
"That nothin' means nothin' is
the saddest thing I know"

I wrote this poem in hopes
of carthartic release
but now I'm lower than before
and that mystical state of gracefulness
seems further away than ever
seems an impossible task
seems . . . inauthentic

I know what to do:
Tap into my Welch roots and
"rage, rage against
the dying of the light"

Now...what does it mean to "rage"?



This poem written
for and contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #9-2011: Quantum Mechanics

Quantum Mechanics

Soaringly sad
I pop open the nearest book
News of the Universe
Rilke writes of living life
in “growing orbits”
circling for a thousand years
not knowing if he is
falcon, storm, or song

Sadness lifts -
replaced by awareness
and something else . . .

A question?

What is that knowing
that poets know?
And why do I forget
(again and again)
that I am my feelings
and they are not separate
from me?

When I am sadness
and the “I” disappears
then it doesn’t matter
if I am falcon, storm, or song

I am all three, and none of them
at once
I am that quantum particle that
cannot be located
circling forever

and it doesn’t matter



This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night #6
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Obscurity

The formula: write a sentence for obscurity
Yes           o.b.s.c.u.r.i.t.y.

Then: make some reference to an ancient tome
or classic poem
that only the nattering narcissists
recognize

Finish: with a flourish
or a surprise or a twist
but make it something     oh    so    very     clever

read the entire mess
aloud to someone with
no objectivity
who would swoon (or feign swooning)
at even a sophomoric rhyme
just to keep you

I spent that night learning not to love you:
your contemptible creamy olive skin
those dreadful morning lake smooth eyes
the vile way your soft lips fit mine

I can’t be kept
Can’t be fooled
My heart knows a bad poem
and it knows a bad love

Even one that flames high
for a time . . .
like ours

So like a bad poem, you are

relegated to
that corner place
where couplets and starlets
dance the night away

In obscurity



This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night #5
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #8-2011

ROCK CLIMBING

The crack
in the looming
mesa
defines me,
reminds me:
Challenge sought freely
always repays,
failure hard-earned
never disappoints

I pull –
hard!
(not straining)
draining muscle,
refilling spirit
Does one
feed the other?

Upward...
I am stone
my focus pure
Only this perfect
fluid moment
No past, no future

Old struggles,
anticipated victories
wait for cold beer
we’ll drink,
telling lies
on the tailgate
of my patient pick-up truck


This poem written
for and contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #7-2011

Buzz's Horses

Suicide bombers
strew body parts
in every direction

Parents beat a child mercilessly
make her eat dog feces
and lock her in a trunk to suffocate

"Soldiers" rape anything female
regardless of age and then mutilate
their vaginas with bayonets

Thousands of refugees
huddle together in a foreign country
waiting to die of hunger

A man goes on a rampage
killing 76 fellow humans
because he disagrees with their politics

Politicians play chicken with the economy
because of one party’s obsessive
hatred of a non-white President

All this and more
and over in neighbor Buzz’s corral
the horses aren’t bothered at all

Poem #3-2011

What to say?
What to do?
How to make sense
of so much
at once?
Heartache swells.
Suffering shall
not subside
without a fight.
Please,
helplessness,
do not paralyze
us with your
icy grip.
The Buddhist monk
says, "Surrender."
I slay him
dead by his first teacher.
Onward.
To Wisconsin, Ohio, Libya,
and too many other places -
some known, many not.
More powerful than an
army's march said Hugo.
I hope that's true.

Poem #2-2011

In our culture
we hear
"He was thinking with the wrong head"
to explain a misguided dalliance

Men know that is a lie

In the warm shower -
even with the slippery advantage
of lavish suds -
there is no reaction
to the most knowing self-touch
unless the mind engages first

The penis is simply an emissary
awaiting instructions

Like most things
It starts and ends with the mind

Poem #1-2011

Who is to say?
Placeholder? Maybe.
Or perhaps it's a big
bony fist right up your ass
and you don't even know it

Right reverence
is owed.
Your snarky blathering
reveals all

When someone steps up,
and you do not,
sit back
and
shut the fuck up

There will be a next time

Poem #27-2010

2010 was.
As 2009, 2008
and so on
Blurry as usual

Some hopes were crushed
aspirations fulfilled
pettinesses punished
kindnesses returned

Love remained a varying constant
Aggravations - self-induced - appeared and
then were forgotten

Someone asked,
"What was your year's most memorable moment?"
Since one does not jump out,
does that mean I didn't have one
or that it was an endless stream of bliss?

I had some pretty damn good orgasms
and that's not insignificant
But, you can't talk about that in polite company
Sorry

Getting tenure was an upside moment
Spending time with my son and meeting his girlfriend
Seeing Crystal's face when I bought her flowers
Playing at a big festival
Reading
Swimming nude on deserted Green Island
The new addition to the house, and the deck
Charlie's book winning first prize
My new banjo arriving
My song catching a record exec's attention
Surgery going well

It's trite but at this point
not seeing myself in the obits
is a pretty memorable
and daily moment

We'll just say it was a good year
Tempered by the knowledge that -
for many -
it was another drawn-out nightmare

Perspective alternatingly
thrills or saddens

A lot of ups
a lot of downs
a lot of "what-have-yous"

Abide

Poem #26-2010

In private,
as an experiment,
I have called my cat
the foulest of
names.

To my knowledge,
it leaves absolutely
no impression on his brain,
no memories created,
no biases toward me whatsoever.

He does not meet me
conditioned by language,
but rather by how I
treat him.

He does not judge me by
the words I use,
the beliefs I espouse,
but rather by how I
love him.

He has no images of me
to relate to,
but relates to me
anew in each moment:
an enlightenment lesson for humanity.

I don't know about tigers.

Poem #25-2010

When all hope is gone
conflict ends
and joy can enter

Poem #24-2010

Random
randy
Tongue-tied in a hair forest
jacked off
pulled out
put away

Trespassing with permission

No man's land
a forbidden spot
pleading for abandon

There is no saving yourself
nor vindication beyond
damp pleasure

Poem #22-2010

Been away awhile
Been grooving on skillet time
wavy gravy dishes
What's left
in the cupboard?
Always sumpin
even canned punkin
beats a fine-spirited emptiness
So light a candle
and dig in
Dig dig dig
There has to be one more
bite, else
fade to black

Poem #21-2010

Heat

I am warm
here, in this place
Outside, rain falls relentlessly
yet I am warm
From where comes this warmth?
My coffee?
The surfing young man seated nearby?
The fleeting thought of her vagina?
Or is it much more real than that
(and therefore much more powerful)?

Keith calls
vans without windows
“child molester vans”
Thoughts are the same:
Dangerous to self and others
when kept on a leash with
nowhere to go but in

Poem #20-2010

White Isn't Always Good

Dark soldier
suffering silently
who knows no promise
I would hear your oath,
hold it safe until your
return

It’s all nonsense
The seabreeze channel
is locked and blocked
There’s a bomb in the
flower girl’s bouquet
and in the House
we speak of peace

This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night #9
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #19-2010

Fragments

Born in the disinfectant sunlight
fog-turning apple by-ways
– a wordslinger
Tombstone words?
Green Maine rain
Sunny Slingerland – Sonia
(college roommate fragments)
One hundred K
exactly on the nose
“Moose . . . Indian”
Thoreau said
on his deathbed
And it’s all a happy strangeness
Leftover soup
and warm whiskey to forget

It is a sin to collect so much
and hide it from others
Turn on the spigot
Let flow the teeming water

Do not fear –
it’s just a poem