My poems “Moonwalker” and “Take Another Piece of My Heart” were published in Ligeia’s Winter 2019 edition. Many thanks to poetry editor Ashley Wagner for taking these poems. I’m also grateful to Tami Wright for providing the title and sponsoring “Take Another Piece of My Heart” in the August 2016 Tupelo Press 30-30 fundraiser.
Political Haibun
The wind knows impermanence but does not trust it.
Dependent upon atmospheric pressure, absorption
and rotation, who can blame the wind? We, too,
lend ourselves illusions, only to barter them away.
Three miles for a beer. Seven seconds for a fresh look.
A dollar extended for every five stolen. Empathy,
but only for the wealthy. Electing liars to office,
we justify our actions with more untruths. Nothing
improves. Even the quality of lies diminishes.
yellowed grass bending
under the sun’s weight
god’s will, they say
Let It Remain
Comfort of name,
of pleasure
freshened in
repetition, unformed
pears falling, and
the mockingbird’s
inability
to complete
another’s song.
I will take no
moment
from this day
but let it remain
here in the knowing,
in the tyranny
of the absolute
and its enforced
rhythm desiring
both flight and
maturation,
the ecstasy
of fruit grown full.
“Let It Remain” first appeared here in September 2015.
Cracked
When you say smile, I hear footsteps.
When you say love, I think shortened breath,
an inner tube swelling in the abdomen,
and the magic of tension and elasticity.
Decision, indecision. Bursting
points. The child’s hand clenching
a pin. I tell myself this, too,
will pass, that life’s gifts
balance hurt with pleasure. One
kiss lands in softness. Another twists
into bruises and cracked ribs. Two
nights in intensive care, perpetual
nerve-shredding. When you say quiet,
I see headstones. When you say
please, I feel fingers at my throat.
“Cracked” first appeared in Noble Gas Quarterly. I’m grateful to the Noble Gas team for taking this piece.
The Theory and Practice of Rebellion
Such small lives we’ve led,
diffident, quiet, until
provoked.
Remove our words,
we become steel
and sharp stone,
fletched softwood
splitting the air,
string reverberating,
singing resist,
resist.
Fear not
who we are now.
Consider tomorrow.
“The Theory and Practice of Rebellion,” first appeared in Outcast Poetry, and was reprinted on Vox Populi. Many thanks to editor Sean Lynch for originally taking this piece, and for Michael Simms for reprinting this and other pieces. I am truly grateful for his support.
My last five posts of 2019 are reruns of five of the most viewed posts on this site during the year.
Love Song for the Dandelion
When you scatter
I gasp
aware that the windborne
carry truths
too powerful to breathe
too perfect
to bear
What is your name
I ask
knowing the answer
all along
* * *
“Love Song for the Dandelion” first appeared in Rue Scribe in September 2018. Many thanks to Eric Luthi and the editors at Rue Scribe for accepting this piece and several others.
The Box
Opened or closed, the mood
descends
with the pull of tooth and
tongue
and discarded sound in wet
grass,
its odor mingling with
cordite
by summer pavement under the
canopy,
six plastic flowers faded by the
sun,
and photographs scattered over scraped
earth,
where we stand bound and
apart,
I reach toward
you
and find only
air.
“The Box” first appeared here in May 2015.
The Simplest Coercion
Each portrait betrays a similar
attraction: faces
swallowed by the artist’s
eye, his sight being
beyond optic, that assumption
inherent in every expression
but one. Yet this, the self-
portrait, reveals a hint
of secrets – an unwillingness
to confront,
the simplest coercion.
* * *
Another piece from the 80s…
This first appeared on the blog in May 2015.
Bright Autumn Moon (after Su Shi)
Clouds gather on the horizon, but here
it’s clear and cold as the silent Milky Way
and the stone of heaven, turning.
My life, like this night, will not last long.
Where will the bright moon find me next year?
The transliteration on Chinese-poems.com reads:
Mid-Autumn Moon
Sunset cloud gather far excess clear cold
Milky Way silent turn jade plate
This life this night not long good
Next year bright moon where see
Jade was also known as the “stone of heaven” and was considered a bridge
between heaven and earth. It made more sense to me in this context. I’m clearly
taking license here…
My poem “Lying in Bed I Think of Breakfast” is featured at The Big Windows Review. Thanks to editor Thomas Zimmerman for accepting this piece.
O at the Edges 