he

September 29, 2011 § Leave a comment

he,
been described – strange
alchemy (words in crucible)
he,
changing – mired in
flux of planned transition
he,
•descending
•bleeding
•downshift
transmutated imagination
he, upended
fear gazed
shaking
he, born
bone thin child
into this
hedonistic world
he,
warned to bridge
the torrent constant
ascend and again down
he,
over water, 
in era of thirst
and
he,
first to fall
he,
last to land 

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recounting my suicide for the soul commitee

September 26, 2011 § 2 Comments

naked
I stood on the scale 
and looked down past my
belly and pecker as the pointer
found center on
one hundred and twenty eight 

I thought of how the scene would
look from the vantage point
of the vestibule, opted for
clothing, got dressed and reweighed
myself
one hundred thirty

I calculated my weight
against the drop
and envisioned cliched images
of relatives waiting on
golden streets in
softly hued landscapes

I measured out the 
proper length of line

thirteen knots would have been
symbolic of some satanic connection
to guilt, so I went with fourteen,
secured the line to the railing,
( close to an upright for
  added strength )
and adjusted the business end 
for just the right fit

just above Adams apple,
along chinline, 
behind ears,
cinched up with
the first twist nicely tucked 
under the knob on
the back of my skull

I coiled the rope
near my left foot
and stood with my hands
in my pockets
I thought how good I looked
in the jeans and shirt
I had chosen for the trip
aimed for the peacock
motif mosaic’d in the floor below
and took that
so often referenced
first step 

I can feel fall

September 22, 2011 § Leave a comment

I can feel fall
not in the air,
no, I feel it  
in that crease on my 
back, where from I’m told
wings once grew 
and fall feels
as if a certain smile
has gone missing
after taking
a lifetime to arrive

residual heart effect

September 17, 2011 § 2 Comments

the streets we 
used to run
have been
widened now
just enough to
allow for sidewalks

recent additions
not in the 
photos I came across today

there was one of her
standing with arms raised
where the lawn met the street
the ground wet from
the spray of a hose
a bike on its side
a sweatshirt abandoned by
one of the trees that
used to tower above us

thinking it was dusty
I swiped my thumb
across the photo
a kid took on
some spring afternoon
when plans were big
and everything was possible

it wasn’t dusty at all
just faded

so, you’re a poet now?

September 17, 2011 § 2 Comments

after a long pull from his beer
he wiped the cloud of foam
from his lip

then he asked me
so, you’re a poet now?

me, being one
with a natural tendency 
to, whenever possible,
elivate myself above
my pedestrian caste
answered
yea, I reckon I am

the fact that
I had yet to
earn the right to poetry
played little part in my answer

I do like the label however,
although it holds nothing of the importance
of husband
father
friend
it sure sounds pretty good

it has a casual way of
sitting in the crook of a 
conversation
that word poet

nestled in the branches
of daily discourse
barely noticed until
the wind dies down 
and troubles settle out

then poet, however briefly,
is looked upon
and wondered about 

walk

September 13, 2011 § 2 Comments

I wish to
set off walking
and keep walking

until the pulse 
of the earth perfectly
matches to my own
or mine to hers

but this quest
will be a quest
inward
the only kind that
interests me

the offworlding

September 11, 2011 § Leave a comment

the offworlding 

the chain of belonging
broken –  the time
to go had arrived
and there
below it all

a dirge of
disturbances to come
was being
sung in sonar
as the dolphins 
readied themselves
for leaving

after having
tried to warn
tried to break
the barrier
having seen for too long
men admiring themselves in
the dampened eyes of Ghia
no remorse lay
within them 
for a world laid
to waste by them

by their own hands 

a subfrequency howl
of mourning would
too late be felt
by them now
begging for another generation
to set to right
the wrongs inflicted
  
just behind
their darting eyes,
narrowed from the searing
hatred for themselves,
lay visions of healing 
never to manifest
as the
offworlding began 

Where Am I?

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