Bewilderhof- 36

March 29, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof 
Chapter 36
– strokes
cells 
continue to
perish (at an increasingly heady clip it would seem)
lack of oxygenation, you see,
and
a probable cause:
jagged bone of superstition 
     lodged
in throat of reality 
simple worlds
               occupied 
by painters of echoes
ricochet off barriers 
leaving only
smudges
as 
      proof of existence 
one such
with a 10 tined rake
for a brush
leaves long strokes
on familial acreage  
with each pull through
the dirt he
listens
for colors in
those echoes 
a palette of voices 
a chorus of 
the comfortably familiar
and nerve testing new 
every season an
unrecognized masterpiece
to be gessoed over
by the hand of winter
the aging artist
looks at his canvas from
the barn door
a crescent wrench
in one greasy hand
a glow plug in the other
fugitive above him
in fitful asleep in the seat
of the ancient tractor 
eyes darting behind 
lids
following the proceedings 
of a meeting 
between mother and son 
a continent away
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 
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Bewilderhof – 35

March 26, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 35
Chapter 35
– reunion 
the bail jump unfol
ded paper
read
     again lines 
and orde
red another beer
‘how much time 
has fallen away from you
as you filed
insignificant
    grooves into bars
             when all along 
the door would have
opened with the 
right question
     asked

if you want to know

what a thing is

take it from 
the shelf
     take it apart
see it with eyes of a child
       as I have done with you’
thinking as he sipped
of temperament 
under the spell of curiosity 
on how all else
retreats to the wings
this thing
disassembled before him
a conglomeration of gears
tooled to drive an unknown 
parts of an equation observed 
to determine sequence 
and reaction 
lost in another trance of deciphering 
he never noticed the lights
or the matronly figure 
standing next to his table
until she gently took
the note out of his hand
and ordered
a tea
from a passing waitress
“you have never had the patience for riddles” she said, putting the note into her handbag 
“I’ve the patience, it’s tolerance I’m a bit short of”
“I can hardly stand the man myself at times, may I sit?”
he pushed the chair opposite him out with a foot
“sure thing mom, how you been?”
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

separated 

March 25, 2015 § Leave a comment

twice      by

scalpel 
the first
       a swift clean flick 
not remembered
– a slice of history
   driven into the depths
by trauma of arrival
    the second
a slow
arduous cut that
replays every time
buds crown
thawing ground
below the window 
she would open
after long months
of dim light and stale air
that first renewing breath
set aside 
to be doled out over
the course of the coming 
summer
     in easy laughter
     and whispers of love
     for grandchildren’s ears
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

in time

March 22, 2015 § 1 Comment

there will come night
into it

two sets of footprints 
only one
                out
may it be you to
      light the candle
to see it
    from afar
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof- 34

March 20, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 34
Chapter 34
– the bail jump 
his time   his coin
        so often lost   when
the error was a
too early 
wager on either
         Eros or Thanatos
he could have kept his silver      
the end being
      another draw
      (in such forming new instinct)
had he been there for the 
fasting of Gogol
he would have gladly 
shared a cherry solozhenik
with Konstantinovsky
laughing 
as uncompleted 
pages fell off the edge
of the earth 
– taking purpose
          from his titles only
however
he was outside of Encino
     now, with 
enchilada and cerveza 
waiting for a call
wondering if this would be another pony
     gone lame 
     before the wire
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 33

March 18, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 33
Chapter 33
– a severing, a slow separation  
  (it’s all semantics)

she knew he saw something

no one else did

when his gaze
followed
           constellations   
standing in the
doorway
as he lay      on his back
repeating names
(those he could remember) 
she knew he saw 
               something 
no one else could
when he 
would stop
      whatever he was doing
to sit
without blinking
his lips moving
in slow voiceless 
conversation
she knew he saw something 
that no one 
else dared       for appearance 
                        of sanity 
                        was a thing
        to be guarded 
yes yes yes
she knew    he saw
something
she wanted to see
          &
eventually the calls to come in for dinner had stopped, as did the reprimands to pay attention to tasks then
calls to get up
to get ready
get going
and the
    good mornings 
          hellos     good byes
              good nights
and, 
finally
his
name
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead
        

a walk on the ides

March 15, 2015 § Leave a comment

a walk on the ides 

from the bridge we watched

        the kids and I   a shard
of a hard winter    a facet of
a floe   breaching the roil
& roll on
in its drift beneath us
past chapters
of time
      pages worn of edge
and towering 
       above submerged flats
a thing to be 
read
      once thaw completed
its shift
& the creek catches its breath
when the
sun centers itself
above the gorge
        & snakes take to rocks
        midstream
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead
           
      
 
       

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