Sunday, August 31, 2008

A Dangerous Friend

looms in a chair
a few buildings away,
cradling in his throat
the tempting dark
incantations of crime. I could
meet him and pretend to resist,
and let him release
the oil and the flame.

I would float
where the possiblities
are boundless, among gates
into the secret folds
of the streets. I would be
touched by ashes which
I may never wash off.

He waits there in the chair.
I know where he is
he has told me to come
and I, once, agreed. He
rubbed me and released
my sweet poisons. I went
with him, so far away.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

The Tissue Ripper

Remove pain by death
and solve love with economics.
He finds logical solutions
for problems of pain and love.
weak things that live out of mercy.

Pain and love that
live only out of mercy,
you must touch
breathlessly or
damage the thin fabric,
like faith, held together
with spider silk.

When he rips
leaving a vacuum hole
I mourn.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Report card After two Semesters

I know you are a very talented fellow.
Your poems can make me cry,
but I don't really care.

I know you are kind, smile in all the right places,
trying to raise my delight.

I know you listen to my trouble,
move your mind into mine when we talk.
But I don't really care.

I know you can charm, enjoy your conversation,
an impermanent amusment, not a home.
I set my lasting dreams on another and you

have won no heart here.
I don't really care.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Sixty-Eight

I am a creature of retirement.
Nobody dreams of me.
Soon I will stop dreaming.

The future has slipped
back onto all those bright-eyed others
bearing away any wishes and hopes.

It's just now,
a pleasant word
perhaps a laugh.

Nothing binds and holds.
There are no enclosings
when the life of love has passed.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Live Jazz

In this jazz room
at a table
in front of a bottle of Millers,
it's all real.
The woman with
the tatoo on her leg
is singing about
feeling beating hearts.
The men I know, she sings,

the breath in her voice
and delicate conversation,
all grown-ups. I
barely know the rules.

She sings about love.
I mention politely
I think she's lying.
The jazz lyrics
are pure country.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Intrigues

Between the dream lovers
and the real lovers
the written and the spoken lovers
the jealousies of the silent
lovers when the lovers who speak appear.
And the intrigue, hurts among the real lovers
caused by the dreams.
We should all sleep
when we sleep
and wake to stay awake
even those without lovers.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Jane Austen Book Club

They get together
once a month and slowly
become friends
They are joyous, don't
trouble themselves with
ends of time.

Polytonal,
counterpoint of sympathies,
normal articulate arguments,
duos and triplets for lunch,
drinks in pleasant places,
laugh when they can.

Together to
discuss great books,
digress about
broken glass
and perfect love.

*after a movie of that name

Sunday, August 10, 2008

On Seeing "Field of Dreams"

It is one of those times
I cry. Almost like
a belly laugh but
somehow
has to do with sorrow.

I am flooded with language
like a storm. So many
alterations, worries lifted
but vacuums in their places
and streams of wetted
time, climaxing into past.

I don't know why
but I wail want, primally
terminally. Thoughts of death
and goodbye jerks,
images of faces ghost over
length of life strings. I cry
as if I were laughing.

Friday, August 08, 2008

To an Australian Woman

Suppose I told you
I am the spirit remnant
of an ancient mariner
locked away in a jar
of pickles in a vault below
the Grey Nun's Ruin
in St. Norbert, Manitoba.

I reach you through the
energy of digitalized souls,
now distributed everywhere
by chatters and text messengers
and cell phone users over all the planet.

What would you say then
about playing games with old men?

How Dreams Use Up Wishes

A dream is a wish your heart makes,
and I know how dreams come true.

I wish you loved me
so I make it up.

Then my heart is full of constructs
as solid as the mountains, exactly as solid.

A dream is a trip
your heart takes.

I dream you love me
and then I wish

you love me
no more.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

I know how dreams come true,
got a recipe.

I wish you loved me
so I make it up.

Then my heart is full of constructs
as solid as the mountains,

exactly as solid
as mountains.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Why I can't succeed In the Arts

I go
to the banquet
and sit,
by chance at your table
and you
pull away, hackles
raised on your back.
I show you my
invitation and you nod
but you know
I have no gift for you
and we won't speak.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

The Goodbye Hug Conspiracy

What kind of hug is this? I ask
as he thinks I should
grandly say goodbye.
Comeon, he says. I know that
interpersonal relations are not
your strong suit.

Embarrassed, I can only
come back with, well I am
reserved. But I know he is
making this hug a test. He comes
from a long line of testers.
He wants to see
if I know how to meet my obligations.

I have not met my obligations
all during my youthful years
he is waiting to see me fail again.
I have already lost
for not doing it naturally.
I get demerits
for poor self esteem.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Morning Chat (Carolyn's Poem)

We flirt
until we are ready.
We have our little
sex game. We cum.
We rest, talking about politics
our words travelling from wherever to wherever.
We raise our hackles with
smoking economics and
the economics of white flour.
We lay in lastitude.
We part. Say
"sex and outrage,
what a session!
Two forms of the same thing."