Sunday, March 28, 2010

The Angry Phenomenologist

Oh ruler
who sustains the truth,
I am one of your
least faithful servants.

And now
a harmful confession
has grown in me,
if there's no room in your heart

for the value of lies.
In this world that I don't own
I admit preferring dreams
to my real vain, empty anonymity.

Maybe I should go away
to a place where solitary
unquestionned dreams are
blown into life.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Birdbath
























When the light
is masked in the Spring
I think of Europe,
the home of fairy tales.

Somewhere in Europe,
the door to the border
of the unbelievable is open.
I would be able to see shadows inside.

I am nearly content with crocus,
emerging from the mat of dead red leaves.
The model in my brain
is bigger than I've ever seen.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Christmas Cactus


Thursday, March 18, 2010

Vine Attacking a Tree





















The giants can fight
over the heads of the children
throughout the summer,
their vegetable hearts


driving heavy blood.
Even in sleep
during the cold months,
the weight of the vine



stifles the oak.
We would never see a victor,
the final splintering of dry wood,
splitting of root.



Generations of fast picnics
instantaneous naps in the shade
fragile pastel summer,
puffed fiber conserving heat.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Psychosis

The thought
candidates for poetry
vanish as quickly as my dreams.
Poetry stands
wriggles seductive hips
smiles seeing me helpless,
stuck in a real bed in a real room.

My availability
is limited, Mister.
You have to climb
away from your comforts
to catch me. If you want me
you have to find
a private lonely place.

What would I do without you,
poetry. Resting here
letting days pass.
The hopes you give me are
vain hopes, slowing time.
It's vainly more than fun.
deep delusion:
ears and eyes of the world.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Anthropology

In American movies
they knock each other
out with one punch,
standing.

In European movies
they wrestle each other
down with leg scissors,
sprawling.

So what.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Poem Written Years Before

I dreamed
as I lay dying
that I was married more than once.

It was so far away
as the last days
erased my nights.

The images
kept me alive
and I was vibrant.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

The Three-Quarters Move Away Dream

I freeze the old loves
with all their painful
bends to hold them for me
while I'm away.

I keep my old life
nurtured with a tube,
relying on machines to keep it
in a mechanical garden.

These old faint loves
made such sustaining promises,
that created such
wonderfully punishing hope.

Monday, March 01, 2010

Overhanging Trees



Not a significant
frown in the crowd
but this is Lunggiland
where everyone has grown up fast
amid the rasping of long civilization.

Every joy here is
riding on a subtle shrug,
little expressions of doubt.
"So happy," they say,
"it makes me wonder."

I almost miss the naked dismay
so easy and frank,
cries on the street
that come from
a deadly climate.