Monday, January 30, 2012

Known but Not Familiar Words

I always
put it around my nostrils,
I answer when she asks me
where I put my Vicks.

Then in my half-sleep
I notice how strange the word sounds,
"nostrils." Words not often said
wander in the woods without trails.

Something like nose,
I know that word even though it's
not every day. Nostrils, the appendage
feature, like the nomenclature of insect parts.

In my half-sleep about to slip
into dream my facetious mind
knows the link
here on earth to parts of strange beasts.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Hole

The truth
has to buried
down here somewhere.

I enter cannily
prepared for
a long slow journey.

The light of my candle
flickers as if
it can fail.

It is through
the basement of my old house
that it opens.

Sub-floors and
catacombs never explored
behind a door of wooden slats I could nearly remember,

as if the truth
were hidden in the realm
of devils.

I walk in alone
peering at the cells of my brain
amazed at how huge I am.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Why I like Cop Shows ("Where Id was there shall ego be.")

Police come in
bright like the sun,
cleaning away from the outside
what should be hidden safely within.

So the ordinary hours
dawn from underneath.
They are full-sized,
with heavy feet.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Chauvet Cave

From a world of
closed loops
where kinks and
corners weren't
imagined yet,
where animals
mixed and souls
slipped in and out
of bodies. We hold
the line now, cold
and fast. We
lock and crimp sharp.
The circle is only
an ideal we cannot match.

Then something came from
down the great tube of body and brain.

I thought I saw a light.

Now it all comes
from this tiny Earth,
emergent detail. Memory
is all that's left
of mystery.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Freud vs Jung

I used to think
something came from

down the great tube of body and brain.
I thought I saw a light.

But I'm grown less certain.
I now think it all comes

from this tiny Earth,
emergent detail. Memory

is all that's left
of mystery.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

You Have Many Moles

When I slipped into the world
it wasn't certain about me.
The lines around my body
are therefore fudged.

It takes more energy
to finish the work of rounding.
Rough extrusions remain,
statistical shivers
of half way.

Saturday, January 07, 2012

Mom Returns for a Night

It took
a lot out of her,
returning that kind of smile
and pushing her body into
that angle she learned

in high school. But she
became my mother again,
briefly, on that anniversary day,
those years ago, a woman
of long learned habit in front

of the camera.
Unknowns followed her, just
weeks ahead. The effort
showed. I don't know how
she remembered.

Friday, January 06, 2012

My Comment When The Poet Denied the Rant

He wrote a wonderful rant about
somebody's criticism of his poems.
I never noticed the trouble

somebody said he had.
I told him the one thing
you have to watch when you

write a rant is the glorious high you get.
It makes you selfish.
He blushed saying it was

just a spoof. But this was no spoof.
I told him how much he enjoyed the bitter juice.
I told him I can tell.

Wednesday, January 04, 2012

Daily Visit of the Unforgiving Sun

First sun slipping through the
East window excites the air dust
and highlights the flaws
in the rug.

The sun is
refreshing like
an inspector
who visits from

beyond the walls
and tells me I'm ok.
That's why I love
the morning.