Thursday, April 30, 2015

Introduction to Photographs of Flowers

As an entertainer
I don't often
write about flowers.
I don't own them.
They are never
original and thus
are never true.
They don't push
against the friction
of my mind properly.
However they are the
sex organs of
our neighbors, the
vegetables. They
model the most
important part
of our swift passage
over the years with their
fresh beginnings and their
fading.
They mean
what we do
quietly. But
they state it
grandly, with
pretty smells.
We hide in them,
even use them to
draw each other
into our dark and
private corners.


Flowers: The Video

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3HzOC7QlWA
.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Belly Eyes II

Born with your
eyes pressed
against a flesh-colored
wall. Poor focus
is your beginning.
.
When things
emerge from daydream,
when day is ejected from night,
when you crawl onto the beach,
the raw breath hurts.
.
I can give you back
poor focus
to remind you of
what happens in your eyes
when you return.

Monday, April 27, 2015

Belly Eyes


 I can use
 poor focus
 to remind you of
 what happens in your eyes
 when you slip away.

Friday, April 17, 2015

The Limits of Love


When they hold hands
all the way to the
railroad station,
something important
crosses their palms and fingers.

When they part and he
steps into the cold distance
the chemicals on their flesh signal
"we will always be together."

But the ghosts of love
with their tear-dampened unctions of hope,
misguide him. All the thick
substances in blood
dam up in his veins.

When he is
far away, entangled,
nearing forever,
the smiles close,
the heat congeals,
the common maps,
fold. His fingertips
never pass through wires.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Riddle


They mean
what we do
quietly. But
they state it
grandly, with
pretty smells.
We hide in them,
even use them to
draw each other
into our dark and
private corners.
They are not
good for puritans.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Tribute to an African Violet




















Customary to
fete the modest,
she rejoiced
when it finally
unsheathed itself,
a triumph,
barely rising
from its frothy
green shields.

Thursday, April 09, 2015

A Sip of Brandy






















The little man
to whom credit
had been given,
now not worth
what he owes,
grows old,
swims
amid a
flotsam of
mistakes
organized
in shrines
of souveniers and
pictures that
cover the tables.
When the house
he does not own
is empty,
someone will ask
why was he here?

Saturday, April 04, 2015

Short Stroll in Early Spring


The sun
flickers on hard and
takes over my eyes.
The sound of a bird
is rude
like an interruption.
I blast through the street
and the brief shadow
of a cloud is a pause.
The wind stirs frights
that come from movies.
My eyes fill with
tearful smears. The
street motion blurs.
Not cold
but I worry about
my heart.

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

The April issue of Cyclamens and Swords


(http://cyclamensandswords.com/contents_april_2013.php)
will include my poems " Waiting Room at Sloan Kettering" and "Solitaire."