Sunday, June 22, 2014

Walking on the moon

Sunday, June 22, 2014

It is not my heart that warms
At moments like these
Blood boiling to temperatures
That might rival the sun
This I feel from the inside out
An expanding universe
That must explode
Or implode upon itself
We are not made
To contain such extremes
This frail shell of flesh
We are told
Sustains life only in
But we are not
Moderate beings
Walking on the dark side
of the moon or the light
Passing from one extreme
To another
Freezing feelings in one degree
Evaporating them in another
Somehow managing to
Find a compromise
Between the two
That fine line between
Light and dark
We walk like a tightrope
Always fearful
We might fall off

Saturday, June 21, 2014

I breathe too hard

September 7, 1977

I breathe too hard
This in and out
That leaves me
Breathless and empty,
A balloon expired
All in one gush

I drink too much
Sucking it up
Like the proverbial sponge
Needing a miracle
To turn water
Into more wine
Or whiskey or beer

I fuck too often
Although not nearly enough
Aching to fill up
Every furrow I can find
Like a farmer scattering seed
I dread will grow
Living my life like a monk
Self punishment for
Wanting too much

I sleep too little
Scared of dreams
That haunt me
Even if I doze,
Those “what if” dreams
Where I imagine
The worst of what might happen
And wake believing
The worst did

I never cry
Especially not for myself
Thinking self pity is a crime
When it might well be deserve,
Pacing the jail cell of my life
Counting off the days
To a sentence that ends in death,
Scared shitless wondering
What happens then

If I was a praying man
I would pray
Less for salvation
Than for faith that I am
Worthy of being saved,
A blessing my benevolent god
Has yet to bestow

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

A cindered star

August 10, 1978

The light off the silver
Bites the sky,
A worthless tail of a siderolite
Leaving a harp chord over-stretched
In the sunlight
From sea to faded crescent moon
An appendage in this tide of time
When at any moment
Anything can slice this bared wire
This silver strand
In its middle
Leaving us stranded in space
And grasping for meaning
Which these stars
Do not provide
This bare cicerone leads nowhere
Points to no worthy portraits
No heavenly wonders we might
Admire in this gallery of blazing images
For this denarius dribbles
Through our fingers,
An ancient fortune lost
Shimmering across the sky
Blinking silver, then red,
In its long fall to earth,
No masterpiece
No omen,

Just a cindered star

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

The taste of leaf

June 3, 2014

I touch the tip of the leaf
With the tip of my finger
Feeling along the edges first
A slow west touch
That comes with rain
And then over its surface
Until we both quiver
Or shiver
Or shudder from it all,
Not cold, but cool
Yet red wet hot
We feel inside
So I can taste what I touch
And feel each vein
Grow thick
As I take it into my fish
To squeeze
Holding my hand
Over your upturned lips
So that you can taste
Each drip, too.