2005 20090226

Letting the
      vast quiet
      seep in
From Mt. Baker
      to the Olympics
      and up Vancouver Island.
Clear, calm, quiet --
      not the usual blustery cold
      that assaults you --
at South Beach;
Feeling the energy flow.

upper meadows

upon the upper meadows of brief living
her halo fits time’s beauty
thence come unusual formations of sense
and abstractions from dense matter

the under-rind a trying set of postulates
messing in assorted cocktails of feelingfacts
in the romances of sex-bliss goddess bless
them you go whew! bless them goddess forever

a youth-dive into the wave like a scoter
all the more ebullience of potential
coruscated common jeweled salt suds
mango toboggan swimming the swan’s road

that’s all for now muchacha the dawn is come
I’m off to catch the air before I see the sun

shimmer

first cat is best cat is Japonaise-
on the sofa’s firmament of skyrock
firmed in the stices threaded to micro
is allworld the end of the edge is lazyland

laugh at Night sauntering 'round the house
deepsucking the spirit ejaculating
in cool flowing dark packets surrounding
one thought in a mind and your head

leaves a moon on the silver-plated mountain
on the mountain lies a key and a passageway
the child you were is caught fishing for a future face
with which to apprehend the shimmer of argent skin

uncertainty and certain firmities-
how one becomes another in the cyclic dawns!
a kind of opening out into cold knowledge
not knowing who talks or puts a mountain on the tongue

Katrien’s Jin Shin

you begin me crossing
cautiously ashore an African waterhole
with every pulse you know:
I am the flock of nervous birds that measures
every aspect of your approach
with its million-eyed flinching
a dominion defended in reluctant peripheral take-offs

we both know where we are by the sound featherflap
and the confused vexation of pelicans landed in your wake
pulses folding together like wings to a ribcage
your breath is a hope insisting itself
as you walk gently into the center of it all

and know: when the beaks have stopped.
In the last moment
all the black and gray blotches stand perfectly still.

from above I see you are a miracle listening
because you end me
a white sheet rising
high and lovely in a blue whisper wind

Stink

nest

our every name
sky night rain summer garden snow
change time through beautiful storms
of words
that nest in our laughter
together

#1991 20090122

Driving through
    a tunnel of fog
Landmarks
    occasionally
    floating by
Suggesting progress;
Dream state.

Not Talking

I know you have pain too
my dear
we all think ours is the worst
and it is
as we die, each one,
of over-consumption
or thirst

I have walked in your shoes
a thousand times in your dreams
It is mine that do not
seem to fit
tied here to this merry-go-round
with cackled faces and bobble-head dolls

I want to scream myself
into my own resurrection
as my chest gives birth
to this unrecognizable thing
with an agonizing heartbeat
the color of gray slime

And you say...
that's nothing,
but you don't talk about
your nightmares...

TC – January 2009

Death of a Hommunculus

Spontaneous joy
he knows not the price paid
for your gentle eagerness
severed here now
like a gentle calf's throat
suspended midair
wide-eyed surprise stamped
like CANCEL across your forehead

that brief moment
of recognition before oblivion
your premature demise
your aborted dance
breath snatched from the expanded lung
before the song could be sung

mirthless dagger
borrowed not born
Hommunculus death
these magical creatures
born from our depths
pain turned manna
their deaths the small deaths
of the soul

blackness shroud and waiting
not infinitely resurrectable this
phoenix - scars made gold -
yours a quick burial
and unceremonious resurrection
while I incubate with warm tears
and whispered prayers
my small still pile
of ash

TC – January 2009

a matter of convenience

you are something else
puppet master without faith
in the puppets
where the police police the police
and the children are in charge of trouble making
while all of us are walking toward our corpses
it is only a matter of convenience
not to think so
butterfly dust
the rain is also nude
all points of view
face the same direction
the journey toward rebirth
makes me laugh
at trees without trees
in their leaves
I need someone to hold my feet
to keep my mind from leaking
one persona at a time
I am half in half out
of the driver’s seat
with a snake
in a suitcase of smiles
*

Day

Sunrise beckons all
"See the new day beginning!"
Entranced by the light...

A riposte, that (repost)

Posix, Unix, Linux, all
passed my way, I dropped the ball,
moving over, (not in the mall)
I dropped into a trunk.

Macs and PCs, machines do crash,
were often ways I made my cash,
my latest venture sometimes a smash,
though sometimes cause a funk.

retail vending in cash flow hell,
(you can't see him? just ring the bell...)
and naysayers call for spendings knell;
they're still buying all the junk.

so when i've lost my sanity
and rumor vine becomes a tree
you'll watch and hear me sing to thee;
"It's really all just bunk!"

Japanese Floats

net suspended spheres
capture and reflect all things
beneath the waters

--
mjp

Poetry Map

Here's an interesting feature on Poetry.org
State-by-state search for poets, writing programs, literary journals & small presses, conferences & festivals, etc.
Check it out!

assault

Here come the guns:
the automatic assault rifles
the semi~automatic pistols
and the fully automatic aftermath
full of corpses
this cadaver has perfect teeth
I turn my head away
to redirect a headache
but the music is roaring
the cops need a hand
from the criminals
again
from whom they seem indistinguishable
outside the theater
there is still more theater
guns bullets bombs missiles
and marching bands
the new president promises promises
hedging all bets
vetted is the word we must look up
and remember
applying for unemployment insurance
the mainstream walks through the double doors
bellowing: have you heard the good news?
I froze in the hot air she was full of
waiting for the machine guns I detected
under her overcoat
another berserker I thought
expecting mayhem pell~mell
and I could only wonder if I would ever make it
to the sequel
*