Thursday, January 3, 2013

For the Funeral

Order the black cars
The host lies in state
Order the flowers
He’s awake

The vantage point
From the ceiling
The smell of sadness like a flavor
The empty shadowed room
No voices could fill anything but the sound
In the empty spaces in the walls
Morning falls
Like a weight on shoulders broken and spent
Wondering where hours went
The waiting-the glass suspended on the edge of the table
Clumsy fingers of children
Hushed parental cues
The vantage point around the fireplace
Watching the dressing room
Finished getting ready
The widow puts her makeup on
Black is the color of daylight
Shines through the window
Like a sickness
I don’t understand the words you speak
The priest
Ensures peace
And silently
Walks in the room
The director slinks out like a serpent
A sad reckless play-where no one will remark
On the substance or how well the lines were delivered
The host is sainted
No one asks the question
No one would dare

Order the room
The cash bleeding out of the home
Read the will
Get your fill of the darkness
As it leaves
With the mourners
And left alone, we are fragile
In the kitchen
We are broken dirty dishes
In the sink
A final drink before sleeping
We are awake
We are staring at the ceiling
And the host lies in the ground
No sounds
Only an empty shell
Even now winding down
The slow earth, the careful shovel
The indifferent ground

Staring at the ceiling the widow cries
And a hand from the ceiling a bleeding sky
Touches the face
With the spring breeze
It’s only epitaph
Remember me………

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Awake: First of 2013


A vulture in circles in the sky
Across the hollow landscape
Cars pass by
The grey sky staring at us
From across the room
The time to decide
It’s coming soon

In the midst of another year
No sadness
No tears
Washed away like storms before
All pasts alive
No more

A blackbird in a dying field
The sun, a whisper in the sky
But why do I feel hope in a gray landscape
And why do I choose joy
At the end of a season
Maybe it’s the wisdom of age
Or the courage and excitement
To turn another page

Awake in this landscape
Blackbirds passing me by
All I have is worthless wealth
But a treasure of precious time…….

The Inspiration

Twisting in the frame
The resemblance of the face
The same
The portrait
No voice, no name
Only the paint that stains
Sad and beautiful gray

Out through the front door
Hands reaching out across a hemisphere
Wide eyes, seeking
A point in the cueless sky
No perspective no path to memorize
Only the gray scape
And the ideas we rationalize
Often pointless
They stream through us
A voice
I feel like a puppet
I dance only with a voice
From some unseen source
Atoms pulling and pushing
Radiation in the garden
As the sunlight moves across a barren sky
I don’t even need to ask you why
I’ve given up all my secrets
Now all I have is time
For you to decipher the riddle
The common thread that speaks in words
Voices no one has ever heard
Keeps us dangling like puppets
Across the sky
I stopped asking why
All I have is precious time
For you to answer the riddle
That hangs dangling above our eyes…….


Love that amazing element
That no chart could contain
It grows in me and moves me
I am a river under the ice
I am a river seeking the oceans peaceful tide

I don’t know these words
You speak and I answer with black etchings on a screen
I won’t go back
I just trust you to keep me making some sort of sense
When I can’t comprehend or memorize
Anything I ‘ve said

The organic feeling of love
Like leaves in a dying garden
I’m clinging to the branch
Found my place high in the tree
And only now realize
The distance between me
And the garden
I will one day lie and be
Nothing but this rotting leaf
That gives up all
So beautifully

I have words like leaves
They stream wildly
Like colors in fall
I can’t imagine taming
Or deciphering them all
They just stream through my mind
And I can’t even imagine
I can’t open my mouth to say
Any words
Of any kind of leverage
They don’t come out that way
Stumble upon reason
Stumble upon a sentence, a rhyme
You speak
And I listen
I don’t need to make sense
It’s the distance between each word
And the reason that dangles
I try to question the flowing stream
It goes around me
Flowing fast and violently
Keeps me from catching up
It only runs through ruins of all
Our giant plans
We’ve made
You speak
And I listen
It doesn’t need to make sense
And when you leave my mouth
And my hands will freeze
I will stand in a field in the middle of a field
In the  rain, begging please
As all the blackbirds make their shadows on the ruin
Of me
And I will give up all that I was to you
So beautifully……

The Muse

 So explain to me, where do these images and words come from
And explain to me where they go
Like water out of the sky
The form
The solid, the gas
Out across this mindscape
Thoughts and ideas furious
Like the white blood cell attacks the disease
This foreign body ejected
Streaming across
Often without reason
But continuous the flow
Until there’s nowhere else for it to go
Locked in metal boxes
Have I been a bad steward of all these ideas
Has time been a stumbling block
Or age
With wisdoms absent
Seeking the child that would place the puzzles
Where they belong
Was I right or wrong
No one answers
 A dark room where music plays in the background
The answer to all of our thoughts
Dangles in the sky
Where the light breaks the edge of darkness
We stare blind
Into space
Seeking all those tiny stars
That put us in our place
How small we are
How infinitesimal our tiny spaces seem
Waking out of this coma
This grand play
That never knows its cue
Only that I listen to you and you speak
Through me
A voice, that a child could only decipher
Empties the thoughts of oceans
In a grand rain barrel that would explain
How we all feel the same
How we all stare out to sea
How we all look up to the sky
Searching for you, for me……