floating and leaving no trace
according to my high school
biology teacher
we are mostly water
sacks of salty liquid refreshment
a little fat
a little meat
some gristle and bones
but even the meat and bones
are mostly water
and if you could siphon that off
maybe reclaim the water
for the drought
and apply enough pressure and time
to the bones and powder-soft organs
we would all be diamonds
shiny, hard scintillating gems
there was once a man from a limerick
whose body was hideously chimeric
his head was a goat
and his ass was a boat
and he drove all his friends quite hysteric
we shake the tree
and fruit
one single piece falls
it lands with a solid thump
in the grass
rolls in a half circle
and stops at our feet
it’s enough to share
and we do
but it tastes bitter
i choke down a bite
she chokes down hers
how is it, i ask
she grimaces but says, it’s good
don’t you think so, too
so this is a lie, i think
swallowing another awful bite
i think it’s great, i say,
better than anything else we’ve had
but i think about the false
sentiments in advertising
and how this is going to come back
and bite us in the ass
too much twitching
–a damaged seventh cranial nerve
thank god it wasn’t the fifth–
squeezes like a vise on the temples
just like uncle fester
only not funny
and pressures the ear
so that you hear the ocean
the throbbing of the sunlight
early in the morning
hits the eyes
even coming from behind
and the malevolent glare of brake lights
of the cars on the 405
well, that just adds menace
like a spider it stretches its legs
at the back of the neck
and crawls over the scalp
and drives hairy fingers
right behind the eyes
the throbbing behind my eyes
is the pulse in my head
Hey, kids. What time is it?
No, not that time. Friday Haiku time.
—
staring at the screen
code fades, dances, confuses
hit build and run
i saw a fire burning in the sea
in the sea
in the sea
and within the fire grew a tree
grew a tree
grew a tree
its leaves were flames
its fruits were gems
and one of these a diadem
i saw an angel upon the shore
upon the shore
upon the shore
and in its hand a sword it bore
sword it bore
sword it bore
the edges of the blade were eight
made by heaven’s mysterious art
and with the blade it pierced my heart
i saw a tiger in the night
in the night
in the night
its skin was dark but its stripes were bright
stripes were bright
stripes were bright
its mouth was filled, a froth of blood
its feet were hands like those of men
its eyes were ice, its breath a wind
we walked
through the dark woods
dark not just because of the canopy
of green and grey leaves
that hid the sky
whenever we came into a clearing
we looked up to find black clouds
and we could taste the metal
tang of rain wanting to happen
but one clearing blinded us
when we entered
we looked up but the clouds
hung black as before
thick and oily
in the center of the clearing
huddled the angel
wings folded over its shoulders
hiding its face
it trembled, racked with sobs
and the light came from a pool
of tears gathering at its sandaled feet
unbearable to behold
we moved on without speaking
either to the angel
or one another
what could drive an angel
to earth
to tears
and what human comfort
could stop those tears
the sea looked like green glass
almost but not quite still
the sky looked like gray glass
with its smooth, motionless clouds
a handful of seagulls screamed
and the breeze
was almost nonexistent
the salt of the ocean
clung to the skin
and the stink of bait hung
a cloud of fish smells
and also clung to the skin
surfers paddled in the green water
waiting for the few, weak waves
and under the pier
seals waited for scraps
waited to break the lines
of the wrinkled brown men
hauling up fish too small to eat
though they put them in buckets of ice water
in the failing light we search with dimmed eyes
can the scent cling still to the air
the dogs whine and wish to return, the prize
uncaught and the horses toss their manes. unfair
to say the least, having tracked through woods thick
with brambles and thicker still with shadows long
only to have it disappear, a third rate magician’s trick
but we will track it by its song
as the now sun sinks below the line of trees
we hear it above our ragged exhalations
and the quiet humming of sleepy bees
we take up our arms, and greet the dark occasion
there is something inside me that wants to play
i won’t refuse its voice or lower its height
break the chains of doubt and save the day
when i see you in the morning at the start of my day
and you flash a smile that shines so bright
there is something inside me that wants to play
when i’ve run out of words or have nothing to say
your heart sings to mine and they take flight
break the chains of doubt and save the day
when your clothes and hair are in disarray
even when you’re spoiling for a fight
there is something inside me that wants to play
when the color from the world has all run away
the color in your eyes give me new sight
break the chains of doubt and save the day
if this life is a game, then i must say
your heart is the prize; i won’t say good night
there is something inside me that wants to play
break the chains of doubt and save the day
—–
Huh. Not too bad. I guess I could try to work on the meter.
O fixed-form poetry
You vex me
You vex me
Words and Feathers 