the life you save (20170606)

approach from behind
place your arms
around their torso
under their arms
[if you can manage it]

if they’re flailing
and their eyes are
rolling up
staring backwards at
frontal lobes
just go ahead
and encircle their arms
as well
[since it probably won’t
make much difference now]

bracing with your left
make a fist of your right hand
and a stone of your heart
drive one or the other
forcefully into
their diaphragm

force those lies
they’re choking on
up and out

clean their face liberally with
water and allow
to air dry

——

for
dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Poetics: Poems that could save your life

buying the ant farm (20170604)

i wave at you
separated by a thin pane
of plexiglass
and wish you would
turn my way
wish even more
that these chemical signals
i am emitting
could pass through
this see through wall

trapped in parallel
we dig and tunnel
and carry our dead
while gargantuan eyes
track our moments
tap on the wall
and collapse ceilings

as this while
you walk left
and i walk right
but separated as we are
we never encounter
one another

and i wish these chemical signals
were vowels and consonants
and i wish i could send a smoke signal
that would rise above this flatland
and you could turn your head
skyward
and read me

philosophical dialogue #7 (20170603)

–do not confuse forward movement
with progress, he says

he cleans a fingernail
with the point of a knife

i huddle in a corner
all of my skin
curled in ribbons
at my feet
but surprisingly
there is not a drop of blood

–why is that? i ask

he shrugs

–just forward movement, he says

–but not progress?

he offers a smile, the first in hours

—let’s see about progress
after we’ve cut your
eyes free from those sockets

The First Head

SO, I started taking a sculpture class two years ago. I had never worked in any kind of art medium besides drawing (no, you won’t see any of those) since I was a teenager. Writing had been my thang for as long as I can remember. My stepfather was an artist and painted and encouraged me to do so, but when it came time to decide on a future, art major was argued down by both of my parents. No money it it, apparently.

So, almost 30 years later, I find myself somewhat disillusioned with my writing (no one wants my YA novels) and while the poetry is a very important and necessary creative outlet, I itched to do something with my hands. My wife and my daughter are both very talented artists, but I didn’t want to paint or draw or do digital art. Those were their pursuits, and I would always feel like I was crashing the party or playing catch-up. and I liked play-doh and sculpey  as a kid. Why not sculpture?

Below, you will see my first attempt at a human head. I have done more, and will post more later, but these things take a long time (for me) to do. If I put them all up now, I would have nothing else to talk about (who am I kidding? I never shut up).

The sculpture is not based on any one person. It is instead based on the ideal face, as my sculpture instructor puts it, the faces you see in mainstream advertising. The course I took was once a night for about three hours, for ten weeks.  It took that long (plus a handful of weekends) to get this young man into shape. Maybe about 40-50 hours total.

Anyway, I was pretty proud when I finished. Looking at it now, though, I think, so many things I would change…

I may follow up with some process pictures of this piece if I can find them. Thanks for looking in!

no new skin (20170531)

i have nothing
left to lift
not my hands
not my eyes
nor raise my ire

peace is all
overwhelming
turgidity
slowness that is stillness
unmoving like summer rain
or heavy syrup
heavy as the earth
beneath my feet

i shed my skin
one last time
with no intent
of emerging clad
in a new glistening
sheath