Tag: art

long enough (20161128)

crow9 Comments

sit still long enough and hear
the universe howl in your ears
bees dog-piling on an intruder
the rim of a wine glass
flicked by a broken acrylic fingernail
the silence in the house
when everyone is gone but you

sit still long enough and feel
the universe press in on you
the falsity of gravity
a grey boundary between
your ass and the chair
your skin expanding at light speed
while the universe expands a little bit slower

sit still long enough and regrow
your amputated limbs
stop hitting yourself
taste blood as it drips from sinuses
into your throat
stop hitting yourself
drool as you teethe with a low-grade fever

sit still long enough and you won’t have to wait
for last rites
for burial
for cremation
for eulogies
stop hitting
for silence

——

revised: 20161130

on sitting through a rainstorm (20161126)

crow6 Comments

the rain overflows the gutter
a waterfall cascading
to the flowerbed

by the cold fireplace
i hear drops pelting
the chimney
wonder why a flood of soot
and nests and bones
doesn’t wash down
a cartoon tsunami

but the chair is warm
and there is peace
in the rain
a sleep-inducing rhythm
a gentle melancholy
that closes your eyes
but promises to open them

Mush for Thanksgiving

crow14 Comments

So, before the day gets away from me completely and I slip into a carb/gravy/pie induced state of torpor, I just wanted to say, thank you.

I’m pretty technologically oriented. I’ve worked with computers in one way or another since I had the original Commodore Vic 20. If you had one when they came out, then you’re old like me. I wrote my first computer program by copying it out of a magazine, typing it into a BASIC compiler, and saving it to a cassette tape. Magazines, BASIC, cassettes… how Fred Flintstone can you get? Anyway, you’re probably a little better at figuring out smart phones than your parents are, too. And while I enjoy the gadgets, the internet, and all it has to offer, I can honestly say that this is first time that I have found a community online that I feel I belong to.

I’m not sure what drives traffic to my site. I know that a year ago, I first began to see real growth in the number of visitors I’ve had. I won’t lie and say those lives and views in the dashboard are unimportant to me. They matter because it means I’ve connected.

So thank you. Thank you for connecting with me. Thank you for reading, for commenting, for liking, for coming back.

I may be back with a poem of my own later, but to tide you over, here’s one that showed up in my inbox from poets.org this morning. I’m just providing the link, but it’s worth your time.

Thanks
W. S. Merwin

See you after nap time.

thanks and giving (20161123)

crow4 Comments

i am thankful
for the knife
that is made
of kind words
that cuts
without opening
the skin

that pares the fat
of my soul
(if i have one)
that makes a hollow
around my heart
(if it still beats)

i fold my hands
in gratitude
that i only bleed
on the inside
i lower my eyes
in humble appreciation
of the merciful cut

the egg and the soul (20161122)

crow18 Comments

the soul is egg-shaped
tethered to the earth
by seven cords
and seven cords ascend into
the heavens

the research isn’t complete
do those cords simply wrap around
and meet one another
where the universe ends
or are up and down
actual directions

if the connections are cut above
or if they wither
those below thicken
the soul becomes dense
and sluggish
those with this condition may
live a full life
but they are dead though they breathe

if the cords below are severed
death is immediate
but the soul will not be
strong enough to ascend
and will crack, leak, dissolve

the mystery then
how do the cords become
thin as a single strand
of spider silk
until they disappear in harmony
taking the egg with it