Tag: writing

Poem 20150623

crow

starting a fire is easy
there are steps of course
which must be observed
ignore any of these at
your own peril

first, you must find suitable
tinder
the human ego is usually
dry and brittle enough
and hardly needs any fussing with
to get it going

a smoldering look, say
or a few words tossed
at the right angle to
make a few sparks

i know some of you are
going to ask about accelerants
but really
what burns hotter
faster or
brighter
that human blood

you thought it was mostly water
but really
it was rocket fuel

Poem 20150622

crow

everything starts with leaves as big as hands
vines trailing on my neighbor’s arbor
a sweet summer smell that
hangs like syrup in the air
attracting bees like buzzing angels

everything ends with small purple clusters
not much different than raisins in size
with a bitter skin, too sweet flesh
hard rock-like seeds

Poem 20150621

crow

the first left and returned
an oddity
living above with his old music
and porn
seeing his secret girlfriends on the weekends
secret in the sense
that everyone knew about them

the second one stayed for years
though he too was forced out
in the end
though he did nothing wrong
except be kind
and get sick
and play the part of a pawn

the third was a surprise
an adoption
kind and generous
with a sharp wit

and all three gone

Poem 20150619

crow

the slow insistent beating of the heart
not unlike the old man’s
in that story by poe
so loud that it could be heard
through floorboards
and walls
never mind a ribcage
and half an inch of flesh

that slow insistent beating
in my own chest
reminds me that i am alive
and that i have to go for a hike
in the morning
and shopping the next day
and work the day after that

every day the beating of the heart
ba-dum
a calendar
ba-dum
a clock
ba-dum
an hourglass that never runs the sand up
ba-dum
a waterwheel that only turns in one direction
to turn the mill
to grind my bones
to make your bread

Poem 20150616

crow

my dad used to tell me
that if you dug a hole
deep enough
you could look up
and see the stars

but he was wrong

so much of what he
had to say
what he said
or felt compelled
to pass on
was wrong

but he did give me a telescope
i held onto until my own kids
were old to look through it
and we tried to draw down the moon
white and tear-inducing
into an eyepiece
impossible to look into
without shaking
the telescope

Poem 20150615

crow

the walk is quick
clouds have rolled in
from the south
sunset’s reverse june gloom
chilling the breeze

the dog doesn’t seem
to care
and he pulls on the leash
eager to sniff
and leave his mark

halfway home, the sun
manages to find his way
out from behind a cloud
a little warmth
enough to soak through
the shirt
and into the skin
but not into the bones

the sun is a white disc
descending and nothing more
nothing oracular
no prophecies
to lean an ear toward
straining to make out
a blind girl’s words

Poem 20150614

crow

this is the house of sleeping women
the house where women sleep
here, the women sleep in this house
except for when they wake
in the middle of the night
and they have to pee
or the cat makes it impossible to
get comfortable
or time is out of joint by five hours
and the morning is dark out the window
and the clocks are all liars
or the dog is licking
and his tags jangle
or every worry rides through their minds
like a chariot driven by achilles dragging hector

this house does not do a good job
tending to the sleeping
but what house does