books, covers grinning with coveted secrets,
stacks upon stacks, grey bricks of a castle,
dusty pages of knowledge untold and ancient,
stories of old; phantoms, dragons, angels, devils,
crumbling parchment, yellowed edges
on bookshelves in unused closets,
writing themselves in the dark basement of the library.
Archive for September, 1990
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God’s Electronic Floor Tom Sample
Posted: September 26, 1990 in PoetryTags: God, Sample, Sound, Thunder
Oh. Thunder,
How I love your sound,
The resounding slap
Of a Thunderclap
Even shakes the ground.
I always fright:
where does the bolt strike?
Even if out of town,
I wonder.
bicycling over the heath
Hardy in the veins,
poetry running throughout my brain
and dirt beneath
me and my green bicycle
touring the countryside
admiring the steely sky
losing the Me in Michael.
alone in a big room (echoes and ghosts)
Posted: September 25, 1990 in PoetryTags: Alone, Bear, Echo, Flowers, Ghost
9/25/90
small. lonely.
alone in a big room.
echoes and ghosts,
stairs and flowers,
the noise of old laughter
is caught wistfully in some corners
where the experienced ear
can still hear it whisper.
bedrooms and bears,
visions and dreams.
alone in a big room.
small. lonely.
Rain Starry Forest
Posted: September 24, 1990 in PoetryTags: Ezra Pound, Forest, Road, Robert Frost
I stood like Ezra Pound
in a wood like a tree and I listened
to things one normally does not see
when running pell-mell to get by
the forest true.
I was like Robert Frost
all because I reveled in the leaves
laid before me: deep, coarse, unleveled;
a road barely traveled by I
and a few.
what shall I say to thee
infinite reaches of space,
unfolding as a game board of unlimited leaves
surveying the rules of elder gods
as drops fall silently strained through the fabric of my robes.
clear eyes can distill liquor from the pungent fern
as brave minstrels sing under reddening skies of smoke.
as beautiful as the apocalypse is,
foundations quake with a hummingbird’s nerves;
the hum of snapped electrical cables
the glazing of the glorious mirror-windows
wind rustles gently through
an anticipating forest
and the animals wish we leave now.
9/23/90
the stems of adolescent flowers
are trimmed with careful hand.
careful pruning and weed killer
teaches them how to stand.
no thought is needed on their part
to think until they’re grown,
when they find they each can go
and wilt all on their own.
9/18/90
spiders are everywhere
no matter where you look
a spider could be there
nothing is spider-free
spiders come from everything
people make more spiders
it makes my skin crawl
like dozens of little spiders.
Who is that masked man
Who leaves those secret notes?
An enigma; who can say
For sure it is him or him
Or her.
No one really knows why
Or who or how or where it is
Unpredictable – you might say
Like the power of a phantom,
Or a flower.
[for Jamie and Nini]
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