Archive for November, 1990


Posted: November 21, 1990 in Poetry
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I thought in my chrysalis cocoon
that this caterpillar
was going to change to a
but with the soggy skin I left behind
were a lot of the things I had fought to find,
though now it looks like a cartoon.
certain people trap me behind their eyes
where I have to stand and stare at my own disguise:
fishing line
and plaster
and paper-mache.
who am I anyway?
I fought hard with myself
to earn some confidence in the cellar.
I invented assistance to help me dwell there.
never hurting anyone (rarely)
never believing myself (barely)
contemplating a change of scenery
and not just by macking local greenery.
I strung myself up in a silk hammock,
got stuck, read a book, talked
to myself more than normal for me
and wound up falling out of the tree,
a butterfly that for got how to…

Push to Start Dryer

Posted: November 20, 1990 in Poetry
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when the rain stops
I may go puddle-jumping
to clean my ashen soul
of dolphin shit
and warm mulch
from my imaginary treks
through the forest.

Untitled Poem #99

Posted: November 20, 1990 in Poetry
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shadows have much to speak of;
a depth of water holds many mysteries.
trees hold secrets that men have never dreamt of;
a stone whispers to pass the time.

Untitled Poem #98

Posted: November 20, 1990 in Poetry
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the mind works
like the spider spins;
a gossamer hammock
for unwary prey.

No-one’s Watching

Posted: November 20, 1990 in Poetry
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the universe is more fragile than you think.
let your billiard ball physics take note of it.
Things just outside paper thin partitions;
madness overwhelms the left-side brain
when the Right is given free reign.
don’t try to explain away the phenomenon —
your senses will rarely betray you:
listen, smell, touch, believe.
patterns are infinite, on and on,
beyond those boundaries we teach;
deafness we teach blindness we
handicap those who are gifted.
beware that which is just sleeping
the sleep of the age-old which may
be mistaken for death, the calling
of nothing. even awake
we sleep, dormant and helpless.
in dreams we pass away for a time
to roam the realms of memory;
dark forests of fears and toadstools,
a thousand and one nights I have
lain awake counting spiders’ webs,
drinking water that glazes frozen pools.
the pulse that lies beneath
the rough-edged bark of a weathered tree
to the precarious balance of an acorn wreath.
never are you quite alone enough
to say that no-one’s watching.

Stick Man and Rock Man

Posted: November 17, 1990 in Poetry
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I remember stealing through the woods
admiring the trees all the while
catching a magic glimpse of you
dancing alone with a smile.

walking along a seaweeded beach,
I play in the sand with you.
I build you castles for your delight
then walk home with sand in my shoes.

Sand and Sea

Posted: November 13, 1990 in Poetry
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I walked alone to the beach
To write poetry in the sand,
Just to have it washed away
By a wet and watery hand.

I stayed to watch the tide come in,
Salt tears ran down my face.
Not because my poem was gone
but for the beauty of the ocean’s embrace.


Posted: November 12, 1990 in Poetry
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Standing on an island
For the melting purple clouds in the sky
Let them go
So down burns the sun in all its glory
Palm trees weeping from the weight of their coconuts
The footprints I leave
In the sand of the beach
Remind me that I’ve been here before
Purse your lips and ignore me
My, my, the streams running pell-mell
From your eye
The shark fins circle
So many lazy fish.

Untitled Poem #96

Posted: November 6, 1990 in Poetry
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the innocence of sleeping children
makes me softly tread,
not to keep from disturbing the children
but that which is under the bed.