Archive for April, 1993

Impressions

Posted: April 30, 1993 in Poetry
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you’re a kitten curled up
after a day of curious exploration,
ears twitching with dreams
and unconscious poise,
lulled asleep by the intricate rhythm
of your heart rattling in its cage.

you’re two shiny blue eyes like children
on Christmas day, lips slightly parted
and twinkles streaming like the stars
in the Milky Way, one languid arm
of our beautiful, beautiful galaxy.

you’re one sunrise that explodes slowly
over sleepy violet mountains,
the opening of a gigantic flower
or a treasure chest at the end of a quest;
all pouring gold in fountains and cataracts
into the tide around my feet.

Scalping for Love

Posted: April 30, 1993 in Poetry
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like an addiction, an Indian
– scalped me and I liked it
without my hair to hide behind
naked and bare to the attacks that never came
from between your ears,
just soothing fingers
which gripped my arms for a moment
and then let go like a diver
leaving a springboard.

the most damnable thing
is that I’m wistful, how it could have been;
a cliff by the ocean, powdery earth
and a fistful of the tough grass
to keep me from falling
into a grey-green sky;
an ocean with waves and tarnished sparkles
to lap at the leaden bluffs
where I first remember dreaming
of being in love with a woman.

What Happens Next

Posted: April 30, 1993 in Poetry
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hopefully I’ll be
hushed up to your family
over a couple of awkward conversations
where you tell relatives
that I’m fine
and then explain the mistake.

A Coal, a Cancer

Posted: April 30, 1993 in Poetry
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somewhere I have left a coal,
a cancer, burning; fond memories
concerning my love for you
and I am loathe to stamp it out
or fan it into flame.

there is a sadness in my eyes;
they’ve watched the indecisions
that make me so utterly human
– this is how I make the time
that is worn on my face.

More Potential

Posted: April 29, 1993 in Poetry
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I
catch myself
looking at my hands
and how I trust
in them.
they hold and play,
they press and grasp and fold,
capable of killing,
forcing
things
along my way;
they’re just barely under control.

Amazing

Posted: April 29, 1993 in Poetry
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and for a split second he paused
figuring out how he got here,
a room full of people dressed in color
swirling as if the floor
was too hot to touch.
he never wanted as much
to stop the music, wonder where
he learned to move like this,
a stutter step that you can’t resist
admiring: sculpture in motion –
everyone knows he creates as he goes
– so it comes full circle like his limbs.