never never and maybe
later gone again like silver
fish darting from shadows
ever to be caught?
the ideas stumble
catch and crumble
splayed on the concrete
and burning from
the sun’s heat.
Archive for January, 1994
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When does it all come crashing down;
a sawed-through tree trunk,
an old building downtown —
this balancing act of teacups and champagne flutes,
china, crystal, candles,
coffee, coriander and cinnamon.
Sanity on low wattage wire
heating up in the house walls
threatening to start a fire
when the force of gravity falls.
they’re the cries of burning cities,
cities burning now,
cities that have burned before,
and cities that will burn again
or are waiting to burn.
No one sees the twisted faces
in the smoke from the corner store
that neighbors used to frequent
for cigarettes and milk;
we’ll all walk past the couple
sifting through the hot ashes
that evaporate their tears
before they disturb the soot.
Humbled in an Easy Chair
Posted: January 24, 1994 in PoetryTags: Cat, Demon, Dreams, Gargoyle, Human, Night, Skull, Trees
Tonight the old feelings
come back;
the old feelings
of enemies — long ago
when humankind believed
and could see their mistakes
unclothed as Demons.
They crouch in tree foliage
and prowl like cats
or gargoyles on the roof;
they know they work through dreams
and they know we have forgotten
our humble beginnings
in the depth of an easy chair.
They come to crack skulls open
and to tinker with your subconscious,
safe in your self-imposed anesthesia
of TV dinners and microwaves,
of ottomen and furniture never used,
of blinders and bit and reins
grown familiar;
you’ve grown resigned.
Again on the wings of happiness,
Again from the one I love.
How much forcing, to and fro
Does it take to let it go?
And you’ll read this,
And you’ll roll your eyes,
Sigh and express your disgust
At my behavior.
Flavor it with examples;
Our life is rife with my fault.
Sometimes I can’t do enough.
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