Posts Tagged ‘Car’

I went to find my childhood
buried in the morass of my memory;
discarded in a moment of adolescence
trying to be an adult
before I knew what that was about.

So me and a shovel and a dream
go wading through the cattails and the frogs,
looking under lilypads and scouring the undersides of logs;
hopes waxing and waning with the flux of a dark moon
laying with my arms behind my head
in a dark room.

There was a little gold-gilded crown
once made of paper. . .
I thought I had drowned my youth
in a premature effort to be a man,
coated with cars, money, girls, sex, and truth,
white picket fences and two and one half kids,
a loving wife and instant happiness.

Ah, but so many can’t and so many others won’t
dig up the countryside grave of their little one,
content to weep and dream with a withered imagination,
or they chase ghosts of happiness in platinum nightdresses
taped to the part of the elephant they can still feel.

What Happens Now?

Posted: September 27, 1993 in Poetry
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when the nighttime
slips across the sky
like a teenage lover
out his window to put flowers
on his first girlfriend’s car,
I’m usually surprised,
even though it was I
who used to climb cautiously
out of my house
and bicycle through quiet orange-lit streets,
picking homeowner’s flowers along the way
to makeshift a heartfelt and beautiful bouquet –
an echo like a car going by
three streets over
in the middle of the night.

Untitled Poem #157

Posted: April 3, 1993 in Poetry
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a car travelling with my soul
in the passenger’s seat: this is time
and I watch fields of wheat breathe,
amber waves of grain…

an organ plays melancholy from a building
and people pass, they do not hear,
too busy looking down when I have stopped
to listen for the sound of the wind:
echoes and ghostlike spirits of memories.

I cannot explain the music I hear,
be it cacophony or pure, ringing clear,
perhaps the different drum I march to.

Geoff, Laura, Joe, Brian and I
went to the river to play outdoors
and to sing, sing ho for this, the life of a bear.
warm rocks, chilly water, and a rope
were for flinging ourselves through the air.
the sun and the wind bathed us in yellow hues.
music from the car ran its fingers
through the roadside oaks,
anticipating every curve,
and setting the bones that Brian broke.
wriggling our way over the mountains,
we witnessed a weaver of wood.

Roam Dog Town

Posted: December 24, 1991 in Poetry
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I think of my chaos of dogs in the dark:
down fall the trash cans; they saunter and sally
as we race away quick down the waterstained alley.
chiming in with great howls and loud barks.

four-legged and shining, we piss on all cars
snickering about owners asleep in their sheets
their dogs running loose all around in their streets
following the directions of the faraway stars.

Untitled Poem #108 and 1/2

Posted: April 19, 1991 in Poetry
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I sit by a silent road
Waiting for a car to go by
Racing the split-rail fence
To the lightning horizon.

One Car

Posted: April 5, 1991 in Poetry
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one car, parked.
in it: no one.
hunched over, coiled,
looking at me;
it grins:
“I could eat you”.