Posts Tagged ‘Cloud’

Remember This in Time

Posted: March 2, 1995 in Poetry
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I promise that someday
I will be faithful
To my journal again.
Another sacrifice
To the fires of my economy.
The poet-sap has dried,
Hardened to a cloudy yellow
But I guess beneath
This bark I’ve grown,
The blood still boils
And the words still run
Like antelopes or
Like a persistant brook.

Untitled Poem #146

Posted: February 11, 1993 in Poetry
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I am free of ties to glide the skies
and romp and play like a colt in a field
of clouds and grass and care no less
for life is a packet of sugar I eat
while chatting with a pretty girl
on the sidewalk where an ice cream cone
has fallen and looks like crayon or chalk
the color of strawberry milkshakes, easter eggs
and we watch the rain come in and get us
wet and warm and tropical release of angel’s tears.

[for Dawn Spinda]

I taste – a Liquor – never brewed
I toad – a Skunky – never shrewed
I paint – a Skyline – never blued
and the Gnat – not the Gent – is the Victor!

Cloud – of Music
Drink – of Smell
Golden Bees – aplenty!
The Gnat is always the Victor.

[for Robyn Bell]

Another Poem that is Untitled

Posted: January 24, 1993 in Poetry
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I know that something’s changed,
my bear’s stomach smells like you again
but I’ll yell to myself.

you come walking through my daydreams
as if you were some travelling Indian
who I must chase off my land.

my hair’s getting long and in my face;
both yours and mine, they’re red and brown
like all of this waterstained earth I see.

over this I fly, sortof falling from the sky
all around you, a shattered pane of glass
melting to dew on the tips of the new grass.

I go with no control like a paper in the winds,
scudding, a cloud, a castle;
help me find my center in all the blue.

Back from the House of Bedlam

Posted: January 2, 1993 in Poetry
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I AM STILL HERE
TO WASTE YOUR TIME,
BROADCASTING LIVE FROM THE LILYPAD,
I, APE, THE LITTLE MIRROR-COLLECTING
BOY WITH NO MOUTH,
WHO LIVES IN THE WHITE HOUSE OF BEDLAM.

I was surprised, too, that I still fight.
A room of dank dungeon walls collapsed
leaving me on a pinnacle of cloud height.
everything has fallen away from me
except (maybe) my grip on reality.

Eagle Feathers

Posted: November 27, 1992 in Poetry
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from my hair flutter many eagle feathers,
tied to the dark ends of curls,
framing my face in the chill wind
which flies over flat expanses:
the seas and the prairies.
it is this wind which cloaks
my feathered brothers and sisters
while they hunt with their keen eyes.
in these skies, dusted with clouds,
runs the horse of my spirit
and my name, glancing from
one end of the world to the other.
these eagle feathers tug at my hair
in the wind to tell me: fly! fly!

Friends in Need

Posted: November 4, 1992 in Poetry
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On the pinnacles of cloudless happiness,
I must reach down to pull my friends up.

In the depths of darkest sorrow,
I must push to keep friends above me.

If I have all my wealth in one glass,
Then they are the mead in my cup.

And when I have no strength for the morrow,
It is these riches that carry and love me.