Posts Tagged ‘Fear’

A Hole in the Futon

Posted: May 25, 1995 in Poetry
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Demons stroke my face
There, there now – that’s not so bad
As I lay here, shaking
Pushing all the stuffed animals
Onto the bed, in a pile
To somehow try to compensate
For the lack of you on the futon,
Because you’re not here
You could be anywhere
But the demons are,
Those old familiar fears
That you always smell first.

St. Michael and I

Posted: December 8, 1994 in Poetry
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Scales and a sword and a pair of wings
Is not what I have —
I look at St. Michael,
My namesake Angel,
And I want to hug a bear in fear
Of being capable of such judgement:
Fair and exacting deeds.
I find I’m wrong or mistaken
Many times a day:
My own carelessness
Or oversight, usually.
St. Michael has no forethough to him,
Just perfect scales,
The means to weigh is science of judgement,
And a flaming sword to enforce the verdict.
Keeping the Garden of Eden
And throwing Lucifer from the vaults of Heaven:
St. Michael — it is he “who is like God”;
my tenuous relationship:
a shared name,
a Zodiac sign,
and a fascination with blades.

Untitled Poem #173

Posted: November 9, 1993 in Poetry
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sometimes I finger the scars on my heart
in the dark, all alone,
rough ribbons of hardened tissue;
they are braille lines of poetry;
railroad tracks to remind me of my innermost fears.

They feel almost skeletal,
and read like the scriptures of God,
and sting like the scorpions of God.

The Lift

Posted: September 4, 1993 in Poetry
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I wait with the irrational fears.
I’m packed in the same elevator as them,
standing shoulder to shoulder;
they’re all in business suits and
they look almost friendly.
but it is just because they recognize me
from my frequency in riding the lift.
my relationship to them is this:
we see each other on the elevator,
which can take a long time
to decide which floor it is going to
let me out on.

The Decay of a Cartoon

Posted: July 28, 1993 in Poetry
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The poet sojourns
to the real world,
concerned with education and finances,
too busy with real matters
to watch his own walk
like a bluejay on a telephone line
assuming it is his,
too bust to enjoy
the glances at his jester clashed clothing
and his odd squatting posture,
recounting endless stories
of dubious origin.
The decay of a cartoon
into another weary act of flesh and blood
is done through weight,
self-inflicted,
burdens of soggy peat responsibility
and the yokes of limiting your own strength.

I fell from 20 feet up, from a tree branch
and I landed on my head;
when I should have been dead,
(I was 10)
I walked into the house
to bandage my gashes
so that Mom wouldn’t worry about me.

I tell myself I can’t do that now
because my weight has quadrupled
from all of these woes I balance on my nose
trying to smile around them
everyday at other people,
and their circus tricks;
jugglers and mimes and tightrope walkers,
sometimes the fear of falling shows as plain as day.
It’s getting heavier and higher and
we’re all being thrown more things to juggle.
So if I fell from that tree
would I end up worrying so much on the way down
that I’d break my neck?
Or could I bounce like the balls I juggle?

Salvaging Laura from the Trash

Posted: February 28, 1993 in Poetry
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you tried to throw your poetry away
but I have discussed it thoroughly
with your own Dolphin
and the conclusion we came to
is: no way.
we found it together
in a pile of papers
sticking out of the trash
that I casually looked through
to see if you’d done
just this type of thing.
love letters I never saw,
things you never spoke of,
I never knew half of what you thought.
I see that you fear just like me.
I see that you think of death as a seductress.
I see that you feel; you’re a poet unrivalled,
and
I
see
you
think
it’s
trash.

Interview With an Angel

Posted: February 22, 1993 in Poetry
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no wings, no halo,
no beatific expression
of heavenly rapture.

on interviewing an Angel,
he scratched his head
and was most like any other man.

I’m five foot eleven,
one hundred and forty pounds
(give or take five for the season)
no, there’s no particular reason
I should be renowned
as an Angel from heaven.
by the way, I’m a Libra.

I just do the best that I can.
that is angelic.
I love and hate and fear,
I learn and hurt and feel.
but to the best of my ability,
with the tools God has given me;
other than that I’m just a man
struggling with the rest of my kin
to keep faith with the Angel within
and to dream.