there are rats in the walls
of every relationship.
they knock about at night
or surprise you scurrying from the trash cans.
the glint of a narrowed eye or a chiselled tooth
or the sounds of skeletons being gnawed,
teeth clicking as they polish to white
the foundations of an unsteady heart.
Posts Tagged ‘Heart’
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Two Ten Penny Nails
Posted: July 1, 1993 in PoetryTags: Clouds, Frog, Halo, Heart, Hope, Love, Sky, Wings
I know that my heart rests while I slog
Through glaciered halls that know of no such frogs.
I tire and watch my halo and my wings;
They start to melt away like borrowed things.
The nails sunk through my heart like lovers’ frowns
Reach steely through the clouds into the ground
Below me where they drag out furrows that
Can chart my weaving course without a map.
As long as I can flutter through the days
Of filtered sunlight, jellied skies and haze,
I hope that somehow I can be rebuilt
To use these Cupid’s arrows well as stilts.
I don’t have very many pictures of my life;
no cute heart frames around me and my brother,
no portraits capturing me with any of my friends
so I can reminisce about them.
nothing but my memory is left
of the times I’ve spent with some of them
whom I remember but have no proof
that I knew them at all
except for a story or two I’ll tell too tall
and sometimes that is enough
when I’m in good form mnemonically
and I can picture my pictures easily
on my eyelids when they’re closed,
when I’m quiet and smiling a little
about some shenanigans with a figure from the past
who’s bigger than Abe Lincoln to me
or George Washington and his cherry tree
because he or she hails from my history.
I’ll remember them all when I have the time
just to stay put and write,
whittling my own likenesses of them out of paper
and colored ink; phrases and expressions
that I stole from each one of them
in order for me to memorize them;
it’s something I’m looking forward to doing later.
oh I hope for a natural disaster, too
just like you, so I can make do
with my own resources
and tame wild horses
to ride past the memories of fossil fuels.
just an earthquake or two
gentle enough to shake apart
the concrete and steel,
to crack the awful ribcage
around the city’s broken heart
barely beating, it can’t support
the far-flung extremities that it can’t feel,
worn roads like nerve systems
that are so slow to report.
sunder it with waves in the earth
and blame it on a poet’s curse.
Black Jack
Posted: June 6, 1993 in PoetryTags: Beach, Birds, Black, Cat, Dead, Eye, Fire, Flowers, Heart, Red, Rock, Skull, Water, Wing
I
and when the madness comes
she creeps around the corridors,
pausing to stomp on cats’ tails
pausing to drive in rusty nails
and slam subconscious doors
behind my eyes.
II
it would be easy one day
to fall down and stay,
not moving, wherever I was
and not respond to my rescuers;
to get placed away for refusing to speak
or move or do anything for myself.
so easy and tempting, just for a week.
I’m sure they’d find something to do with me.
III
I GO ON THIS VICIOUS CYCLE:
I love her forever.
Can I trust her?
I can trust her.
Will I love her forever?
I love her forever.
Can I trust her?
I can trust her.
Will I love her forever?
I GO ON THIS VICIOUS CYCLE.
IV
the air was full of birds,
these pigeons and seagullls
that I had disturbed
walking along the beach by myself
wondering if she’s all by herself.
but putting that aside
would we have walked on by
all of this wild-winged fuss
if it wasn’t just me but if it had been us?
V
keep on going until the pen runs out
and finally I might figure it out.
I’m pulling apart flowers for answers
and neither type of petal reassures
me of this thing I’d like to realize
is right or wrong or right before my eyes.
this pile of broken flowers, growing higher
is colored like a cheerful winter fire
but dead without the red that makes it gay
is my heart, ashen cold and worn away.
VI
I’m frozen in the moment
that I’ve jumped from a high place
trying for the water;
it’s not enough to miss the rocks.
frozen
in the
moment.
it is stealing over my face.
look closely. there’s the rocks.
VII
I made it to 21. like blackjack.
VIII
that Catholic skull that I dreamed of
at least once a year since I was seven or eight
was me, laughing at least once a year
that I was still stupidly here.
IX
the idea of breaking
so many hearts,
of making the many upset,
of shaking alll of these folks;
it seems like the ultimate cannonball
in the jacuzzi of life.
Impressions
Posted: April 30, 1993 in PoetryTags: Blue, Cat, Dreams, Eye, Flowers, Fountain, Gold, Heart, Mountains, Sleep, Stars, Tide
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.
Untitled Poem # 159
Posted: April 25, 1993 in PoetryTags: Heart, Magic, Mind, Smile, Time, Untitled
the heart is a marvellous thing.
it does not think with logic –
it “thinks’ in magic
so your mind usually takes
a bit of time to justify
what your heart says is right.
meanwhile your heart is smiling
and has its arms crossed
over its chest, very comfortable
especially if you’ve listened.
let go of my heart.
I don’t know
how you retained that part.
I thought I had cut
all of that sentiment out.
it seems like a Devil’s wart,
growing from the palm of my hand,
growing from the bottom of my foot,
growing like a tombstone from the center of my heart
regenerating and disgusting.
Rain Song
Posted: April 18, 1993 in PoetryTags: Angel, Clouds, Eye, Fears, Heart, Lightning, Pain, Rain, Sky, Song, Space, Storm, Tears, Thunder
I
I pray for rain nowadays when I see
Those dark clouds splayed above me, threatening.
I can’t always tell what rain will fall
Or what tears you’re crying to comfort me.
When the sunset’s burning and crowded for space
In the sky with your pain so apparent,
Your heart is tearing apart with these questions,
No answers; let it all fall as rain.
chorus
Go out and bathe and dance in those streetlights,
Let the nighttime come down as ink
With the rain, all your pain, it’s your tears, all your fears
And frustrations – they’ll leave you
Soaked and alone crying out for the joy of the rain.
II
Can you see the sky and how it mirrors your eyes
And your tears as they’re streaming down your face.
Do you think I can stay here and wait?
I’ve got to get up and play, get soaked and catch cold in your rain.
(chorus)
bridge
These heavens will fall like thunder but water
On you, so alone in your misery.
Drenched to the skin look within at your shine
Be an Angel and cry and it clears you inside
Just like the rain.
III
So when this storm has passed and
All the fury of lightning’s been spent,
Your strength may still ache but you’ll dry and be fine
Then maybe you’ll learn how to pray for the rain.
drums, call the drums,
beat the drums in a circle,
summon sound from your skin,
bone and muscled rhythms.
spin the spinners, earth born,
hearts beating taut, within,
throwing warm loops of blood
in long arcs through your bodies,
racing and rebelling into movement.
Song for a Bedsheet
Posted: March 24, 1993 in PoetryTags: Heart, Hope, Light, Mind, Night, Record, Song
I am really wondering if I’m lying to myself – you see
I’m good at what I do and that’s lying to myself.
Oh I hurt and I’m torn and don’t know what to I can do
I need to talk-to-a-certain-someone and that one is myself
when does it end? all the questions and waiting
for the time to come when it has worked itself out;
I can’t stand the surprises, both the good and the bad.
I think I crave some stability – this now I can do without
…and my heart strains and pulls
– my mind says we’ll be alright
but I find I can’t hold on to it all now, tonight.
am I losing control? do I want to? I might,
my senses shrieking away – my hands clenched too tight.
I think I’m falling and falling –
I haven’t moved; I’m right here.
I remember when I went crazy,
I laugh at when I was clear.
I know I’ll continue at slugging away through the days
staying broke, lost and hopeless, just counting the ways
and the time that I spend, I record it and write
until I can’t stand my pen and I turn off the light.
Untitled Poem #155
Posted: March 20, 1993 in PoetryTags: Cry, Dark, Heart, Light, Love, Untitled, Wood
I
now I know I love you
when I heard you sad because of me;
I realize things too late
and make due with writing poetry
to read or think on when
I cannot call or hold you with me;
my thoughts may wander briefly
but I will always love you truly.
II
when did my heart become so armored
that I couldn’t feel a thing?
like what I do or say to make you hurt
and never feel it sting me like it should.
did I disremember to knock on wood
when I found that I was enamored with you?
all I know is how you were curt
and I knew that I had made you cry;
I felt stupid not knowing why.
III
in the darkness
of being insensitive
perhaps I will light
my way with my task
of understanding
what I always
do
wrong.
A Sunrise over the Phone
Posted: March 19, 1993 in PoetryTags: Butterfly, Drum, Heart, Love, Star, Sun
I am the anvil that rings
with each hammer falling,
a star impacting, exploding, desiring, denying
that I love so deep, so much;
I feel when I hear you hurt, your voice
like butterflies in my ears,
the tautness of a drum
within my heart.
Untitled Poem #148
Posted: February 15, 1993 in PoetryTags: Boy, Crow, Druid, Eagle, Eye, Heart, Sand, Tree
wherever you walk
I watch from treetops
still your little blue boy.
my eyes haven’t suffered
the same sanding that my heart has.
I see like an eagle hunts
and my heart heals.
I see a sad Druid.
the crows raise eyebrows at me
but I show them my eyes
and they understand.
we’re all watching you
from our treetops.
A Valentine’s Poem
Posted: February 10, 1993 in PoetryTags: Candles, Flame, Fly, Heart, Mind, Night, Scream, Sky, Stars
I give you handfulls of candles
to set your skies ablaze with stars at night.
they’ll make you create and burn your hands
they’’ make you scream with hurt and let you fly away
into their flames – your mind.
do you think you’ve driven me so far away
that I won’t think of you on Valentine’s Day?
and in these candle’s flames
what constellations will you draw?
will you place them all around your heart
and think of me?
Sorcery
Posted: February 8, 1993 in PoetryTags: Anger, Dead, Fire, Friend, Guilt, Heart, Honesty, Love, Mind, Pain, Power, Sad, Shame, Truth
I have never felt power like this:
the strength to bear people’s friendship
without the artifices of forging my emotions
like the signatures of the dead
on a current document.
I find I’m liked for who I am
not everything I claim to be or wish I was;
pretense has always dampened the fires
that I was wanting to stoke;
I find the call is honesty and enthusiasm.
As soon as I found myself wonderful,
I couldn’t wait to show it of by being so –
no longer shivering in trying to be magnificent
so that I seem wonderful, I see myself
wonderful so everything I do from
my clear mind, my open heart, is wonderful.
The recognition of emotions for what they are
no matter how much they hurt in their true forms:
guilt or anger; shame, sadness; pain and love.
is a truth I must learn to find.
Laura Moore in Red
Posted: February 5, 1993 in PoetryTags: Cry, Eye, Hate, Heart, Laura, Love, Memories, Mind, Moore, Red, Sand, Tears, Time
I
damn you and your love;
wouldn’t it be so much easier
if one of us hated the other.
I can’t hate you,
believe me I’ve tried;
I curse and strain
but I just cry and cry,
crying out for lost love:
to be able to love
and forgive,
forget.
II
I could drown in the tears I’ve cried
about loving you: I hurt inside.
the touch of your fingers, your time
are promises, memories from my mind.
III
I was clear, free from the haze
that characterized my early days
of loving and living, doing my forgiving
of all the hurt that’s ever been done to me.
whatever I need, stays.
IV
I slide from place to place
as worry gets ahold of my face
to sculpt away. I can’t stand
the tentative way you touch my hand,
that pleading look deep in your eyes
makes my foolish heart soar and dive.
I’m holding all my hourglass sand
in the useless sieve I’ve made with my hands;
the more of it that trickles away,
the bigger grows that personal haze.
Fireflies in a Jar
Posted: February 1, 1993 in PoetryTags: Angel, Believe, Blood, Cry, Dreams, Faith, Firefly, Flesh, Friend, God, Heart, Man, Michael, Mirror, Monster, Night, Quality, Scream, Soul, Sound, Stars, Storm, Tears
I am still here;
encased in steel,
frozen in flesh;
I am still here.
the I, the me, and the one and only:
Michael, an Angel, this quality,
definitely the most beautiful man
regardless of position and opinion.
building and building my building,
my self: a tower of faith in feelings.
I’ve mortared each brick and laid each beam,
chosen the colors, welded the seams,
sweated past tears, made real my dreams.
I have constructed my cherished monster
and wobble like a weeble but I don’t
fall
down.
I doubt and I die
every day
sometimes I cry
and fade away,
but I’m always stuck with myself
so I’ve chosen to stick it out
until the morning after.
I’ve got to strip and scrub and look in the mirror
I get misunderstood and filthy bad-mouthing myself;
the more I scrub the more I bleed, feeling clearer –
addicting, this hurting and cleaning myself.
in that soulless mirror
is my only true friend
and he’s true as far as you believe him.
weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.
I won’t scream anymore, I won’t make a sound
on finding my construction falling apart
snapping cables in the storms of my heart.
there is nothing that can ever take me away
I’ve done too much damage already.
twenty-one years old, a missile heaven-sent
and where god has thrown me I’ve made my own dent
to sit in and scowl or wave to my stars
as they streak by in the night, fireflies in jars.
Untitled Poem #145
Posted: January 26, 1993 in PoetryTags: Angel, Dream, Earth, Eye, Heart, Queen, Raiin, Sky, Sleep, Wind
you left me with a scarf
which smelled like your summer rain;
you had worn it in your hair
and I had closed my eyes.
I touched it to my face
and imagined how your breath
would come so close to me
and how I’d hear your heart beating.
you left your scarf behind
a treasure for me to discover
and hold up to the sky
and wear like a queen’s favor.
the scarf is by my bedside
where I can faintly smell your scent.
I will go to sleep tonight
clutching this in my hand.
you, angel, have left your mark
to remind me of my dreams
and how you came to me
as the smell of earth and wind.
Scarecrow
Posted: November 20, 1992 in PoetryTags: Crow, Death, Flame, Heart, Love, Man, Mind, Scarecrow
I
to look at you as a scarecrow
doesn’t work; you don’t scare me
like that.
my heavy heart just tends to grow
heavier; strength starts to tear me
apart.
II
you are a singular flame
that sears me awake
from a comfortable death
of being a man with no name.
I need you to love me somewhat;
you must speak your mind
thinking through every breath,
knowing exactly where to cut.
III
this is for no one else but you,
but don’t think you’re not the one.
this could mean any number of things.
Rabbit Girl
Posted: October 22, 1992 in PoetryTags: Boy, Eye, Girl, Glasses, Heart, Home, Rabbit, Rainbow
wet rabbit girl,
where do you go?
know puzzle piece fits you
and my rainbow glasses miss you
when you’re gone so long.
private poetry
to roll in and chew
– a mouthful of wet paper,
foam caught on a branch
in a river.
I stand as a boy
with both hands
up and out, offering you
my heart
with hopeful eyes.
if not, I’ll go home.
A Field of Flowers and Green Grass
Posted: September 13, 1992 in PoetryTags: Eye, Heart, Shadow, Woman
woman made of curves and shadow,
hair like a field of flowers and green grass.
I love the smooth roads of your eyelids,
your eyebrows,
the swell of muscles beneath your silky skin.
I lose myself in the hollows of your hips.
the inexplicable beauty and timelessness.
the knife-curve of your tucked calves.
I glide as if underwater down the small of your back
counting vertebrae as bubbles or fish.
I trail my fingertips across the moccasin leather
of the bottoms of your feet
and feel the ripple of power through my palms
on the tops of your thighs.
I trace the curve of your chin
with the bridge of my nose, like a kitten.
I lay my head on your breasts,
I place my hands on your eyes,
I wrap my wrists in your hair,
I balance my heart on the tip of your nose.
A Hole in the Sky
Posted: July 24, 1992 in PoetryTags: Crickets, Eye, Flame, Forest, Heart, Night, Sound, Star, Stars, Trees, Wood
I thought I saw a star fall
In Sherwood Forest.
I wonder what it means
About our world.
I swear I saw a flame walk
Through this grove of trees,
Stepping from curl to curl
Of the bark on the forest floor.
I cannot grasp what my mind
Is saying; not yet,
Speaking from the corners of my eyes,
Running past my nose
At odd times, odd scents, odd sounds.
Sometimes I feel that
I’m surreptitiously burying
My heart again
In the middle of the night,
Something someone is whispering
For me to do.
Lying awake as I imagine the fall
Of gravedigger dirt
Cascading in sodden clumps
Upon my wooden soul.
The light wanes as I write,
Listening to the stereo of birdcalls
Scratching at wood,
And the organs of crickets
Calling and calling
The stars to the night’s work,
All except one.
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