Stay drunk, you;
Keep worrying.
Preoccupied
With what’s next.
Can’t sleep
Without churning
Sheets like shorebreak.
Tumbled concrete,
Husking winds,
Hissing palm trees,
Gravel bullets
Of sky-spat rain.
The hole is growing
Withdrawn chill
Bring out the star storm
Get it over with.
Posts Tagged ‘Star’
0
Sleep is coming in her own time.
Soon, but not right now.
I hear her footsteps in the courtyard
And smell her in the still air.
Sometimes my words fail me;
I can’t think, and my poetry sucks.
But keep trying, trying, trying
From my blanket-swaddled lair.
Preceded by gifts of yawns
Tearing up my eyes,
Filling them with dust and starlight
Beckoning to dreamlit vistas.
Fighting the unseen entity
Trying to tell myself that I don’t want to
Mind slagging into smooth film
And willpower saturates to crystals.
Once upon a sky,
I saw, imprinted: smoke
from the pretty bonfire
of each lie, lie, lie.
I saw this thread from afar,
black and hanging from God’s suit:
my hair stood on end from the heat;
it’s burning bright like a star.
The twin scratches at my insides,
carving words in my skin,
inciting organ against organ,
organizing rebellions within.
one tear that came from the corner of my eye
balanced on the dry skin of my cheek; I
picked it up with my thumb and forefinger,
a prism of sadness in which your picture lingers.
I drew my eye near carefully enough
wondering if the force of my gaze was too rough,
then placed this halo in the sky as a star
to mark my Bethlehem: to let you know where you are.
Imitation of the Goshin Traveller’s Spell
Posted: April 16, 1993 in PoetryTags: Bed, Fire, Love, Night, Spell, Star
“I invoke thee,
thou diamond fiery very majestic star”
from your bed of night-pillows
and molten stardust;
your gaze may guide my deerlike footsteps
through the overgrown gardens
of my lover’s distrust.
Where You Are in the World
Posted: April 13, 1993 in PoetryTags: Dreams, Love, Mind, Night, Rhyme, Sleep, Star, Sword, Tree, Warrior, World
a star winked out in the nighttime sky
and did not return my love
as I cast into the heavens;
a sword standing still
riding my mind like the hip of a warrior.
one oboe quietly mediates the tree’s disputes
about who is shading who
as I am walking through.
there is no medium for art
like the dreams dreamed when all alone
and happy with where you are in the world.
writing to be poetic, prolific
I sometimes wind myself soporific
scratching at the paper making nothing terrific,
just words that rhyme
a line at a time or three
cavorting in silent melodies
like those oboes, sleepy in the trees.
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.
Further Thoughts of Nathaniel Bishop
Posted: December 17, 1992 in PoetryTags: Bishop, Blood, Book, Child, Mind, Soul, Star
My dearest Ursula is just the kind
To wilfully abandon all her soul
To satiate my Master’s guessless mind
And pour her fiery blood into my bowl
Of copper wrought from star-flung metal
Which rests upon the altar ‘neath my books.
This pact of ours is something left to settle:
A child? If only it won’t have my looks!
A Bishop heir! You’ll lose the Langsford end
And you’ll be mine, or more correct, you’ll see
That you to great Agatha I might send
And you she’ll give to Him That Should Not Be.
To Bishop, yea, the fateful book was sent,
We need results from an experiment…
Bear at the Back of my Closet
Posted: October 6, 1992 in PoetryTags: Bear, Closet, Flesh, Grasshopper, Imagination, Light, Man, Night, Star
I am the bear at the back of my closet,
warm and furry.
but nobody knows it.
I am the star cut in the flesh on the back of my hand.
you, however, are a fig-ment
of my imagination, subject to my rules.
and you are whatever I choose to make of you.
you are a grasshopper, or a shiny penny,
or a bunch of balloons third graders let go
with notes attatched to the ribbons.
you are roadkill, or a lonely sock in the trash.
I am the wildest man with this imagination;
the most dangerous with this pen.
I am, most of all, the bear at the back of the closet
whose winking eye has been mistaken for a star
that you use as a night-light.
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.
Depeche Mode Imitation
Posted: July 20, 1992 in PoetryTags: Blood, Dark, Depeche Mode, Eye, Moon, Rose, Shadow, Sky, Star, Storm
I saw a star in the sky,
Watching, a flickering eye.
I felt your breath in the storm.
I shiver and try to keep warm.
I touched the moon in the flood
Of words like the coursing of blood.
In the rose warmth of your gaze,
I could have watched you for days.
An eagle has flown from the land
And just you and I understand
The shadows that caressed my face,
The darkness of our empty space.
I have always wanted a telescope
To drag to a high place to see a star
Or two, rubbing my cold hands together
And shivering with my breath down around
My shoulders, waiting for the chance to sight
A poet, Robert Frost and friend, themselves
Looking through their star-splitter for a glimpse
Of something magic, some merry treasure.
padding softly
through starry halls
lined with glass trophy cases
searching for my rubber ball
bounced once too high;
searching many interesting places.
lots of animal heads
in the glass museum.
big teeth and manes.
you can see them, all dead,
but no rubber ball.
they give me the creeps
just the same.
I have so many toys
I don’t know what to do
with them all;
guns and men and jeeps
scattered around the floors
while I’m looking
for just one.
I
I beat a trash can like a drum
in the alley behind your house
at night when the stray cats gather
on the fence around my feet.
we are all going
to fly to the dark side of the moon.
II
I see the big sack of your skin,
hung up as if in a slaughterhouse
and God stuffs in your muscles,
your organs, your soul;
sews you up and throws you to earth
to land like a leaping antelope.
III
I curse the dawn licking the city skyline
clean of the octopus darkness.
I hold my rings up to the last star
and plunge back into the timelessness
of the dirty brick alleyways.
I would like to bounce
From star to star for you
Just getting giggles from
Their shiny-eyed points.
the silence
is frightening
to my eyes.
one moment
of starry life
to flare
and die
like a gunshot.
I fall down.
I fail you all.
but
I
leave
you
this.
I’m waiting to hear the rain
On the roof, fallen from the stars
Listening for the moonlight sound
Of the ink of the mollusc night
Seeping down through the clouds
To wake me in my sleep.
Only as I’m falling to sleep
Can I imagine the plummeting rain
Supportive of the windswept clouds
Obscuring the world of hoary stars
And in the corners of the night
I cannot hear a sound.
I steal away without a sound
To the land I wander in my sleep,
Dead under the silent night,
Tucked in for tomorrow by the gentle rain,
Guarded by those winking stars
Beneath the halo of the clouds.
Floating buoyed through the clouds
Amidst the growl of thunder’s sound,
I gaze upon the veil of distant stars
Through eyes opened wide in magic sleep.
The tears of wonder fall as rain
To the gods of that wintry night.
In the vaulted halls of timeless night
I wander blindfolded by the clouds
Through my mind the pictures rain
Exploding violent in muted sound,
Rocking my ancient soul to sleep
With dreams of newborn stars.
I pray to those alien stars;
I close my eyes each coming night.
The unpredictable tide of sleep
Rolls thick as stormy ocean clouds.
I was illuminated by the awesome sound,
And woke to the wistful rain.
The stars are hidden behind the clouds.
The night has fallen with accustomed sound.
I sleep, waiting for the rain.
[sestina]
I Wish…
Posted: January 22, 1991 in PoetryTags: Believe, Blue, Bones, Dinosaur, Dog, Dolphon, Dreams, Flowers, Green, Gum, Jello, Money, Orange, Star, Whipped Cream
I wish you a dinosaur and a penny
I wish you enchiladas and dolphins
I wish you love and chap stick
I wish you coconuts and grassy hills
I wish you an earring and pencil lead
I wish you whipped cream and blood
I wish you happiness and pen ink
I wish you a treehouse and Apple Jacks™
I wish you blue and green and orange
I wish you beer and Lemonheads™
I wish you dreams and brown leaves
I wish you words and squirt guns
I wish you chewing gum and piranhas
I wish you luck and three bird feathers
I wish you beef jerky and yo mama
I wish you would and brass
I wish you wings and belief
I wish you days and several candles
I wish you toenails and bobsleds
I wish you gold chains and thermostats
I wish you negligees and carpeting
I wish you a bag of marbles and bones
I wish you the stars and a flower
I wish you incense and Rolaids™
I wish you a Twix™ and a pipe wrench
I wish you courage and money
I wish you a huge slobbering puppy dog with a big tongue
I wish you Jello™ and time
I wish you wood grain and shivers
I wish you letters and Coca-Cola™
I wish you.
Untitled Poem #101
Posted: January 10, 1991 in PoetryTags: Blood, Blue, Eye, Green, Leaf, Mountain, Ocean, Pain, Sky, Star, Trees, Untitled, Yellow
I crawled and crawled and crawled through this
Dark mountain of wet bloody clay clawing by chunks
Of big puppy chow kibble breaking my nails
From the dirt wedging under them inflamed and
Painful falling clumsily at the side of the precipice
Barking lacerations down the cliffside thousands
Of feet to the tree leaf ocean below where I
Crashed through the pretty green carpet to
Pachinko my way limb to limb from limb
Down to land crawling my way under hot wet
Underbrush wiping my faces with their
Leathery-thorny branches twigs under my
Eyelids parched streatching burned by the
Twinkie-colored sand under the trees
Broiled by a starry yellow sun in a blue sky
Chopped up by the stringy branches of the jungle
Dissected sunlight lay strewn on the ground
Pulsing, heating the loam and roots to consciousness
As I crawled and crawled and crawled to be with you.
I bet I could find you, Laura,
in the highest branches of a happy tree,
dangling your feet from the lofty limbs
as if they were dipped in a silver stream.
I bet I could find you, Laura,
in the whipped cream meringue of a ticklish tide,
splashing about with a silly grin,
the sea reflecting the stars in your eyes.
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