Posts Tagged ‘Untitled’

Untitled Poem #174

Posted: December 14, 1993 in Poetry
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thank you
for saving me
from freezing
to death in the depths
of my heart;
any more pain would have
frozen it through,
making it so brittle
that even a kind glance
would have fractured it
into too many pieces to restore
to the glory I am warm in
with you and a whole heart.

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.

Untitled Poem #172

Posted: November 6, 1993 in Poetry
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This inexplicable heaviness of my heart
comes when it understands
and the remainder of me doesn’t;
yet it holds the responsibility,
and everything else must follow.

Untitled Poem #171

Posted: October 18, 1993 in Poetry
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wow Michael what a way to get back into
writing in your poetry journal:
a little scotch,
a little blood,
a little scotch in your blood,
[a little blood in your scotch]
and you’re back to begging
that it’s all over.

Untitled Poem #170

Posted: October 3, 1993 in Poetry
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lost in the dark,
sometimes I sit down wherever I am
and wait for the morning to come,
stealing through the thick air
and lightening the darkness,
like highlights in your hair.

Untitled Poem #169

Posted: August 7, 1993 in Poetry
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we write poems when our tongues tie
together in my mouth, behind your lips;
unspoken words like unnoticed snow
in the shade of a tree in the high mountains.

Untitled Poem #168

Posted: June 14, 1993 in Poetry
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the stars swim down
through wicker-woven clouds
to say goodnight to your beauty.
I say goodnight to your beauty,
too, though I wish I was a star like you,
exploding over millions of miles
or quietly winking from farther away.

Untitled Poem #167

Posted: June 14, 1993 in Poetry
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I sing and I sing and I sing
to you of dreams I’ve had
and notions that came to me
while I watched you sleeping
and I sang them softly
to you into the little cup of your ear
which never overflows;
it listens and holds all of my nonsense,
but only while you’re sleeping.
only while you’re sleeping.

Untitled Poem #163

Posted: May 15, 1993 in Poetry
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when the dew-drops poise
on blades of grass I like to
wait until they fall
before I kiss your smooth brow
when I must wake you from sleep.

Untitled Poem #162

Posted: May 4, 1993 in Poetry
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yet, never alone, the company
of those who flicker candle-flames
always keep me entertained
with wishing you were here.

Untitled Poem #161

Posted: May 4, 1993 in Poetry
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no sleight of hand by any season
could console me for the loss of your smile
of girlish enthusiasm if a trick of my own
has caused you some fleeting delight.

Untitled Poem #160

Posted: April 29, 1993 in Poetry
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what is life without a smoke and a beer
freely given and freely recieved
like the love from your friends?
life’s little joys to be consumed
and forgotten in the moment.
happiness tends to be transitory
like the light zipping past you from the sun
or one smoke and one beer when they’re done.

Untitled Poem # 159

Posted: April 25, 1993 in Poetry
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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.

Untitled Poem #158

Posted: April 23, 1993 in Poetry
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a spray of flowers
erupting from a glass vase
is a frozen firework
of love from you.

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.

Untitled Poem #156

Posted: March 22, 1993 in Poetry
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each time I turn a page
I wonder if it is already written –
not like as in I’ve done this before
or it’s something I’ve forgotten

– but rather if Fate or Destiny has called
and their webs are woven invisibly;
the strokes of this pen color in
what they’ve decreed delicately.

Untitled Poem #155

Posted: March 20, 1993 in Poetry
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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.

Untitled Poem #153

Posted: March 15, 1993 in Poetry
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these poems are chunks of my mind;
sometimes they’re raw and unkind,
but they are always what I’m thinking
even if (especially if) I’m drinking
and I know I convice myself sometimes
that I’m guilty of various crimes
but when I see I’ve written that I don’t care
is when I’m falling again into despair.
I hate that feeling coming through
and I know that you hate it, too.

Untitled Poem #152

Posted: March 7, 1993 in Poetry
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big and small
and sometimes with a tail
that is clutched
by twisting hands
of nervousness
I try to write like you do.

no starting out
with an I
but statements that swing
through the sky
and sometimes like tuning a guitar
they’ll rhyme.

Untitled Poem #151

Posted: March 7, 1993 in Poetry
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there’s a shadow who lays on my windowsill
from the crow who sits on the telephone wires
and if I wasn’t home reading up your poetry
I’d be out in a forest setting fires.

Untitled Poem #150

Posted: February 22, 1993 in Poetry
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I can’t help thinking of what you’re writing
my red-haired twin of poetry and sorcery;
a pen and a sword are our two-fisted fighting,
to roll back the sheets of what you and I’ll be.

Untitled Poem #149

Posted: February 22, 1993 in Poetry
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A Druid has stood
In the green of my woods,
A forest of lines of verse.
The light from her eyes
Has given me my eagles
Which soar through my nighttime skies.
I hunt for the words
As mice run from an owl
And stand them in bowls;
Bouquets of flowers
to please me.

Untitled Poem #147

Posted: February 11, 1993 in Poetry
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I can only know
that time will tell me when
I can be in love again –
meanwhile, what do I do?

love has struck me down
and lifts me higher and higher
each day is consumed in fire
but I’m not quite sure for who.

I am a poet – I dream
and emotions may come easily
but this flood is confusing me;
I’m not sure what is right.

this horrible uncertainty
an important indecision
melting myself with derision
but not shedding any light.

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]

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.