leaving

you know, at least we can say,
when we're at the bottom of the stairs,
we can tell ourselves, you know,
at least we made it this far.




3/30/09

sand

it's dry, like the inside
and so very thirsty.
i watched the clicking numbers pass, coughing
flu and smoke, sullen Muse withdrawn.
words that sometimes flowed, now scrape
on the burdened underside, chipping graffiti from the 70s.
oh, it smells like piss
but the silence feels so warm:
i'll crouch here 'til i hear clarity.
there's nothing else to do.




3/28/09

the muse

oh, but i was never heretic, that i could so suspend--
liquid, is belief! cavern waves echo off my hollow skin.
i am Female, in words unutterable, and Male
through such repeat repeat repeating i feel and see:
it's begging me to stop. (or the other way round?)
it gets everywhere! everything and everyone,
within them, or instead of them. Music! silent vibrations
keep us alive, we press these rhythms to serve biology.
(or the other way round?) but patience, patience love, let the song
and everyone finish together, let every paint drip fall,
as we sit by to watch her death, so let the muses
cast their filmy gaze hereward, feel such ice and fire
penetrating through: suspend, o never suspend,
only pray belief never pierce you wholly through.




3/15/09

walk

delicious fog and sweet, sweet gloom;
dim sidewalk puddles ripple! reminiscing
of a long-forgotten forested midday dusk,
thick with life. Earth's sharp half-dark
excites and threatens us: remember Her
nude, unpaved. gods murmur thunder from afar.

"we jumped foxhole to foxhole" said the bald man
to the college boy with fancy hair; wrinkled splotch
pushed out around one eye. he was serious, his
$4 coffee balanced in a weakened hand: we are walking out,
they are sitting by the door. the boy tries
looking serious. gods murmur thunder from afar.




3/11/09

victor

hey! you've won the war! but
is your heart prepared to rule?
do the Fates & Saints rejoice?
no, no: those who rule ask not
of their own souls; for those who conquer
Self,
seldom find others necessary to dominate.




3/6/09

8

silence: but not.
clocks, computer fans, a sink swallowing water
and the indomitable air pumped in from
that nice day i can see they're having outside.
the attorneys are talking, next office over:
mutually feigning interest to kill time (creating
an even worse silence). their desperate amusement
crescendos! and syllables trickle down my side of the walls.
someone's coming, in measured footsteps; it's the
secretary: "did you--?" no. next time i will.
her voice is high, strained, she's sick. her retreat fades into
papers, memos, phones, a door closing; Diane coughs.
as offices go, i can have no complaints, except--
except--




3/3/09