Friday, July 31, 2015

The Anti-Day





















The Anti-Day

If only, we think, decline could be
absolute as its reputation—
a sinking by slow foretold degrees
behind a cliff brightness
backlights to black,
aweing the mourners’ glances
with Turneresque shades
of sepulchral attrition....
                                     
But no—subsiding whispers
to the too attentive eye—
I’ll not be held to a schedule
of decay, denied my tricks and reversals,
my kit bag of paradox.
And so, with dusk already clotting, 
a ray shoots straight out
from the distant wall

through a crack no ant could navigate,
or a glow suffuses clouds
from below, an expected effect,
but not in hues of freshest peach and
rose without a hint of melancholia.
And now, merveille des merveilles
the disappeared white disc pops up
again above the rim,

wobbling with a shimmer akin
to heat haze, but it’s no mirage:
blood reds and fateful gloaming are done,
it really means to climb a triumphant
arc back again, cross sky’s                   
stock trajectory and undo extinction,        
paralysing with joy
and perplexing resignation.


Friday, July 24, 2015

On Coming into Possession of a Diary




On Coming into Possession of a Diary

            a metastasizing sonnet

The giant cast no shadow as he walked.
Which made the things and people that he loved
                                                love him back,
knowing that he could hurt them and would not.

No dubious darkness such as trailed their lives,
cross-hatching each bright gesture with its own
                                                undoing,                           
trailed his. What he did, he did entire:                              

Dug wild leeks and coaxed from stone a garden,
drank beer from a sweating glass in sunset-
                                                purpled air,
built a trim shed, fought enemies, kept friends.

Solid in life and solider in death,
he feared no discovery and so he was
                                                discovered,
sealed in secrecy even from himself.

But where will revelation make a home
when orphans charged with its keeping have learned
                                                to live outdoors?
The one sewn into his long shucked shadow.

The other tending his elected sun....



Friday, July 17, 2015

small batch





Common Plight

Everyday soldier at home with weapons, trained
to kill with them, caught in an endless ceasefire.

            *


Accounting

Darkness keeps a careful book,
absolutely strict and utterly indifferent to the just.
Whatever walks in light casts shadow,
whether worn by itself or grafted to another’s back.

*


Shards

the pleasure of right action

   soft rain after drought  


_________________________


joyful    sorrowful            deep

_________________________


 quest
      for
  less

            *


The Danger

(an addendum to Browning)

Always reaching and reaching too far
     too far too far too far
can make of grasp a fantasy act
without power to add or subtract
     or fully attract
     or really bar—


            *


Door Too Fast  

Old man pulling from that side
while I push from this, lost in thought,

not seeing him through the little window.

The door flies open, sending us both                
scrambling to stay upright on the slippery tiles.


            *


August 15 2012

The world is small
and stretched tight like a drum

Everywhere I go                                     
I hear your quiet footsteps beside me

______________________________


Who has not seen
the glow of loved ones
vanish, never to return?

Who has not seen
each night the pitted moon
rise here, rise there?


            *


It Can Be Hard to Tell                                   

Half-stoned on a new drug, or just
another sleepy being in slow springtime.
Brain-molecules swaddling synapses
in cotton junk, or a seed shrugging
tumid shoulders in damp dark, tuned          
to the rumour of warm, light-filled
presences that will require nothing.


               *


Keeping On 

     vita longa ars brevis

So hard
& rare
not

to get worse


            *


Allowance                             

(i)

So many great poems lost                                                     
because an inner voice said That is not
what a poem should be, not what it should contain.

And if for poems one reads: moments, hours, lives?


(ii)

My gate so narrow,
only rarest diamonds pass.                    

My gate so wide,
diamonds tumble among the trash!




Thursday, July 9, 2015

Biography (x 2)




Biography

(ed) the simple past

and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened
and nothing interesting was happening
and then something interesting happened




Biography

(n’t) the negative contraction

knowing (but not really) who i was
knowing (but not really) who i wasn’t
knowing (but not really) what i was
knowing (but not really) what i wasn’t
knowing (but not really) when i was
knowing (but not really) when i wasn’t
knowing (but not really) where i was
knowing (but not really) where i wasn’t
knowing (but not really) why i was
knowing (but not really) why i wasn’t
knowing (but not really) how i was
knowing (but not really) how i wasn’t