Wednesday, November 30, 2011


Had some other things to do today, so I took a poem I had done a long, long while back and remixed it so to speak, changing a few words, structuring it a little and adding in a bit of projective verse.  Am working on some new pieces as well, and am planning on getting around to catch up on all the sites I've been not able to visit the past few days.  Anyhow.

Rain keeps dropping
at my feet,
I look up
To the grey cloaked sky
and watch the drops fall
and watch the drops fall d

The grass fills
Its thirst is quenched
The water pools on the pavement
Into cracks
it seeps
I hear the sounds
From below
So down stairs I do go
Flip on the lights
Flip that switch
And watch
As all things stored
Are    f        l        o       a       t        I        n       g by

I’m soon joined
By a concerned pair
Of eyes
No purring
As he meows
As his bathroom dr If ts slowly by

I put on my coat
And head on out
To the car I will go
But first
Keep f       
         G at my feet

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


A testament to

The Tie or bind
Two as one
Jumping to-
The portamento mark eclipse
All the jagged stops and starts

In homophony—
Impossible to play apart

Most precious slur
Curving arc
Legato lives;
Staccatissimo falls apart  
Pennillions familiar song
Uniquely departing form
In Dulci Jubilo;
Perhaps the intonation here,
Was not clear as clear can be,
In such a method
Intonation appeared
In lyric’s unrehearsed symphony
The Coda
The song of the swan
Graceful yet—
Malinconia’s Sturm und Drang
Frosts wings unflown,

Sul Ponticello (On the Bridge)
Strigendo’s squeezing every inch
Durchkomponiert indeed

For all the complexity
For each the Stimmung tuned
It is bound to be
 Symphoneta ceases polyphonic mastery

In Finale, yet again
I must explain, oft skated
 Frozen ice. (Attaco subito)
Cracks downy sides
Unfurling feathered flight
As disparity drowns,
In Sul Tasto’s warming glove
And we then Know:

“Sumer is Icumen In”

Dream of Valkyrie

If a Valkyrie would come for me,
I’d be in the trance of one million voices,
Wondering what I had done
To anoint this soul
Nonesuch less
The moniker of hero

Drifted mix
Amassing touch
Fortifying all inside
The frigid, frozen
Shameful scowl
Within the agony
Within the pain
Exists, still
A semblance of principle

Au revoir
As pillow catches head
The fall is not as bad this night

A Glossary of...

A glossary of introspection requests my attention—
In tongues
I left the cipher to
Buried deep
In dreams of youthful

Words form walls
Phrases, Jails
Commas splice
Away the night
Forming a path
An escape
From this


Fractured, little lamb
Splint still slipping
Yet all vocality has been shut down

Having watched your child
Harvested in such a manner
And being powerless to render any semblance of support
Sheepish remark

And so, grazing the fields
ne'er felt the same
As only eyes could affix
to barbs and those
crabapple bearing trees
amidst the alternating greenish hues beneath

And the farmers dog, black and white stubby tailed creature that it is, prances the prairie in tormenting tease as the ferry noise infiltrates the serenity the sheep here keep

All was fine
All was the way it always had been
Ignorance, the pond-elixir to the damnably stupid

All was even
As the odds ever were
Those businessmen
polishing their gold canes and shiny wheels a riding

Somewhere in that ballast
Understanding came to me
where I learned the value of a friend
A child
A mate
Where I learned was not meant for mutilation
yet always it comes to that, always right?

Knowledge damaged everything
And so,
When the yard is empty
and the cows have all been fed
I shall slink past the owl--
and into the barbs I shall go--
Entangled till
All segments of intelligence
will have been stifled too

It's tuesday once again and my friend Brian Miller is tending the bar over at D'Verse for tonight's edition of Open Link Night.  Stop on by, have a few pints of verse and offer one of your own( look at it like it's a tip).

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Ravaging of the Caravan

I awoke to a single calm
I bled fast until the ring was gone
Traffic patterns
Of triumvirate’s wail
In pastel, my inner river floods—
To harmonize the many hours spent,
Amidst enchantment’s bell

Ravenously bleeds,
Lost in the moments, in the while spent,
When I left to relieve the most basic of needs,
Left to curtail, the spurring ache
That continuously writhes in me

As I followed the steps I’d made
Back to the coven of my peers
Brushing back the pine that sways
Unlocked the key, and swiftly in slow-motion,
The gates closed behind me—
Opening a passageway,
To some demonized reality