Friday, November 14, 2014

For Isabel tonight

there you are
in the moments
we refuse to avoid
there you are
at the start of
the foment, the noise
explaining to me
the need for a roar
there you are
when I call blindly
from a cell in my heart
there you are
in the darkness
there you are at the start
creep up on me
I don’t mind
we had that kind
of friendship
the ghosts still in transit
are jealous of us
there you are
in the night of
my simmering question
no answers you say
only direction
there you are
when I flounder
in boots still too tight
through dark underbrush
there you are in the light

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Sir Shadow

Sir shadow, you drunk
Sir Shadow, you mean
and crazy man
Sir Shadow, you hopeless shoe lacer
you angry defacer
Sir Shadow of mine
you black valentine
swing from the wing with a ghosty divine
Sir Shadow, you hopeless
reminder of loss
comic trickster of heaven
Byzantium’s loss is
a place where nothing of import
gives into dull hymns
or nudged the sweet need of sorts
Sir Shadow, it’s now
in the cinnamon dark

when I drink to the owl
to the falcon, the lark
and the music still hovers
like a family of sorts
Sir Shadow, the sum of 
my disparate parts
gets childy and needy and
begs for the stars
the  way to lace upward
the wayfaring boot
send me on to the place
and dig me my root

Sunday, October 26, 2014

overkill underkill
the thrill undeserved
sanctified realized
undersized is still
toothless and fruitless
a warning a nod
lazy disarming
weighty and flighty
wined by the storm
alone or in measures
of humans unarmed
take a bullet
a moment
a pick of the lot
shoot the wrong from the right
or get rid of the lot
sit by me and inquire or not
I’m pleased with the sound of your voice
dance with me or rather
leave a moment quieter
in a dark corner
where we shall foment
overkill underkill
the latter or former
it matters never the order
sound is the truth of
any great moment
the song, the poem, the drunkards pretend
who wins the lottery
which one has the scent
God is awesome
repent and repent.

Friday, October 17, 2014


monarchial feast
nectar as sweet as freedom
reign forevermore

Friday, September 26, 2014

teach me he says
but he doesn’t say what
you are great he says
but he doesn’t say why
stop killing he says
but he doesn’t say that
read my story he says
I’m sorry for hate
make me the hero
make me see new
tricks that I jump through
teach me he says
when what he means
is love me this instant
you are brilliant he says
what he means is “light me”
he is burrowing now
when he should be spiraling
I watch from the sidelines
his eager following
I paw the earth
like a stallion unknowing
what will become of
this jockeying friendship
him or me discovers foreboding
marauding in kinship
boots on the ground
or weak backyard sunsets
if you kill or be killed
you will never rest
if you cleave to the common
you’ll have missed the arabesque
dismissed the bowman
danced in a hall all alone
loved if you will
by nothing but song