Wednesday, December 28, 2011

empty (2011)


"Imagine putting a bowling ball in the center of a city and then scattering ten peas
around the rest of the city and you have some idea how empty an atom really is."
From Atoms to Quarks, James F. Trefil

there then at the deepest center of each of us
we are that thing that is essentially empty

proton neutron electron all rattling around
inside each cell of us like a prayer for others

and we become attracted to this emptiness
that is all that matters at the core of everything

and the radiation of you and your emptiness
lights every particle of me in orbit and electric

the nucleus of me sits by the millions in you
central and constant as the belief in split atoms

liar (the only true you ever knew) (2011)

liar (the only true you ever knew)

“Mendacity is a system that we live in.”
―Brick in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Tennessee Williams

i am a liar
this is a lie

i am all mask
and misdirection

but only as a present
for you

and you
and you
and you and you

‘tis the season?
then, yes, more lies

deeper and deeper lies
in red foil and green bows

yet there is one thing true
and more complicated

i cannot tell you when it began
when truth turned to lie

and merged as one

when my heart had become
only yours and always yours

and i had to lie to prove
how deep you are buried there

like a flag waving above the spot
of the only true you ever knew

i am a liar
this is a lie

feel my hand reaching out?
maybe this is all i should have offered

Daily Kos: Kurt Vonnegut Reborn (Well, Maybe)

Daily Kos: Kurt Vonnegut Reborn (Well, Maybe)

Thursday, October 20, 2011

NEW POEM: these things

these things

i stand on the other side of this wall
i built between us like a tomb

brick by brick unconsciously mortaring you
and the possibility of you over there

and remain with these things
i can no longer say or share

as if they do not exist in my palms
itching to hold these things against your skin

i have reduced myself to masonry
that walls off these things that matter most

and i grow terrified of walls with no exits
silently mocking me for my carelessness

i have friends who wear cellophane
like Halloween masks

and there is nothing more frightening
than these things transparent

telling me with their faces every time
i conjure clear catastrophe

& if you could
if you would. . .

we meet in the first days of fall
winds rising & the chill of autumn

engulfing us like memories & hope
until our skin is cooled around our longing

& then you slip your hand into mine
cold fingers intertwined & clutching

until you pull against our walking
& at the pause your cold nose & lips

reach up to mine & press you against me

“it’s been so long since i’ve kissed you”

& these things awaken the joy of this possibility

Friday, September 23, 2011

New poem: seed of happiness and peace

seed of happiness and peace

“’I think. . .that I would rather recollect a life mis-spent on fragile things than spent avoiding moral debt.’. . .There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.”
Neil Gaiman, Introduction, fragile things

this seed of happiness and peace
between us or that could be

must not be denied forgotten or tossed aside
hidden again and again

by the desert moments around us
where we forget to be

i have gathered all of these objects
wooden and painted

and i am sanding away at the veneer
to the bare grain

to polish these things of us together
shiny as peace

and there in was my error:

i failed to see your fragility
mirrored like mine and ours
there in your eyes always before me
masked by your bravado and smile

and i was always a man trying
to weave lace out of emeralds
his hands and mind frantic and closed
like a fist around your heart and throat

this seed of happiness and peace cannot grow
beneath this boot heel planted in the ground

let’s walk away together hand in hand and humming
with faith that this seed will rise green and blooming



The Leftovers - By Tom Perrotta - Book Review -

The Leftovers - By Tom Perrotta - Book Review -

The Leftovers, Tom Perrotta