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Posts Tagged ‘MyPoetry’
hospice
I watch the rise and fall of her chest
the pulse in her neck to see when I should cry and push the button.
When we’ll turn off the hum of the oxygen
When we’ll leave this room too cold and too hot get up [...]
Return To Florida
You have a smile like sunshine bright and warm and everyday even through hell of machines and radiation and chemicals which made your skin ache and muscles turn to pumice.
And I’ll miss it your smile like I’d miss the sun or air and breathing or the moment of waking where we move from sleepland to [...]
Return
It’s cold back here in Seattle. Back from the Florida heat and parking garages.
It’s a different cold than the hospital we inhabited. You can smell smoke from the chimnys and fireplaces, grass wet with rain and too long from a week’s neglect.
We returned to mail [...]
Falling
She’d sing Teddy Bear’s Picnic to me during the 2 am wakings pretending to fall out of my bed so I wouldn’t have to be alone in the second story yellow room with the window I would fall out of every night in my dreams.
I’d fall to hit the floor more stable than cold [...]
Future Lost In Their Labyrinths
One cannot hold onto old winters the snow has already fallen the grass already turned to a faded brown the leaves a season before had begun to fall over our shod feet and dark green sweaters which covered our hidden heart the rain had already come down in puddles outside our windows and doors as [...]
Nightflares
Night flares again The veins in my hands warrant nails driven though. Even Christ was human and did he suffer with chaotic thoughts like mine? Would he have smoke his father’s cigarettes and stuffed his stomach full of bile, Would [...]
In Her Picture
In her picture these years gone from swimming pools and houses dark
I see the new millennium and the pass of time as beauty ripens as intellect and eyes darken with the sights of the world and French lovers left to tend the countryside.
Together our footsteps collided and mingled with the brokenglass [...]
L’Age D’Etoiles
L’age d’etoiles est maintnaint she will say sitting crosslegged back against the wall and pressed to flannel summer sun on her cheeks through Florida December days coffesteam misty dreams spin foreheads height swimming in bluemorn wakings foresttrees and a geko
You’ll remember that geko during the summer days of Seattle rain, and teary [...]
Greenleaf
Greenleaf Arkansas night upstairs porches facing windy road highway scenic drive and lightningbug starksy
Thursday morning Arkansas coffee steams weak though cigarette smoke and misty shower mirrorfog
There’s a certain bliss at morning countryside quiet where all you can hear are the bugs and tractors and yellow flowers growing
There’s a wooden [...]
Writing my history
I’m up late, writing my history but through it all, I’ve lived it all before, in another time, in memory of faces and places spoken of in long drunken tirades on Florida porches with a bottle of rum in hand two months after your demise.
But then there it comes in [...]
Blood Runs Coffee and Oil
There are those you meet on summer days wearing shorts and carrying books who will take you into their chambers window thrown wide and spilling frost into Florida sun to talk and breathe deep the life of end-of-century
And those who wear the tatters of words borrowed with smile from those we love [...]
Insides of Our Skulls
It’s so often our eyes cloud with the insides of our skulls Wane quickly and fog like the cream in our coffee, Sunday morning, awake with the sun now past noon.
Its so often our eyes cannot see the sile or wrinkled brow of the old man, shoeless in the shadows, a cat by [...]
Am I Lost Yet?
Have the seas of streets run together to form one memory of a town I left years ago? Have the memories of gravestones covered in weeds filled my eyes with tears at their sight? Do the sight of roses wilted and dying turn my head even now?
I cannot see [...]
Lament for Old Rye
I’ve seen the bottom of a liquor bottle too many times in the cities of the world and the cobblestone streets of memory nights with music playing from the prosceniums of eyes and cities centuries old and still celebrating its youth
Lives in Small Towns, Foreign
It’s on days like these that you can hear the river flow that forgotten heartbeat rolling sound
When the breeze is just cold enough to remind you that seasons change and spring is here, that breath on your neck may not be wind.
When you can see in color again not just [...]
New World Rememberances
And during the August days of bright Seattle I’ll find pictures of you in an old notebook that’s seen the world through broken bindings and bus rides and the dirt from European cities seen years before I first met you again.
Coldsheet Morning
The hand will stutter like a lying friend as the match is lit and brought under eyes
The back will arch as you sit still and quiet – breathing and shaking while the world passes
Necks will turn and mouths will open to utter words muffled in din of lamplight and glow [...]
Idaho
Around the curtain printed in teal and maroon woodblock flowers I see the familiar hue of sunlight waking softly unlike the sonorous echo of telephone bells softly like the breathing of a woman next to you three miles high in Idaho where years ago none were thought to live potatoes growing silently with no [...]
Angels Bear With Me
Angels Bear With Me
Angels Bear With Me is how I preface every syllable in my head before I speak – or decide not to, and stare straight ahead at the road unfolding in front of me, or the countryside out the window and reflected in rear-view mirrors
Angels bear with me is the prayer I say [...]
Painting, August, 1997
Behind some, like ghosts, you can see the wings of angels fading lightly into the sunlight color they leave behind them
And they will bite their nails to not speak, to keep inside them all that they have seen and loved and lost;
they will not speak, but will look [...]
Mahogany and Black
Yes I’ll turn the page for you Your fingers move too fast to grab hold of things material Paper is rough and your skin will burn on it, the air cold burning on your face Your nails are long from too long loving me and nothing else But I could hear in your voice that [...]
Not Kansas
Rage, rage against the lights behind my eyes which come after no and no and now and the ashes remain too long for the wind is dead The wind is dead and the sun has turned to coal and blue like an etching by Kollowitz with sunken eyes and hands taut strung like scarecrows [...]
One cannot hold onto old winters
One cannot hold onto old winters the snow has already fallen the grass already turned to a faded brown the leaves a season before had begun to fall over our shod feet and dark green sweaters which covered our hidden heart the rain had already come down in puddles outside our windows and doors as [...]
The Women
A sonnet written after Marilyn Hacker
With whispered hands entwined they live a life behind closed doors shut soft and locks half turned; no sons to laugh or born, no rings to mourn the pass of time or dream. The girls just laugh
at sighs and eyes turned down. [...]