Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Apple, Land, Mountain, poem, River, verse
January 27, 2010
I walked into a small room with one chair facing two chairs
The offered me tea and I accepted a glass of water instead
They looked me straight in the eye
They told me that I did not need the river
I looked at the river
I did not speak
I walked out onto a small porch with a bench and a large window
They offered me sandwiches and I accepted an apple instead
They looked me straight in the eye
They told me that I did not need the mountain
I looked at the mountain
I did not speak
I walked onto a small roof with a step stool and a railing
They offered me metal and I accepted ash instead
They looked me straight in the eye
They told me that I did not need the land
I looked at the land
I did not speak
I walked for many suns and moons and always the same invitations
I saw many rooms, porches and roofs
I drank the water, ate the apple and held the ash
I looked them in the eye
I told them that I did not need the river
I told them that I did not need the mountain
I told them that I did not need the land
I stopped in my steps and watched the sun and the moon
I did not need them
But I liked them
As they were
January 24, 2010
A film of an inflatable dancing promotional cylindrical man and a distracted bored teenager dressed up as the statue of liberty.
A recording of random blasts of horns and splashes as tires hit cold water potholes and then the blare of a different set of horns.
A painting of movie theatre that sells brand new shoes and shirts and skirts and suits for less than ten dollars burning to the ground.
A dance around parking lots with carts and cars and friends and families who treat the road like a toe path and then rest for while.
A well cooked meal that tastes like twelve generations of ideas have been basted on this piece of earth and then it is in your mouth.
A pile of people waits in a bundle next to an abandoned house next to a soul food store and restaurant next to each other in the front seat.
Moving in the opposite direction the same scene, sound, sensation, smell and serenity prevails where there is no meaning.
January 15, 2010
I’m there, I sit back, I tilt, I slide down, and fall on my back
That’s all right with me.
Up at angles, at twists, at turns, at jagged spiky points
All right above me.
This is the place, this is it, this is the spot to be on my back.
I’m all there with you.
Down at bends, and burning pains, spinning visions, eyes fogged.
It doesn’t matter with you.
There is the tree. Look up at the tree. It’s coming down.
It’s coming down.
Little pale pieces, shy away from me as I breathe.
It’s coming down.
Coming down.
You’re down the path ahead of me, right there in front of me.
Right there waiting.
Distorted by branches and by the wind, your back is facing me.
Waiting there for me.
Waiting. There.
January 13, 2010
Let it be known.
Waiting for the car to pass and it was hours at least let me tell you.
Now they even have stores like that just around the corner.
Occasions like these warrant pauses and considerations.
Let it be known: the cave in begins with you.
Watching for the boss around the corner doing nothing again.
Now they even put their friends in a box up on the shelf.
Times like these make for laziness and procrastinations.
Let it be known: the wash out begins with you.
Pacing the halls of a store with waiting room on every aisle.
Now they even pile the crates in corners behind the open door.
Names like these only confuse and dilute postulations.
Let it be known: the back up begins with you.
Building the set of appliance make shift upright stands tall.
Now they even lay themselves down in a tight ball of smoke.
Places like these help the rest of us face the amputations.
Let it be known: the break down begins with you.
Let it be known.
January 12, 2010
Same thing happened to him that happened to her.
He had all the experience and she the will.
He walks away wanting peace.
She wants revenge.
Ten years later and she is alive and he is dead.
He died fairly unknown and she leads the town.
He did all he could do, maybe more.
She fights on.
He had seen it day after day and enough was enough.
She had seen it only once and then she began.
On the edge everyday on the edge once.
She can do it.
He is gone, now on to her and what she does.
A case made for both sides.
You do to me; I would have done to you.
Now I can do to you before you do to me.
And you still can do it to me.
Just like you did before.
She wants revenge.
She fights on.
She can do it.
January 11, 2010
Turn around and you won’t see what you’re supposed to see.
Stand still and you’ll see whatever you want to see.
Who will pay, who can pay, who wants to pay, why pay?
We can get it here as the exchanges continue behind the door.
Everyone at the party knows what they want behind that door.
Will it open, who will open, when will it open, is it locked?
They accepted the offer and in the end felt like they had won.
They walked away knowing that they had lied and they had won.
I saw them, you saw them, they saw them and nobody won.
January 6, 2010
So many choices that it comes down to these
All the options presented to me, the best available and I, oh yes I get to make the choice
So many choices that it comes down to these
All the possibilities lying before me, what cost, what style, what quality, what to do.
So many choices that it comes down to these
All the money and profits and trades and mergers and takeovers and sales and fees
So many choices that it comes down to these
All the best is at the bottom of the barrel where the runoff and kiss off meets to mate
So many choices that it comes down to these
All I really can do is choose to take what you have or choose not to.
January 4, 2010
Papa is so bazaar
The way he prances
All around
Mama gets embarrassed
By the leaves upon
The ground
Papa is so passé
The way he dresses
On the street
Mama gets debased
By the company
She keeps
Papa is carefree
The way he collapses
In the bed
Mama is exhausted
By the voices
In her head
Papa does not wake
As he returns to
His dreams
Mama is suspended
In a state of
Loneliness
The Best Years of Our Lives 