Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

December 11, 2010

On Turning To Day’s End Bright stars

Upon getting home I can hold on/ and sit in the still of a cold car/

and listen to the cloud of many nothings in choir loud and/

let the nightwork shuck off like dead snakeskin/

Stars bring  bright/tho’ moments my car might/ save me from some/

although my neck already achingly turns/

towards them before I can/

straighten up/ turning out/ outside/

onto my driveway

December 10, 2010

Winter Awareness Verse

                 

                                     I

                    ONE WINTER ADDITION

teachers to small children

the world over

pastors to parish

they all will tell the pretty truth

(aside the pretty lies, “pretty lies”)

that  crystalline  snowflakes

are unique.   unique.

and maybe later in both

secular schoolrooms

and sunday school classes

(and in all their varieties the world over)

small children might make snowflakes for themselves

they’ll fold lacy paper exactly in half

 with a good crease

and taking their round-ended scissors

they’ll cut their very own unique cuts

so that when everyone unfolds their lacy paper

and lifts it above their heads

everyone can laugh at their uniquenesses

.

but one thing that ministers & mentors

rabbis & nuns will fail to add

is that those one-of-a-kind snowflakes

are all

alone

in their descent

on icy black currents

all their night fall

.

                                 II

               STILL,  NOT STILL         

It’s the coldest morning this year

And the Farmer’s Almanac says  this year

There’s gonna be a winter of  ’em

Me,  I won’t mind

I like how loud the  still  is

.

forty years ago a brother from Chicago

called the cold wind

“the hawk”

I wonder if it’s still true

I wonder if  “that muthafuckin Hawk”

is still cursed & bundled against

in the only city cited for its big blow.

.

          

  III

When island settings lose their place

                                           in  imaginings,

When our mornings sun  there

warming skin,  bare,  but for spot-traces of surf,

Or all shade floral   sanctuaries,

perfect for setting your eyes on

god’s perfect line,  a horizon,

When all won’t free you,

Won’t call you from all this  freezing

Point  of  view,

This illusionary season,

What ttthen?

December 1, 2010

E N R A P T

So nervously casual unwrapped/enrapt

So near a naked half turn onto eye you

We lay fastened on grand pianos

Braying asses assuredly elegant

                               in perfecting predawn light

.

A quiet gust came up

Only the smallest leaves take swirl

On paths  in moon

.

Aligning our times

We  counted  skies

We  chimed  in

         “ONE”