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

September 19, 2015

The Infinite Up Against The Finite, Up Again

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 4:49 pm

After a rain

I have to stand straight

As my back pain

Will let me  and  wait

To take note.

Take it all in,  Breath first.

“Skin second,”  He wrote,

Then Worked to recall.  All by breakfast.

June 3, 2015

What are you reading Wednesday (A Game better than solitaire?)– Jim Harrison’s “The Big Seven”

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What Are You Reading Wednesdays can be a game better than Solitaire.To participate, open your current read to page 34 and answer the three questions listed below. If you have a blog, feel free to leave a link down in the comments so that others can visit and see your post. If you don’t, just leave a note with your answers.

The Questions are:
1. What’s the name of your current read?

2. Go to page 34 in your book or 34% in your eBook and share at least one complete sentence.

3. Would you like to live in the world that exists within your book? Why or why not?

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My Answers this week are:

1. “The Big Seven”  by Jim Harrison

2.”He reflected that in literature our lives were rivers which seemed inappropriate to him. Rivers were unstoppable, of great power. We were primarily creeks or rivulets that flowed into rivers. You could hope your life to be a smooth, clear, strong creek. You could make it so with care. Or you could muddy it up with carelessness. Sunderson had to put himself in the latter category but then nothing was stopping a change.”

3.A careless old man in the woods, just this side of change? Um, OK

May 9, 2015

J U S T

I.     Lost

.

For now, awhile, I won’t let you pull me from the wreckage

But, how  you hold my hand, for both of us

Until the jaws of life  arrives/

Tho’ I’m not at a lost of words, I’m lost

In thought, “I’m lost”, I thought,

“And hiding from the hidden costs.”

.
 II.  Birdsong
.

I’ll dare to speak of sparrows

in shrapnel filled WW I battlefield winds,

in sharp scarlet dawns

they’ll sing to find their kind

if they’ve  lived,

a song will find its way back,

between the  blood & budding daybreak

.
   III.    J U S T
.

it could be/ a branch of a tree

perched at a high hill

would have a new bud  just

breaking through/ it would be just for you

and in time  a blossom. You’d just

lift yr arm up/ and pull it down/ just in time

to drink it through

with yr deepest stealing breath.///

.Image

May 2, 2015

FIREDANCE

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 6:18 am

“A man can bare himself before others only out of a particular kind of love. A love which acknowledges, as it were,that we are all wicked children”— Ludwig  Wittgenstein

Savagely,

I can dance around a fire.

If the spirits take notice,

If they’re drawn by this sight,

As  we   might  be

lured by the light

of dead stars, already,

If the spirits take notice of

Me at the blaze

My body and face,

(Not at all faking

What I choose  to let loose)

Shiny, and shaking  away my disease,

Let said spirits kindly

sign off on release.

.

.

.

(FROM 2012)

April 22, 2015

“LIGHT INEFFABLE”

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the vast ocean of the “light ineffable,”

from Poe’s “Eleonora”

.

.

LIKE  LIGHTENING

.

pray, tell

There’s but one pretty way to spell out

my long sentence.

If random luck holds out   perhaps

The power, like lightening  stabs

down my stance,

I’ll light up  Dark dancing static

X Rayed,  & loony like on a cartoon.

Man, I’ll be lit up like a mantle

in a lantern soon.

Windfall clarity

should  scare me then.

If I should flinch when I  have,  by chance

One unscrambled avalanche,

Doled out sure/steady

As an hour old Soulful  pillow  rain

It  means

I’ll miss  all this  when

The  words  come,

Spilling these spaces.&

.

I’m  pervious

I ain’t nervous of naked undersurfaces

April 13, 2015

C R E S C E N T

My ache in my neck

Disables him some

His taking this strange stretch

To check out this chart, um,

On one wall, like  Art,

To notice how tonight’s moon might

Look w/its own share of sunlight.

For  my/

Ache in my neck/ Sorry/

I’m hostage to/

Necessity.

March 17, 2015

Try Another Dawn, Against Green Leather, On

I take my ten tablets.

Wash  ’em w/ Irish.

It’s my time

for medicine,

& no time for nonsense.

I’m ready I’ll try to pull hard

for a merciful god.

Finally I’ll try my hand

To move a pen

To move my words

To move me.

.

.

.

.                                  (from 2009, Slainte.)

March 12, 2015

STILL, THERE WAS THAT LIGHT

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:41 am

She won’t remember when

Without a word we wandered

Dark  collegetown  neighborhoods.

Where were the dogs & cops?  I wondered.

We were thrilled for the night  still.

Still,  there were all the satellites.

And very still, there was that light

In a candlelit  picture  window.

It  gave  a silhouette, a shadow   readying  a bed.

Buffing up a sheet,  she showed us,

Me and my sister Janny,

Her  heartstopping   Beauty;

A silent ballet shadow show  that

We acknowledged

Her  walkstopping   ethereal naked lines,

Then  continued on, still wordless

Then  getting stiller yet.

.

.

.

.                              (happy birthday, janice)

January 29, 2015

From “One Hundred poems From The Japanese”

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 9:41 am

I have always known

That at last I would

Take this Road, but yesterday

I did not know that it would be today

.

NARIHIRA

Tsui ni yuko

Michi to wa kanete

Kikishi kado

Kino kyo to wa

Omowazarishi wa

January 26, 2015

A NEW POET (by Linda Pastan

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:42 am

A New Poet

Linda Pastan

Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
out in the woods. You don’t see

its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way

its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page. In fact
the very page smells of spilled

red wine and the mustiness of the sea
on a foggy day – the odor of truth
and of lying.

And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only

in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.

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