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

April 11, 2015

P A L P A B L E

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 7:39 am

 

Neruda’s ” impalpable ash”

Chants away/

In the fray of my own tiny ruins.

.

If I touch/ near the fire/

Impalpable ash..”

Chimes away/

And supports the clearing away  all

Insubstantial,

Makes way to take less blinding steps away

From  cave  to  climax

I’ve come to have left out

Crucial  rescue  tools

From my matutinal

Lost-combination locked bag of tricks.

In touch  information

Out

 

 

April 17, 2014

GETHEMANE

There ought better be a beacon
on a pacific coast cliff could be
where hope’s light works with a sea horn
where a night light works with a warning
forces & forges the blackest fog & forests

There can be a candle
in a window with enough heat
to fire the hearth
to light one lone solitary stone room
.
(from 2010)
.
.
.
.
.
.”Writing is nothing more than a guided dream” -Jorge Luis Borges

March 3, 2014

“A LITTLE SHY AND A LITTLE RUM”

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 1:15 pm

 

“THERE ARE SUCH A LOT OF THINGS THAT HAVE NO PLACE IN SUMMER AND AUTUMN AND SPRING. EVERYTHING THAT’S A LITTLE SHY AND A LITTLE RUM. SOME KINDS OF NIGHT ANIMALS AND PEOPLE THAT DON’T FIT IN WITH OTHERS AND THAT NOBODY REALLY BELIEVES IN. THEY KEEP OUT OF THE WAY ALL THE YEAR. AND THEN WHEN EVERYTHING’S QUIET AND WHITE AND THE NIGHTS ARE LONG AND MOST PEOPLE ARE ASLEEP
— THEN THEY APPEAR.”

– TOVE JANSSON, MOOMINLAND MIDWINTER

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

the night fills book shelves

of newselves

and ghosts ancient that go silent

after you dare to glare it down.

the night fills full boxes

of hoaxes

all honest, bold-faced hazy facades

and full frontal epiphanies

.

.

.Image        White Night Edvard Munch – 1901

 

November 10, 2012

Another Throwaway Film Review

Filed under: fragments, prose — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 10:36 am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

what if

the differences

“menacing”  moonglare shadows;

stirred by high winds,

branches & loud leaves,

turn maniacal, turn  magical.

What if the differences  they made on

some moods some might have

early after just waking,

What if the difference they made was

benefitting  and lightened

awakening moods

like “I walked With A Zombie”  does.

 

 

October 9, 2012

Setting The Table

Aw heck,  on a lark,

I likely heard a   “Hark,

Hear all this  beck and call”.

There, I see it had hailed from  icy altitudes.

So, when I wised up some, and tried to listen,

At this end, I waited, and while I waited, I understood.

It wasn’t  the explanation,

It was the going  on & on deal,

Passing time,

It was  setting the table,  not the meal.

August 3, 2012

COMMENNUIQUE’

 

 

While you come out and say

You might await some communique’

I might just wait some

To formulate  some take on

Raw data  streaming onto the tarmac

(Surreally so As filmstrip will go spill  off a reel)

This all filling files somewhere

There must  have been plenty

Taking place.

.

Night, when there might have been plenty

Taking place

I escaped unscathed, tho’ scattered

It remains to be seen & heard

If I would make  it matter

It can be  there may be  plenty

Taking place.

December 26, 2011

COUP DREAM

in a dance we did

yr thinner, inner landscape was inscribed, was

vapid.  insi Pitity.

me, I was a hundred mindfields away,

defragging yr administration, declassifying yr files,

& imitating yr walk.

stepping up some

December 2, 2011

Like Consequences, Early.

As rising tides of daylight’s ocean

Slice wide  through the blinds & the shrubs behind the blinds,

The sun,

Regretfilled notions

Upset upon me   1  by  1

Apparitions

July 26, 2011

red sweater

There’s  this  Delores

At a fire, down the dunes

I can see this far

from up here

They like talking about her

By her name, while she’s there

Then, when she decides

To add another take to the fire

Her sound is sure

Though  her hair  is in her eyes

And on her red sweater

She’ not yet pure enough

to sense

I long for her  here

Forty  years  on

June 4, 2011

lilt

Filed under: poetry, prose — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:08 am

Sweeter than the precious tiny

Melodic Asian lilt,

That  child-waitress,

Specific  question  still

Asked periodically at our table,

(she has

 cool bangs & hornrimmed glasses)

&   “Hot tea?”

She surely should be in school

But she’s all the family business has

To talk to the customers

In their native language.

“Hot  tea?”  Forever memorable.

Sweeter than that

When you  thankfully  then

Lean closer again

In yr. achingly fetching

Nightgown

(yr. bangs  cooler)

I watch yr. lips  & hear

“Tea,  Dear?”

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