THE WOUND THAT SHINES

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S T A R E S

Where is the wound that shines?

Well Over 50 years on

Over this  his day, on?

My Back  way against all this memorial day shite  here

I’ll intentionally send me  to a ill-shielded shy there,

Back at  again to that  day where

I’m Far  too young  to fathom,

Or even  notice  yr. crevasse,

Yr  Grande Malaise,

Yr. countdown…Yr. Pass.

It makes me madly think now

It takes  the saddest thing    to tell now..

Stuck in a stack of old NewYorkers

There’s this raw cartoon drawing;

A mere boy  drawn in black & white

Stands on a step of his own basement,  stares,

He did look down on his own  livid  apocalypse,

His lips, and the caption say

“It’s  A.O.K.”

.

Here is the wound that shines

Tonight, a glint off yr. cracked onyx ring.

I lift it  in my open fist to my lips.

.

.

L  O  O  K

.

Hope  we’re having  a heaven  so

I’ll look all about  &

Daddy can call out, (& it won’t hurt, no)

He’ll look just like he just got home from work:

“There’s my inquisitive young man,” he’d shout.

We’d have it out;

My young man’s mystery,

His young man’s misery.

We’d upheave it out. One Heavy inquiry would unfold

If he mightn’t have killed himself  he might have taught me:

“You gotta take the bite of bitter with the cold”

.

My Mother could steady things when she told me

When I was ready she told me:

“I know, I know,

With time…

We’ll  heal.

He  was  not  well.

They say  that You/

Have his look.

You  know.

You know

I say  ‘You’ll/

Try having my smile’”.

Summer
2019

Failed Encounter
2019

Movement
2018

Retratos
2017

Disappearance
2016

P A L P A B L E

 

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

 

 

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

Solid Things

 

 

 

 

There’s this secret I’ve kept so discreet

From lovers, & brothers, & mothers.

I’ve mis managed to become  so mum

It was only clearer to me

After  self therapy

The  other day,  or another.

.

From  this  encompassing  dream,

I   finally  wanted

All the  solid things  I was sold  to get,

When it’s important  to want one.

.

I   Get

Silk  batik ties, Italian silk shirts,

Mostly-silk  jackets,

Dry cleaned,  & all in the closet.

.

I  Wait For And Get

Too new Peter & P.J., Gabriel and Harvey,

Unheard of, they’re still in their jacket.

Too new Laurie Anderson, Richard Thompson,

Unheard of, they’re still in their jacket.

.

I  Waited  For  &  Get a

Big  Bio book   of Elliott Smith,

and the case is still closed

.

I   Get

New  Yorker’s

Drawings  &  Captions

All of them  (All these years)

Data   on   disc

unplayed  &  unsmiled  to. (sadly)

I   Got

New  Yorker’s

Drawings  & Captions

The Board Game…

.

..

Why  I  With-hold

All  that  pleasure,

I haven’t a clue.

It’s half-like  holding  love

At arm’s length,

& watching it  do

.

 

 

 

Everything is nothing with a twist. (Kurt Vonnegut, in Slaughterhouse Five)

 

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.

BLOOD SHADOWS OILS FOR LATER

 

In the upper peninsula of Michigan
blustery State Road 2 you must go.
It’s quite common to drive over
deep blood in snow/ dead buck or  doe./
Just as felines must fall & fill gutters
South of there, all over./
deep blood in the snow./
With the people of upper Michigan
it’s quite common  they’ll drag & drape over
& tie up their meat
off the back of their battered trucks
and freight it home to their freezers
for later./

Here in Southwest Florida
on the way to work
it’s uncommon…
(I called out  “Oh My God!”)
it’s uncommon to drive over…
(I killed  an alligator)
I was light on sleep and late for work/
All in a dream’s dread,  in my headlights,
I called out  “Oh my God!”

Still, Later, When I left working, dark and yet dawning
(I had  left It for the taking.  &  It was gone.)
Still were spilled  shadows. most  it was gone.

Lost. home, what would save me?
milk cream & alcohol
Nor Down on my knees
under some Art on a wall;
Oils had spilled on an
empty space clean/
I know this all is from All.
(I called in “oh my god”)

.
stains for a dream

.

.

.

.

.

(from 3 yrs ago, true story)

SOME BRUSHES WITH FAME

 

 

 

Spaulding Gray,   RIP

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coxoEhQmjzY

Met, when he approached me, introduced himself and invited me to join him onstage for a performance, seriously

.

Barry Sobel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sx1aRIj9LdQ

met in an odd situation, introduced him to my brother

.

Richard Thompson

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9qHEoCfzjw&feature=digest

met  twice for a backstage meet & greet

a hero

.

.

now, it’s yr turn. Do Tell

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.

still full in caftans

You need to know

You needn’t load these new cameras

It’s less necessary  this new era

I imagine now  new images

ejaculate pointblank to blank pages

Get-sets galore fill gallery folders

I heard Gatling gun wordings

for fun  function as captions

I read that the wind full in caftans

Help to heft up our boulders

.

still tho’