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

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”

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LIKE  LIGHTENING

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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.&

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I’m  pervious

I ain’t nervous of naked undersurfaces

March 23, 2015

FILLS

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 4:02 am

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

February 11, 2015

SHUNNING CLASSICAL INVESTIGATION

It’s meant to be  a pair of documents,

Y’see, But I signed both.

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Caught, I could  share   the clench

He put on that  pair of documents.

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Bright lights washed this whiteish room.

The solemness thing   a candle brings,

Though I searched,  all the shadows had no shade in this room.

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We digressed some away from

the heart of the matter

When he stressed  my stories were

fog & mirror

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I’m sure I concurred  that if

Scenes and factors shift

From tellings to retellings,

It seems the fact is  seems shifty.

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“But plainly, a  planned  lie,

A tall Alibi, that had ironclad  unchanging,

Mimicry! is one word for word bed story,

Read to children.

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Isn’t that one good bet

That wins & sets the liar free”

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I think he let it sink in, and then set.

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“And you expect me to reject

Classic casebook investigation technique

& instead of  doubting inconsistency,

Instead ..One consistent story

Is a tell tale “good bet”

for Guilty?  And yet,

changing ones tune again & again  is uniquely

Honest?   it’s best to revise to clarify..

As one more clearly

recalls  new  old  details?

Just as pieces of night dreams

Resurface  into..Really??!”

.

“Um, yes.”

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

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NARIHIRA

Tsui ni yuko

Michi to wa kanete

Kikishi kado

Kino kyo to wa

Omowazarishi wa

January 13, 2015

F A I L U R E

A peripheral-visionary

Somehow stepped in cow poop.

Then  a man-on-a-missionary

Also Failed to see all  his true path

Also Failed to seek wholey  his newest  breath

Tho’ he hovers over roses,

Forever forgetting  lettting  out  as tho’

Fire candles require no

Repose

December 1, 2014

Explanation, from Mark Strand

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 4:52 am

STRAND

Well, I think what happens at certain points in my poems is that language takes over, and I follow it. It just sounds right. And I trust the implication of what I’m saying, even though I’m not absolutely sure what it is that I’m saying. I’m just willing to let it be. Because if I were absolutely sure of whatever it was that I said in my poems, if I were sure, and could verify it and check it out and feel, yes, I’ve said what I intended, I don’t think the poem would be smarter than I am. I think the poem would be, finally, a reducible item. It’s this “beyondness,” that depth that you reach in a poem, that keeps you returning to it. And you wonder, The poem seemed so natural at the beginning, how did you get where you ended up? What happened? I mean, I like that, I like it in other people’s poems when it happens. I like to be mystified. Because it’s really that place which is unreachable, or mysterious, at which the poem becomes ours, finally, becomes the possession of the reader. I mean, in the act of figuring it out, of pursuing meaning, the reader is absorbing the poem, even though there’s an absence in the poem. But he just has to live with that. And eventually, it becomes essential that it exists in the poem, so that something beyond his understanding, or beyond his experience, or something that doesn’t quite match up with his experience, becomes more and more his. He comes into possession of a mystery, you know—which is something that we don’t allow ourselves in our lives.

from interview in Paris Review./ http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1070/the-art-of-poetry-no-77-mark-strand

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Mark Strand, April 11,1934-November 29,2014

September 10, 2014

My Ravine

 

 

When I arrive at my ravine

& even the underlying lies fall off,

Even then,  all the subtle murmurs can mean

Something sure enough to  yell off.

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If  & when I can arrive at my ravine cliff

I’ll sort the certainties, the lies

Of agonizing hesitations, if

Only  one  clarity would rise.

July 31, 2014

“COULD HAVE” –Wislawa Szymborska

Filed under: lost, mirrors, POEM, poetry, private, prose, surreal, WISE UP — Tags: , , , , , — namelessneed @ 7:53 am

It could have happened

It had to happen./It happened earlier. Later.

Nearer. Farther off.

It happened, but not to you.

You were saved because you were the first.

You were saved because you were the last.

Alone. With others.

On the right. The left.

Because it was raining. Because of the shade.

Because the day was sunny.                                                                                                                     

You were in luck — there was a forest.

You were in luck — there were no trees.

You were in luck — a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,

A jamb, a turn, a quarter-inch, an instant . . .

So you’re here? Still dizzy from

another dodge, close shave, reprieve?

One hole in the net and you slipped through?

I couldn’t be more shocked or

speechless.

Listen,

how your heart pounds inside me.

Submitted: F

July 28, 2014

Your Mind Is Your Predicament

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 5:00 am

 

 

“If you don’t get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don’t want, you suffer; even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can’t hold on to it forever. Your mind is your predicament. It wants to be free of change. Free of pain, free of the obligations of life and death. But change is law and no amount of pretending will alter that reality.”

 

                                                                         -Socrates

June 2, 2014

our cooler’s got

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 9:11 am

 

 

 

I’m muddied, still bloodied

from Monday night’s  fight.

While yr white wine’s worn off

My  new morning   is both  still,  &; still storming.

But it’s cool  our cooler’s got

Love Lite   all bottled up &; on ice.

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.                                                               (from 2009, & still)

 

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