series 1

cats are patient
i'm six years older than i am and
the night cattails, crumples
itself around us,
us around the nearest star

everything i've been told
about hope, or other beliefs
has come crescendo and mute
against this one mime
of life, this ossified sky

this is every plane in the night,
every airport sigh, all supersonic
and concorde bright, let us amen
with our eyes closed, dream a
perfect god, atone

my other brother blog from another mothers blog...blog.

lookinme.blogspot.com

this is my other, older, first blog. god i hate the word "blog". but maybe some of the older posts in it will be worth your time. thank you for reading this.

here's time toward bright

you'll be laughing at the sun
one morning when train whistles
blow the moon down behind
the mountains shivering over
there

your horoscope says you've got it
made today, hooray! well, i've got
other news, your shoes
untied, and your watch quit telling
time

everyone you see is a potential
ghost, you'll see, sometimes buried
in books, or walking beside you
hands held way up-
ward

leaves all over one day blow
sofa colors whirl and through you
walk collapse in the grass, ghostlike
go into work, blushing, eyes
bright

Pyrrhic victory

there it is. pyrrhic victory. to have fought well and won, yet to have lost more than was worth your efforts.
:is a victory with devastating cost to the victor. The phrase is an allusion to King Pyrrhus of Epirus, whose army suffered irreplaceable casualties in defeating the Romans at Heraclea in 280 BC and Asculum in 279 BC during the Pyrrhic War. (Dictionary.com)

yay!

new words

oh, to be a poet again
write what the heart remembers

after seven years somehow
returned to me out of time
you're so different, no longer mine
yet there's still an unhealed sore
in the layer of my heart
where you inhabited that great
cluttered room

and i feel entitled to posses
you there again, but i'm not
maybe we were wrong
these last seven years, wrong
to have departed, but we weren't
and that's how the heart mis-
remembers

over and over convincing me
that i guess, yeah, i do
feel actually and i can no longer
deny my lost loves' lasting
impact


oh, to be a poet of forgetfulness again. if you do something well, do it so that it inspires you by your success at it, enables you to continue. i think that's what my friends have done that i wasn't sure about how to do. so many things got in the way. maybe this is how i can remove those obstacles. maybe.

locality of digression

locality of digression
8.7.08

the day passes away beneath us
hands malfunction slower circles
of mimic, was all we were
ever in this for was to show one
another what we are incapable of

love, we, lovely depart along
separate courses bound in
the night for other destinations
taste you on my teeth, mouth
aches with syllables spoken

ashen. sight out of crystal lifting
i know my future yet it, somehow,
doesn’t know me squeezes scent
doses out trajectory vector after
vector. rain, song, sun

live your way into your answers
your questions are pointless
otherwise, augment your life
with unknown languages prayers
to unnamed deities. let them
decide

decide hollow speech follows us

some things friends go
burdening beyond our
pinpluck horizons
events which will decide
us

a whisperwish shallow
water dream awake into
our naked bodies pressed
between pages hollow of
us

furnish night with scenery
bright as overpass rain
flickers in our voices find
some fragile line to speak in
us

where we go in sleep
determines our horoscope
offerings of potpourri
wings which can only follow
us