No conversations
Villagers have all gone home
Walls whisper hello
Wall Messengers
Tag Archives: writing
I Tried but Could Not Yet
I tried but I cannot yet do what must be done
Write a simple sonnet the friendly man says
Begin right after I read you this one
Maybe I haven’t yet worked hard enough
He seems so sure I’ll find the flow
Write about flowers or write about the blues
Write fourteen lines about buying new red shoes
Write a simple sonnet the friendly man says
Soon as you do you’ll be slipping into some silver sonic address
Reciting Dante while riding a horse called Volta
Through some echoing ancient forest
Next to Prosodic Avenue
I’ll be waiting for you.
Love Is Black And White And Beaches
Those are not my footprints in the sand
I stroll behind
I watch others’ footprints flow
Those are not my friends in the photograph
I stroll behind
I hope they would not mind
This is not my year for even numbers
I step aside
I am Aquarius and partly blind
This is not yet my year of death
I’m standing still
I am older now but destined perpetual Valentine
Stones in Pockets Traces in Sand
We walk for days across Sahara
This is the river you say
A million stones
Zazzle shape size spectrum
We wade without fear of drowning
Fossils distend my pockets
Their songs collide as I stride
A crack in thrum of silence
Homage to these rhythmic sands
I balance monument with Tamarisk shade
To remember
The weight
Stones
My palm warmed the stone
I plucked from the many
As we trod long across unfamiliar awaiting discovery
Before the steep
Before the onset of fear
Before staccato breaths bred control
I paused at a rubble pile
Sacred someone says
Safe passage to those who leave an offering
Balanced here in morning’s light
Horses
From above I saw them
Trio of pale mountain travellers
Sipping slipstream cooling parched tongues
Coats reflective of filtered autumn sun
Unhurried untamed unworried
Aware yet unmoved by human presence
I stood watching still as a stone
And imagined us as one untethered beast
Oh fleet footed wild ones
Were I able I’d run with you
After winds at our backs
Manes like wings flashing as we gallop high
To perilous wanderings of these unpredictable shadowy mountains
Empty Pages
Fill up all the empty pages
can’t seem to say what I want to say
all those phrases empty spaces
between me and a better way
I draw close to pen and paper so word wary
no resonance no rhythm no meaning necessary
I can’t dance
I can’t sing
I can’t wrestle this night train down
I can’t keep this beat
up time in my mind
Listen to the distant howling
is that a watcher in the wood?
Raise a wave for the black bird flying high
It is impossible to reach there
but I’m still going to try
And bird rides straight on through blood red sky
Dring
If you listen
you can hear it soft in the distance
a harp or a flutter of wings
song of wind against fragile leaves
whisper of velvet rain in trees
light as breath
clear as waterdrops
of icicles in spring.
Passing
I keep a poem in my pocket
holding on as I go
I open and I turn it
asking what it knows
If we meet
in the street
I may pass it to you
Put a poem in your pocket
friend sage so true.
Kindred
You, obscure and unknown
lonely quiet inside-looking-outters
bearers of fragile hearts beating earth minderers
early morning vision scribblers
imaginating further world articulators
colourers in darkness
openers of windows
unlockers of doors
shatterers of blinds
unseen dancers in moonlight
reciters of poetry by candlelight
painters of lifebreath on cool basement walls
believers in things that hardly matter at all
hallucinators of Beauty amidst shatter and rubble
You, stragglers lingerers
dreaming humming sudden songsingerers
moongazers stargliders
slow walkers between frenzied hurry-up-or-you’ll-be-left-behinders
seekers wanderers
hitchhikers cosmic giant thumb colliders
rainy night half naked pale horse riders
hopeful rhythmic intoxicated drumbeaters
sometime purple feather and white lily flower eaters…
I love you.
