spinning and sharing

Archive for April, 2010|Monthly archive page

Water Buffalo<

In Poetry on April 26, 2010 at 5:13 pm

Hey beast, I see you,

yonder on the grassy shore

Tethered and peaceable

and alone.

So I’m pulling over, paddle laid

straightaways on my lap

Palms on the bow

That means peace, by the way

My god,

You’re beautiful.

You’re shy, too, stealing looks at me

As I stare your bronze body into shame

The sun

hits you

in

such

a

way.

Your horns are short and neat

and sweet, you couldn’t gore me,

would you?

Mine companions thataways, drifting down the teal river

We’re alone so…

So finally now, we share a gaze

Longer than memory, history,

And in two onyx abysses I’m lost.

I seek

To return, go back to a time

When your nostrils weren’t threaded with string

And that life,

Where as a pure peach one-inch boy,

I hung happily on your neck.

Poem about Yong Ding Men

In Poetry on April 26, 2010 at 2:16 pm

Yong Ding Men

When it turns you around
There
Like something infinitely distant,
walk towards it.
Each step takes hearts and minds
Into the past
Sandy peddlers
Wrap and unwrap sandy goods and meals
Sandy problems,
Stir and blow
Each step a little closer
to passing them,
Closer to a gate of Heaven.
Across now a rift road of universe
Black Tar
Yellow Striped
reminds us with a jarr,
of the now
Look both ways, no one’s hand to hold
And back on the path again
To Heaven.
Away from loneliness each footfall rests
In the ground, steady rhythm,
beating heart, step, step
And as the sun cools
We reach cool stone walls to rest.
Sit down, breath deep and see
Dogs run past, on children’s feet
Children speak with confidence
Wearing brightly helmets
Fallen, stars pick themselves up
And commence to racing colorfully
Across the ancient stones.
Wheelchairs pushed
by their ancient riders
Once lame,
Newly liberated, newly blessed,
By something like Heaven.
Loving hands, sandy hands
Guide orange kites
Tailed blue kites and white kites
Steadfast minnows swimming in place
As the grey evening waters
Push the cloud lilies past them
Laughter kind and pure,
Equal under Heaven.
And then from the laughter movement now flows ribbon like
Bold
From the quiet pastel scene and those spry twinkle-eyed elders
Revered and mischievous,
Arise with colored plumes in hand
Fan dancing to the dragon drums
And the thunder cymbals wrought by gods
Each crash of which a crowd grows here
And the carriages of red and gold rumble on the stones
Each father, daughter looking on
With jesters, princes, concubines
And gossiping mother swans
In the Court of Heaven.
A crippled whore,
Vermillion
From lips to toes, limps to her place
Her steps and plumes same same
As all the others
She sways,
Revered as all the others.
The crowd delighted, joyous,
as the dancers step
Bards and soldiers clap their hands
As pauper children dart and dash
Between the wheels of bicycles.
And the old Lao Tou
Wrinkled beyond measure,
His wizened one eye watching
He keeps the beat with a closed fan
Softly tapping the arm
Of his jade throne, the one with wheels
Of stainless steel and rubber
Tap, tap, tap.
The sky dimming now like a closing eye
Keep walking forward, children
Young and old,
To and from Heaven.
Steady, step

Caballo Rojo

In Poetry on April 22, 2010 at 6:08 am

Caballo Rojo

In those deep quiet channels

Where whispers die with yells

He bursts from boiling waters

Like ten thousand bells

Death’s head rearing back

Long nosed,  cold and gray

A whinny akin to

Cerberus’s bay.

Seen never by eyes, living or sane

Racing starved through screaming forests,

and frozen, anguished plains.

The windy hooves so fast

with the speed of famine, swift as plague

The horse cuts swaths through dappled dreams

And the best of men fall and fade

The red steed, the terror, the dread

Gallops hourglass steady, ready

-Tick tock, tick tock-

Dead ahead.

Among plowshares and

wars where blood runs red,

The red, red blood,

The mad Death’s head.

Amongst grinning skulls now,

the skulls of warriors, fools

Swept in nightmare tide

But also innocence, too

There were innocents, Two

In his wake no hopeless lovers,

nor morrow’s dew,

Their last embrace tight

before they, the black horse slew.

Phantasmal coil, the chrismal fear

That half-flayed gorgon, when he nears

Has no pity for you, or for me, my dear…

…save a tear.

A tear?

“A tear!” one bold child one night said

In the warm candled cottage, fingers clinging to bread

“I’ve seen them dead eyes shed tears

On nights black as lead,

I’ve seen the brightest stars fall

From that sad Death’s Head

And I know it’s a sad job, spreading the death that he spreads.”

Hush child, now hush!

You foolish bad luck scamp

You’d like the Reaper himself

To sit in our laps?

And they cackled and laughed:

“Go to bed, and make haste!”

While they smiled and clinked glasses

Eyes merry with waste.

Sin or no sin, they’d lived happy lives

Though not one of them wished

For their own last sunrise,

Their talk turned to griffons

Chimeras, caged

Of the adder folk, wispins,

And the hobgoblin sage.

Then to coins, politics, breeding,

And age

Then to Parson Gray’s daughter

And her husband’s quick rage.

And the child, silent pouting

Took the steps out of sight

While watching above them,

On that sugar starred night,

waiting to swoop and unleash his blight,

from a speckled blood moon,

where the ghosts go to wed

A  tear fell from the eye

of the grieving Death’s head.

Don’t be fooled by Spring!

In Poetry on April 15, 2010 at 10:10 pm

the birds and the bees
were bending their knees,
trying to taste from the spring
when along came pollen,
red eyes, and mosquitoes
to assert their position as kings.

at a party i don’t belong at

In Poetry on April 15, 2010 at 9:58 pm

ωearing my awkward, autumn shirt,

I joined in and

an acquaintance attached to a buddy,

a good buddy,
that i care about,
she asked me, “What happened?”
….
because you are so beautiful.
this person’s only seen
photos,
of you, and me.
never heard your smile
or traversed the plainscape
of your face,
but she kept asking,
meanwhile
the revelers reveled,
in the party’s liquid blaze.
kept asking a cold question
freezing their yearning bodies,

their summer sweat,

never touched by, by,

alone

kept asking a question that
solidified that moment:
Why?
Why?
because no one
turns their back,
and casts a cold shadow,
on an orchid, rose,
a tulip,
in its heart aching, tiring bloom,
unless,
I imagine,
and of course,
they are fools.

Clarity like a sunbeam

In Uncategorized on April 4, 2010 at 2:25 pm

4/4/2010

Waiting for a Star to Fall, Boy Meets Girl.

Feels like this has been building up for a long time, but I’ve been scared to crash.  But…I think it’s too much to deny as mere emotional high.  It’s enough, I cross my fingers when i say this, to dispel the darkness.

I am more comfortable in this husk than ever before.  I’m ready to be golden in the sunshine.