On the Threshold of
Silence
Absorbed by rabble noise my
tired voice trails unheard.
How can it matter what I
say?
A fool, I record hard travel
truth in written word
to scatter as if for use
someday.
Realize that my eyes see
uncommon visions.
My mind seeks to find
unlikely decisions.
My lips may seem gripped, but
that’s not done on purpose.
What I know doesn't show on
my nondescript surface.
How can I
explain,
entice suffice to
hear,
what isn't always
clear?
Notes of refrain
jumbled with
pain;
I must be
insane.
Lyrics
play with my inner
ear,
keeping me
guessing.
Burden or
blessing?
Of course you don't
care.
Just turbid notes on passing
air.
Weaving through
aether,
permeating
atmosphere,
essence I ache to
share
already
everywhere.
You never heard it from
me.
Infocontainment
Valerie Plame, Valerie Plame
The very fact that we all know your
name
is a crime.
So, who's doing time?
American splendor,
a pop carnavale.
The greedy get famous.
The poor rot in jail.
The glitter and star light
is doing its job:
distract and divide while
they rape, kill and rob.
Is that a pimple on my face?
Oh, I'm such a big disgrace!
I can't keep it all together as I
should.
The only explanation's I'm no
good.
I want too much. I need to
much.
I never learned to mind my p's and
q's.
I didn't toe the line and pay my
dues.
Now my opportunities
ooze beyond reach,
bleed out,
disappear.
What am I even saying?
If the right people hear, surely
despair's a treasonous crime.
And, unlike those Whitehouse
lackeys
I may well end in a cell doing
time.
October 23, 2007
Persephone's Breakthrough
This is where the idea is
born.
soft green meadows gently disappearing
into fall
sounds of dying, scent of woodfire and
candlelight
no separation between what is
becoming
accept and be revealed
summer's wild adventures
spring was a torrent of clarity,
precious rain,
Earth coarse, ready for fecund
pleasure
Queen of night in daylight's
realm
obsessed in flowering
roses and daffodils
valleys and nubile hills
all is vanity and laughing
vice
"But, Mother, I'm not a nice
girl.
I'm a creature of the breeze; secure in
shadow;
alive in the cutting edge of the
storm."
Myth in revision
standing at the back of the
playground
learning theater, tucking
metaphors
through interstices of sense and
dream
In spring, kicking stones along sandy
riverbeds
reading the classics
expecting valor, glory, dramatic
lines
Summer deceives
the stink of rot where flowers
bloom
ancient feuds, retaliations,
rage
tyrannosaurus feeding future
waste,
absorbing a zeitgeist of want, of
predation
within greed swollen seed infectious
fear
search for further truth
mythology frustrates, curls back on its
own ash
burn with hazy summer wine and
dance
feet connecting dust to sky -- but only
in designated
spheres, with designated peers,
self-selected inhibitions
sweat out poison into the ground; now,
eat the bounty
midsummer farce, far from clear, far
from sunrise,
counting out the chimes as if time were
treasure
silly summer madness as if what
matters
is so circumscribed, so
predictable
Early autumn firelight
reminiscent of witch hunts, ghosts of
cavalry,
dire warnings and endless hide and
strike
the game, the funhouse, turns
deadly
sanctuary calls, demanding
sacrifice
the noble phoenix fed on
frankenseed
can not rise
skies descend, dark
mirroring
smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft
and sweet
masks the taste of bitter bile, secret
vomiting
starving despite harvest's gay array of
treats
faded, nearly blind, falling in and out
of
shamanic fever, primeval native dancers
beyond sight,
ripple of tribal beat at the
periphery
ecstatic vision dark/light/agony and
brilliant breaks
starbright constellations
Traversing worlds
seasons, years, moments of
clarity
no need to travel, to invent
boundaries
dance of the highlands warmth and
sustenance
permeates
makes whole
October 23, 2009
