scorpio intimacies

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