Josh Keiter's Blog

Whose Light

2011-04-30T23:24:00.000-04:00

If never again
for a moment

let there be
a sun yearning

for the ground
as underneath we

grasp the blue
sky obscuring

the black stars
whose light

diminished still
even obliterated

has yet to reach
our lonely eyes

if not to know
at least to see.

The Anthropic Principle

2011-04-29T23:47:00.000-04:00

Echo starts but never
stops

like a window broken with
pavement

outstretched beneath the tree
trying

to outsmart unsuccessfully the capricious
whims

of unintended consequence
did

you see the way the town is open now to
view

now that none of the buildings are
left

pictures strewn homeless uninhabited
drift

can’t get there from here there is
nowhere

used to be things seemed to be just
settled

a little more permanent now all that’s
gone

Stormed

2011-04-28T23:55:00.000-04:00

This morning the roof was leaking
and I swear I felt the electricity
in the air just before the thunder
and lightning struck at the same time

I expected to look out the window
to find a tree split open and
swaying precariously on the power lines
as torrential sheets of rain shuddered past

But instead I went back to sleep
hoping the books on my shelf stayed dry
when I awoke the sun was shining
and the air was too thick to breathe

In Time

2011-04-27T23:56:00.000-04:00

Soon enough
the month will end

it could not end
soon enough

A Walking Zen Koan

2011-04-26T23:44:00.000-04:00

How can there be
a title
with no poem attached?

Yes.

Bounded

2011-04-25T23:56:00.000-04:00

Except for the fact
that nothing ever changes
the world would be
unrecognizable you can tell

by the way the leaves
are appearing now on the branches
and the river streams by
as if there were no such thing

as a straight line
there must be a way to reach
the small island with grass
in the middle of the river

whether by rock or branch
someone must have stepped
before upon the shore unshored
though uninhabited obviously

once it was attached to land
then somehow split apart
and now it waits patiently
for reunion or relief

the way the light reflects
upon and off the water
and passes the little island by
still searching for its home

the leaves the light
the water the island
will never find
its own way back

Worded

2011-04-24T23:28:00.000-04:00

Holding tightly
to the image

things are symbols
of themselves

and rightly so
when the metaphor

is concretized
such that you cannot

breathe so much
as a whisper

without regarding
it as sin

we all fall short
of the glory of God

simultaneously
we create

that which on earth
is not in heaven

because heaven
turns out to be

not just beyond
the clouds

but rather
in the heart

of the words
which can never

be heard exactly
the same way

or even twice
always and only

broken and blessed
in their brokenness

wholly.

Mistranslated

2011-04-23T21:32:00.000-04:00

It is not
an exaggeration
to say that

every creed
yet devised
is inadequate

to experience
and still
we cling

to old words
in languages
no one speaks

to make the dark
mirror shine
in the darkness

like it was
already bathed
in blood

or bread
we already
digested.

Tenebrae

2011-04-22T23:06:00.000-04:00

Walking
down the block
it begins to rain

existence
is unbearable
in its fullness

each step
is another death

each step
is another birth

Cold Snap

2011-04-21T23:22:00.000-04:00

The chords of early spring sound
resemble chords of early autumn

the trees struggle to burst their branches
while people turn the collars up on their porches

against the cold nothing to do
but wait for the outside to breathe in again

as the screen door swings off its hinges
letting in through the gash the bugs who never left

somehow they found a way to endure
as the milky way continues its imperceptible spin

above our heads

Don't Panic

2011-04-20T23:32:00.000-04:00

We keep finding
new and better ways
of having nothing to do

All the fire escapes
landed with
a thud

I tried to be disjointed
and ironic
but the converses didn’t fit

The sidewalk goes
sideways
and is all the better for it

They tore the building down
in the open air
and we breathed in the dust

This road is closed for repair
the detour
is also closed

If there was an answer
to existence
then we would find it

Instead there is no existence
no answer
so no finding out

Don’t panic
these are only
fragments

Two Rain Haiku

2011-04-19T22:33:00.000-04:00

The longest rain of
the season starts small but grows
into big puddles

Soon the rain is not
rain any more it’s only
really big puddles

But If Not

2011-04-18T23:49:00.000-04:00

for what was
in the beginning

what deteriorates
as it progresses

into thick memory
thinning out

as the universe
expands and contracts

in one sweeping motion
indiscernible

to the apparent eye
will the darkness

prevail over evil
when the stone

is rolled away
will the emptiness

uncause itself
leaving the world

just as it is
and nothing more

nothing more

For Keeps

2011-04-17T23:51:00.000-04:00

Grasping the coin
with clenched fists
pointed at the ground

leaves you unable
to open your hand
and to see the coin

surrounded by all this space.

Just Like Spring Rain

2011-04-16T23:17:00.000-04:00

All day the day has been
raining so hard even the rain

is raining
such that the streets become oceanlike

in their appearance
swaying as it were like a wave

like a giant waterfall
save for the spray

no-one knows where it goes
the creeks are too constraint

to contain it all
so overflow it tides

over the retaining wall
into the haunted streets

awaiting mudslide
and tumult seepage

this rain began deep underground
on the other side of the world

underside the world
where life grows from the core

unlike the sun
stretching over the horizon

even the first person in space
could see the folds in earth

where rivers riven run
disregarding the too bright sun

all of a piece
these tender catastrophes

the magnificent desolation
we are all born into

drenched in rain
flowing undertow

overwhelmed.

Composition

2011-04-15T23:41:00.000-04:00

The road is composed
of individual pebbles

indistinguishable

unless you place your head
too close to the ground

Mum-Mum, Verbatim

2011-04-14T23:26:00.000-04:00

I had a very interesting—
background let’s put it that way,
and yet I found head resident
at Shippensburg University
the most challenging one I ever had.

Because when I went up there
they did have, they had to be—
and this is for your benefit—
they had to be in at nine during the week
and eleven thirty, twelve o’clock—
this is the girls I’m talking about, of course—
then it wasn’t long—oh and then I went through
the—it was the Vietnam stage of the war
and the guys burnt their cards,
yeah it was a restless time.

And then after that short—
a little while after that in years
there was restlessness growing on campus
in regards to if the guys could have girls and all that
why couldn’t the girls?
So that provoked, of course the civil liberty union was in on that.
And then of course when I first went up there,
the alcohol scenes on campus.
Now this was a long while ago,
and anyhow that was it, the alcohol scenes,
so I was meeting all of these things.

Well I didn’t deal with the girl directly—
I had, as you would know, a senior resident,
and then but we had—and then after a while
we, under the guidance of the psychologist and everything,
which we had a lot of training
we had our own judge and jury in the dormitory—
that would be of interest to you—
and we had I’ll call them penalties for certain things
but at the very beginning the girls were expelled
or suspended for alcohol, use of alcohol
then the girls did get in to the dorm,
I mean the guys did get into the dormitory
but I didn’t stay up all night, you bet I wouldn’t ask
there was a guy sat on desk to open the front door
but you know as many got in that back door as the front door.

It was interesting in the respect that—
there was a break in with a stranger
and I never locked my door,
but I happened to see it was Christmastime,
excuse me near Christmas,
and we decorated our hallway door
and I had mine covered with dark blue
whatever you call that paper
no name on my door then
and this one night I was there
I had only a dim lamp on
and my door opened just this way
and I said who’s there
and the door goes in this way
so I knew something was amiss
and then I thought I can’t stay in here
but if I step out I might get conked on the head!
What do you do?
So I took a deep breath, said a prayer, and I opened the door
and fortunately across the hall was a girl’s door open
now this girl had been sick all day
it was a blessing so it gave me a chance to speak to her
and also turn around and come back and I could see,
but just as quickly as I got in my door
there was another person behind me
and it was a senior assistant and she said to me
Mrs. Hudson there’s a man in the house
I said I know it I saw his—
when I went out I saw his eyes peeking over the door
from the girl’s bathroom—

So my life was full of interesting things
that’s only one of them.

If you remember you tell one
now that you’re bringing back memories
they get all—I got so many! I can’t sort them out.

Whore Ship

2011-04-13T23:27:00.000-04:00

pay no attention
to the cipher behind the curtain

the curtain which is torn
in two

revealing the extraneous
phenomena within

these aren’t the deities
you are looking for

we threw the book
away and sent

for reinforcements
a couple billion or so

to pay homage
to their own image

sacrificing blood
for more blood

and more blood
endlessly amen

I Am A Scientist

2011-04-12T23:46:00.000-04:00

To shuffle off the old skin is to
represent mistaken identity as a
condition of being alive when you
first look into a mirror you have
nothing to compare it to you see
only the reflection never your own
eyes staring back at you in the
middle the space where the staring
takes place they might have called it
ether when they thought the air was
a quintessence of nothing before they
discovered everything has a substance they
looked at spaces between things as the
only way to determine meaning before they
discovered they could split the nothingness to
create a new thing which did not exist before
they nurtured the new thing as one of their
own they only had eyes for this one
thing where there used to be no thing now
they had eyes with which they could see with

The Necessary Myth

2011-04-11T23:31:00.000-04:00

The necessary myth
causes undeniable trembling
at the thought that this
is all that there is
nothing more than a little
rhythmical grumbling at
the cause of chemical synthesis
which has not been discovered yet yet
lies shifting at the center
before the center had been lost
of every single living thing
in these last days
waiting to be found
in the last place we look

Parlor City

2011-04-10T23:07:00.000-04:00

Old towns reverberate
with lack of industry

there used to be a giant
swimming pool here

but it was demolished
due to disuse and disinterest

everywhere you go
there’s another carousel

with no one riding it
but ghosts of yesteryear

unemployed along with
the abandoned buses

by the railroad tracks
they’re settled in there now

no way anyone’s gonna
move them or take them away

Breathe

2011-04-09T23:59:00.000-04:00

Years are marked
by chord changes

traced by blur
phosphorescence

indivisible voice
blended to loop

from beginning
no end only echo

to improvise into
separate tones

distilled to memory—
I’d go easy on myself

if I were you
I didn’t hear I thought

I heard this song before

Tautologies

2011-04-08T23:27:00.000-04:00

In order to know that you are saved
you must be told you are damned to begin with

In order to be told you are damned
you must listen to the ones who are doing the telling

In order to listen to what you are told
you must shut off your critical faculties

In order to shut off your critical functions
you must learn to develop them in the first place

In order to develop your critical thinking
you must have something worth criticizing

In order to discover things to be critical of
you must discern the divisions inherent in nature

In order to see things that are different
you must know they are one and the same after all

In order to count to zero
you must create the concept of zero for yourself

In order to dissolve into nothingness
you must have had a concrete self that was convincing

In order to have a concrete self
you must learn to avoid the reflection of mirrors

In order to refract the light
you must allow the source of light to come in

In order to open the window
you must have entered the door at the start

In order to unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs
you must contradict multitudes

In order to lean and loaf at your leisure
you must have done some work that was worthwhile

In order to go on the dole
you must be recognized by the state

In order to be society’s dumb puppet
you must have been a very good baby

In order to be beautiful
you must abandon the beauty in yourself

In order to be magnanimous
you must be prepared to give the world big bear hugs

In order see the world as it is
you must know you are already in the world

In order to be here now already
you must wake up yesterday

In order to fall asleep
you must allow one day to precede the other

In order to let time progress
you must abandon all hope ye who enter here

In order to navigate the vastness
you must look up at the night sky

In order to avoid light pollution
you must stay away from fences and streets

In order to weave in and out of traffic
you must have faith in hither and thither

In order to stay in one place at one time
you must scatter your self freely to whomever come who may

In order to take communion
you must open your mouth

In order to breathe the breath that everyone breathes
you must know there is nothing new under the sun

In order to build a house on solid shifting sand
you must save up a great deal

In order to shore up your treasures in heaven
you must no heaven

In order to follow the river without end
you must find your way to the sea

In order to find your buoyancy
you must sink to the bottom of whatever

In order to be rescued from the well
you must realize you are not alone

In order to face the blood within
you must recognize your skin is translucent

In order to accept your temporary
you must be uncreated

In order to find the first cause
you must return to zero

In order to hear the emptiness
you must know when enough is enough

Not That This

2011-04-07T22:59:00.000-04:00

We were not born
with an aversion to the past

to the moment by moment
infinitesimal delay

recognizing that
we cannot cling to this

much longer before
there is another

more tenuous to connect with
moment that appears more ephemeral

with each passing glance
out the window river of trees

buds so small
they cannot be seen

the clinging on the contrary
comes later

when it becomes increasingly
evident the only constant

is cliche as in the repeated phrase
I have heard this one before

and each moment is an opportunity
for something new

but before you blink
even

it is gone

Church

2011-04-06T23:54:00.001-04:00

I spent the service
looking at two

deflated balloons
settled in the rafters

Turnpike

2011-04-05T22:42:00.000-04:00

Before I let go
with both hands behind my back
let me just say this:

The question is not
whether the rock can contain
an abandoned life

But if life escapes
the rock—to languish and thrive
in labor and toil

Outside of the gate
separating atmosphere
from lack of presence

Who is then to say
the world is not so unmade
that we should control

To shape and tinker
designing what is without
design—such as this

Mountain put aside
for the sake of a new road
same as the old road

In that it traversed
the same path thru the empty
landscape abandoned

After extracting
all natural resources
and since become things

Long returned to ground
and far below the old bridge
beside the new bridge

Which cannot return
to rock—for they have begun
the demolition

No longer a thing
discarded it can return
to its destiny

Prefabricated
before we took liberty
to undo our birth

Wondering who could
have designed this strange nonsense—
so much to improve

We don’t have the time.

Seconds

2011-04-04T21:28:00.000-04:00

If you are granted
three wishes, make the first wish
infinite wishes

Nothing in fine print
should prevent you from taking
all that you require

No one in this life
gets what they require—that’s why
wars begin with war

No cease fires here
nor other tinderboxes
set to light with light

Sunlight that falls on
your face took millions of years
to reach your fragile

Then interrupted
by a passing cloud which took
a second to form

For my second wish
I would like perhaps to take
my first bad wish back

Echoes of the spheres—
regret makes it possible
for the earth to turn

Maybe it turns back
gets tired of its direction
every now and then

When calendars end
our only recourse is to
stop a horse midstream

Which it found a way
to step within more than once
tired of its crossing

Across galaxies
only one thing can travel—
dim radio song

If there were no eyes
we could not see the sound made
when strung together

Like this like that like
this like that like this like that
like this like that and

Infinity smiles
it makes nothing not a sound
in love with itself

And its productions
of time quietly humming
within the bottle

The Impossible Heap

2011-04-03T21:36:00.000-04:00

And so I will let these moments
halt and accumulate

imprecisely and without merit
from one distance to the next

with no thought of what came before
or what followed as eventually

there comes a point in the distance
it is not here yet

when these moments coalesce
into indiscrete undifferences

and will see as it were
the motion that brings forth

as water from a great untamed sea
what singes action into movement

at the pivot of what was will be what
whole towns float and dissipate

in the sway and mist of unseen
separate unknown muddy photographs

gathered into a basket
never to be filled unclaimed

for what else is there to do
but to live as if in wait

for the time that will be
and by definition remains unknown

still known as we are known
when distinctions leave nothing

to the imagination
yet they are not there

and never were but for a brief
distracting interlude

to the depths of suffering
such an insignificant sliver

delivers a different deliverance
impossibly

Who Was Around

2011-04-02T00:50:00.000-04:00

If you stay long enough in the theater alone
you will meet the ghost who lives there

The question of whether time travels differently
as age arrives unbidden A commodity

neither purchased nor requested
as in a catalogue that arrives on the steps

and you leaf through for nothing better
and find yourself ordering the first thing you see

Is not really a question because it is experienced
and no one has ever experienced a question

There is no mystery in the presence of a flower
only in a flower that has not arrived yet

because nothing ever arrives it only persists
straining to meet the light thru the window

as all things are drawn together
by the fact that they exist together

and you cannot think of anything separately
as one moment proceeds from preceding the next

for lack of proceeds the fund drive continues
and you watch the stale concert for lack

of anything better on at that hour
and you wake up at three am in the morning

wondering where the time went and where it goes
nobody knows but at least it cannot be counted

says the flickering specter across the table from you
as the ghost disappears into the refrain of rehearsal

for lines never to be delivered only revised
and revised perpetually until the final draft

And you close the window to keep the air out

If I Told You

2011-03-31T23:16:00.000-04:00

If I told you that things
are impermanent
would that make things any better

If I told you that is that things
are always and only
false impressions
given to exaggeration
would that make the road seem less stern

If I told you in a manner of speaking that things
are held only for the briefest instance
a flickering legerdemain
as when the rabbit suddenly appears
conjuring a magician
would you hold the cavern of your eye closed longer

If I told you as all the great storytellers do
that once upon a time in the beginning
is where our story begins
when things meet their purpose
in the substance of their unknowing
would you take it as a given
that your mind is only in your head

If I told you the blackbird escaped its noticing
and things begin to break down
in the process of their observation
would thirteen be enough to count to infinity
would the banana peel still be slippery
would caution be thrown to the solid wall
and ricochet back in our faces
would there be time left for counting

If I told you in no uncertain terms
there is a harbor in the distance
to which you may take refuge
but if you agree to step on the boat
you must never return
to the self who carried you on the boat in the first place
and there is no space to keep your things
would you have enough change to make the trip

If I told you it is unlikely
that winter will ever end
not without taking all our things
and burying them indiscriminately
all over the planet only to be discovered
with the next thaw
would you still invest in a snow blower

If I told you that this is perfection
no this is perfection here
no here this is perfection
no perfection this is here
a slightly more embodied thing
would you awake rubbing your eyes in astonishment

If I told you somehow you have
escaped the realm of transcendence
and are now completely thing
and must rise in the morning like any other singularity
would the cereal still be served with spoons

If I told you that things happen
these things happen
it is the way things work
would that be any consolation

Vodka (Mythogram 6)

2010-08-09T21:38:00.000-04:00

And so God sat down with atheism and fundamentalism
for their regular marriage counseling session
and straight away God cut to the chase and asked them
why they were so concerned with Absolutes
to which they didn’t really have a very good reply
so God reminded them that he banished Absolutes when he separated
land from sky and day from night and male from female et al.
and that there are quite simply no privileged frames of reference
God said you know it’s kind of like that old joke about all things in moderation especially moderation
except in this case Absolutes just simply don’t exist
and this is about the time when atheism and fundamentalism got their act together
and came up with the best retort they could which was to ask God
how in the world they could be having this conversation if there were no Absolutes
and God replied in his best marriage counselor voice Our Time Is Almost Up

Going Down on Laying Down the Law (Mythogram 5)

2010-08-05T01:09:00.000-04:00

And so God decided that without any further ado he had better
spend some time reading this book that humans kept claiming was written by him
so he sat down and began doing the usual skimming back and forth at random that he does with books
and he was really kind of shocked at how much killing and pillaging and smiting he found
and the slicing off of bits of flesh that he considered really rather intelligently designed
and there was some groovy dude who showed up kind of like a deus ex machina in the back third of the book
and then for no apparent reason that section wound up kind of fantasy violent in the end too
but what really upset God and I mean this in no uncertain terms what really upset God
was this preoccupation with condemning human people of the same gender for laying down together
even though those passages were hard to find and obviously exaggerated for effect
and a quick scan of Google News confirmed that people were still rather hung up on those obscure passages
which really got God’s goat and he couldn’t understand it because apparently according to this same book he had made humans in his own image
and despite all their foibles and I mean seriously annoying and really embarrassing-to-fellow-deities foibles
he couldn’t help but love them as much as he loved himself and would lay down with them all if he got the chance

The Sound of One Tree Clapping (Mythogram 4)

2010-08-04T00:32:00.000-04:00

And God grew quite nostalgic for the timeless formless time and form
he was while contemplating himself as pure being
before splitting himself into constituent parts
thereby entering the field of time and duality
and everything got kind of run amok
what with the existence of suffering along with joy
and it wasn’t very clear from what people were saying about him which he preferred
even though he’d like to agree with those who found him immanently in everything
the idea just kind of gave him the willies
so he went back to being the deist clockmaker god
a term which also confounded him because even if God needed to tell time
he wasn’t exactly the type who wears a watch
but that too grew tiresome because everything he created was so damn interesting
he couldn’t help poking his head around the corner here and there

The Babelfish is a Dead Giveaway (Mythogram 3)

2010-08-02T22:42:00.000-04:00

And slowly God came to understand that being
a God of the gaps he was running out of things to be responsible for
as the advances of science and high fructose corn syrup
were putting him into tinier and tinier obsolescent corners
so to be frank he thumbed his way out of the backwaters
of an insignificant spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy
hitching a ride with a Higgs Boson particle
which would only further delay its discovery by a billion dollar donut in the ground
and he propelled himself out past the event horizon
bumping and grinding with some background radiation from the Big Bang
which increasingly he was finding himself of the opinion was a bad idea to begin with
and he exclaimed out loud not for the first time why didn’t I make the multiverse infinite in the first place
which of course only inadvertently started its own universe
with its own set of problems that God would soon have to concern himself with

By Any Other Name (Mythogram 2)

2010-08-01T23:31:00.000-04:00

And it came to pass that God grew tired and impatient
with all of the people who insisted on calling him names
including the ones who went by the names of Hitchens and Dawkins and Harris
whom God collectively referred to as Hitchawkis
because they sounded like a New Jersey suburb phrased that way
so God kept inventing more and more things that needed names
like tricycles and pomegranates and developing nations
but God couldn’t create a garage large enough to put everything in without throwing it away
so he hereby inscribed a moratorium on the naming of things
which if he’d thought of sooner would have saved a lot of kerfuffle between aardvarks and zebras
but that was all in the past anyway which God had forgotten about
seeing as how he was still contemplating himself in the eternal groves of memory
which God put together in a rush the other day leaving the house
when he suddenly realized he couldn’t remember how to misplace his keys

Dispersant (Mythogram 1)

2010-07-31T10:02:00.000-04:00

And on the hundredth day God rested said
screw you guys I’m going home
or its equivalent in Aramaic
a language God didn’t invent
but was merely an early proponent of
He left the wildlife to its own devices
floating backside up in a kiddie pool
with nothing for lunch but some morsels
mysteriously drifting on the top layer of the water
God said let it be fruit of the loom and multiply
and lo the essence passed through the bulging masses
so that all of God’s creation might eat
and slowly drift themselves to the surface
bloated and starving for his presence

Lascaux

2010-07-27T23:36:00.000-04:00

Into the darkness
crawl tight space thru earth to walls
painted with no light

Hunter with bird mask
becomes animal shaman
opening the ground

Thru which things will spring
and return but for our sake
living by eating

Life feeds but on life
that begins what art there is
with masks and the flame

Uncounted

2010-07-27T00:56:00.000-04:00

I’ve been following
the thread for so long that I
can’t recall the start

Beginnings account
for half of truth not only
they are unfinished

Finished and done with
the only words I cannot
find myself speaking

Already spoken
for once I’m untethered to
any translation

Mistaken belief
converted to possible
resembles onion

When You Have Finished Reading This Haiku

2010-07-23T13:38:00.000-04:00

It’s occurred to me
that past is prologue only
to ideas of past

You can’t remember
the same situation twice
it gets more complex

In that it must deal
with continuing notions
of unmade present

A life kept on hold
is a moment that is not
strict movement forward

It has been days now
since the moon was visible
but Venus twinkles

Not quite like a star
because that song is over
we stopped singing it

You can tell silence
in the sound that surrounds it
and in nothing else

Currently

2010-07-17T23:55:00.000-04:00

My past life seems to be the only thing
current in my life right now
a stationwagon packed to the roof
obstructing the rearview mirror
electrical sputtering at the end of the line
the banks of the river strewn with waste
I have boxes of videotapes
I would like to convert to another format
just to spend the hours as they were spent
when they were first recorded
mostly for the commercials I fast forwarded
when they were current
those thirty second chunks
extending to two minutes twice maybe five
the only way that life is spent
the only definition of now
is something already lapsed plus or minus
between two and five minutes from the current
so very many things to catch up on
if there is time to be had

The Day After Spending Four Days on the Ocean

2010-07-14T12:58:00.000-04:00

The house
swayed.

SCWF

2010-07-07T23:27:00.000-04:00

This time tomorrow
I’ll be on a boat drifting
on the big ocean

Vacation I guess
though I’d rather be eating
tacos in Greenpoint

I need time with friends
‘til then I’ll be unemployed
dreaming of some cake

That’s right I said cake
the only thing that matters
is some cake with friends

Two Things

2010-07-06T23:57:00.000-04:00

So many years now
I have lived
in and out of this house
and still when I glance
out the window I mistake
the glowing clock in the tower
for the moon

*

I must admit
I feel fortunate
to live in a corner of space-time
that includes
Fables of the Reconstruction
by R.E.M.

Bursting Bubbles

2010-07-05T23:28:00.000-04:00

All the world is a bubble
if not for the thin slice of atmosphere
we would be floating weightless
and by we I mean everything you have ever known
inexorably exposed to the sun
reconnected to the elements that created us
so uncreated we could continue
dissociated from the separateness that plagues us
to expand in the ever increasing bubble
of the entire universe pushing into the unknown
which does not exist yet except
in our desire to make ourselves known
not as separate distinct entities
but instead a boiling mass of matter
fortunate to evolve a mind of its own
a syllable starting at the back of the throat
that extends and will not end except for the lips

More Cosmological Haiku

2010-07-04T23:52:00.000-04:00

Seeds at the bottom
of cucumber salad bowl
stirred galaxy forms

Fireworks on TV
take a second to realize
not supernovas

Wait for universe
to reassemble to dark
energy matters

Landscape

2010-07-02T02:14:00.000-04:00

All information
beyond the horizon is
irretrievable

Particles contain
mass although we have to say
we don’t know what gives

If we create it
there is no way to contain
its escape elsewhere

Universe expands
no telling how many more
others there might be

It’s worth finding out
even though we can’t visit
perhaps a postcard

Just like other stuff
we know it when we see it
then it disappears

Records and Tapes (Practice Haiku)

2010-07-01T00:10:00.000-04:00

New Jersey traffic
Lexus jackass on bluetooth
what a fucking putz

*

Cultural critique
only provides more impact
with profanity

*

Disconnected from
any apparent sequence
one moment in time

*

Nostalgia disguised
as unwitting repentance
not quite a question

*

Videocassettes
records and tapes and vinyl
can all still be played

*

Distance between things
can be measured by nothing
so much as itself

*

Compare this to that
to this to that to this to
that is everything

*

Factor of zero
can someone please tell me why
it’s two syllables?

*

Typewriter poems
refashion your brain into
something quite different

*

Probably shouldn’t
use the word ‘thing’ in haiku
not concrete enough

*

Concrete is splitting
and nobody walks around
so nothing gets fixed

*

You must be kidding
month is over already?
here comes another

Cake Door, a Haiku Sequence

2010-06-27T23:31:00.000-04:00

There is nothing else
that will satisfy—only
doors that lead to cake

Doors of perception
don’t need to be cleansed—except
to make room for cake

I opened the door
the cake lay on the table—
and then it was gone

Midnight, a closed door
really only means one thing—
Someone eating cake

Light in the window
streaming under the doorway
to make room for cake

All the doors are brown
And the sky is cake—I went
for a walk—more cake

There aren’t enough doors
down the hallway filled with cake—
they are occupied

Close door behind you
and I will share a secret—
Here’s my secret cake

So many problems—
many slammed doors in the world
can be solved with cake

I thought I saw Mars
peer through a door in the sky
Nope—it was just cake

Finish the threshold
I am working very hard
The cake by the door

Something Else The Same

2010-06-25T23:50:00.000-04:00

Somehow the separation
enacts as a beginning
neither middle nor end
if we recognize anything
along the way it is happenstance
and nothing more
light breaking thru the ceiling
that nevertheless collapses
leaving you in a state
as much undifferentiated
as something unrecognizable
which is what you were when
you did not have a face waiting
in the wings of the mirror stage
for your line a miscue
that somehow finds a pocket
for god does not play dice
only just to abolish chance
in the midst of something else
was it I who was saying
this feels like something else
do I dare to presume
to start something else by myself
which is a universe after all

Half the Sky

2010-06-25T12:50:00.000-04:00

We look up to see
only half the sky because
earth hides the other

On the Longest Tennis Match that Still Has Not Ended

2010-06-24T00:36:00.000-04:00

Without question
a course for endurance occurs
on the blinding blades of grass
in between back and forth
of unending yield
for immortality means never change
a currency of perpetual birth
can only give rise to answer
with one more slide
into precipitant obsolescence
if one was not there to see
the sun set it will return
waiting for the clock to break again
we will keep the score on our skin
and run out of flesh real fast

Elusive Predicate

2010-06-23T00:42:00.001-04:00

When memory becomes
so uncontainable
it turns into present tense
or you wake up thinking of
the dreams you will have
tomorrow night
or you realize the sound
you hear in the distance
is unidentifiable
or the rain drips through
the ceiling unattached
to any normal fixture
or the sky gets born
along with the sea
and everything in it
or you cannot believe
you ever were led
to unbelief like that
or you keep looking
for the word that saves you
when the word is listening
for the breath that saves you

Radio Visage Haiku

2010-06-17T23:13:00.001-04:00

Deep—the night whispers
A breeze comes thru the window
Crackle and static

Reverse

2010-06-16T23:57:00.001-04:00

I take a picture in reverse
in place of the real reality
it turns to infinite regress
back thirteen billion years
to a point of light before
it was called light of course
before there were words
used by humans or gods
proving for once and all
in the beginning was a non
sequitur it didn’t really go
down in such an unfashioned
it was much more humble
and quiet you would hardly
notice in fact it made no sound
unlike the anachronism
enacted by our breaths
in mobile pendulum stream
believe me if you were there
you wouldn’t believe your eyes
not that there were eyes
then or beginnings or ends
just a solid sign sighing
and yes I said yes I will Yes

Coal Dust Bowl

2010-06-15T23:52:00.001-04:00

In places where the landscape
bears traces of upheaval rather
than renewal the house siding
is laced with coal dust
the overgrowth retains texture
of perpetual winter although
the sun continues its disintegration
on this long late spring day
the forecast didn’t predict this
warmth but it increases
as the hours wear on
looking for something to
photosynthesize at some point
if you keep digging you get to
the center of the earth
and come out the other side
where the sun isn’t shining
at least not at this moment
but there are no privileged
frames of reference there’s just
the sense that this way of life
is unsustainable that soon
there will be no earth left
to dig up the seeds will scatter
on fallow ground which is
another way of saying
that nothing will grow
here ever again anymore
until the light finds home

Last Night's Dreams

2010-06-14T17:09:00.001-04:00

All day the fabric of my thought
has been suffused with last night’s dreams
just enough to remember emotion or image
not enough to recall narrative or sequence
so I propose in my near waking state
that this is what the previous life
or the next life should wind up being
a shift between consciousness with
no information passing between the cusps
except for the premonition of existence
just as a glance puts you in the perspective
of one approximating an open window
the leaf upturned awaiting the storm
the humidity thick with anticipation
on another world there are oceans underground
plumes of spray exalting through the crust
I take it in as I take in this memory
of what I was going to say were I not
interrupted by what I want to remember
as last night’s dreams of waking life
but the moment has passed and becomes

The Myth of Objectivity

2010-06-13T23:46:00.001-04:00

The thing that causes you to see
would deliver you blind
if it had its own way with you.

The idea of not being able to see
god probably came from the sun
but it’s much simpler than that.

You need to go below the surface
if failing to strike the source
keep digging until you get there.

I can’t tell you how to get there
you have to find it yourself
through rigid self-controlled discipline.

Everything you learn becomes chalk dust
coats everything in a veneer called things
only dish detergent will get it out.

Even then it’s a close run thing
the odds aren’t likely to improve
the face washing onto the shore is your own.

Dist.

2010-05-27T16:32:00.001-04:00

In all likelihood
the several dis-
concrete elements

will be pulled together
in sound of discord
shuffled off by

pressure distinct
incontrovertible
the mandible aghast

in midst of distemper
tempting the flood
of consonants

deliberate obfuscation
permitting the dis-
tourist direction

toward the unmediated
path through labyrinth
distended unalloyed

with gates swinging
wildly in the wind
district of riven seeds

planted in breeze
dismembered until
remembered then

unspoken disabled.

Ventriloquist Cowboy Hat

2010-04-22T22:36:00.000-04:00

When spring arrives in Binghamton
mid-summer

the grad students flee and run
frisbees

in the street, shouting avoiding
CARS

after dining Thai Thai or Taste Of
vindaloo

ghosted, dessert ice cream
Flavorburst

at sunset, brick walls decorated with
bubble tea

to fulminate the digester,
inebriate

asylum abandoned but not
forgotten,

they circle the building and follow
the lights

back to the rhythm of the living
town

the carousel spinning still in walking
distance.

Foliage

2010-04-14T23:04:00.000-04:00

I have decided after
a long day of driving
through the South
into Spring
that if Earth were
ever visited by beings
from another world
they will be far more
interested in the trees.

Illimitable

2010-04-06T16:19:00.000-04:00

I miss the simple things.
The way the moon was formed
from a planetary collision,

for instance. But that’s
just a theory, as good as
any other theory, if we’re

discounting the fact that no
theory holds up to scrutiny,
unless it’s not a theory.

I have a theory of poetry,
it is a statement without theory.
That is why there is no poetry.

There is only the moment
when the season becomes inevitable,
and long slumber succumbs

to the instant you recognize
the sky as your home, or
at least the place you come from,

if not the eternity you’re returning towards.

Spring Song, Late

2010-04-05T00:01:00.000-04:00

Repetition is the elixir.
Past is prologue to a never
ending series of prologues,

the way the light bends
around time, inescapable
as equations, so set to rhythm

as two is to four.
Indiscriminate yearning,
the flower for the bee,

the loaf of the flour
finds disconnections inherent
and lacking, so simple yet

inelegant. The way the mind
bends into a furrow,
together unyielding cycles,

spokes as yet unheard of,
real echo in the distant canyon.
A mask is the best decision.

Repetition is the flower.

One Liners

2010-04-04T19:07:00.000-04:00

The world is a beautiful place
sometimes, not all the time.

So the latest theory states
that information is the primary component
of the universe.
That's the kind of thing I'd forget if it was on the test.

All things must pass,
but only in passing.

There might be more than one way
to skin a cat,
but neither of them
are very effective.

If you don't know where you're going,
you're already there.

I sometimes get the feeling of deja vu,
when I've seen something already.

It's strange to think how
we all inhabit the same globe,
when so many out there seem so empty.
You wonder if they refused the company.

I am not now nor ever have been
a poet.
Can't you take a hint?

Only Earth

2010-04-03T00:01:00.000-04:00

If there is
only earth

then time is
a material object

and just as
susceptible

to decay
as any other

figment of creation
such as

the sound you make
when you rise

and realize
where you fell asleep

the night before.

Waiting

2010-04-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

And if the disconnect
perpetuates gladness
be circumspect

in your demeanor
press a flower
to your forehead

in protest of the motion
of the spheres
take a drag

off the immortal
mortal coil
and say I have been

here before I knew
where I was in this
place and time not

for the timid or to
recognize what
ever was or will be

but to say o taste
and see there is a door
ineluctably unlocked

there is a stone
to be rolled away
but now is not the

face swathed
with tears or with
misunderstanding or else

there is awaken
in the drowsy catastrophe
that awaits you

in the moment between
what is not and what is
wait and see

how they love each other.

Poem

2010-04-01T00:01:00.001-04:00

This will be old someday
when it is
reprinted you shall

not use one consistent
font but rather
let each letter

lie beside one
another incoherent
mosaically

unmusical trestle
be unkempt in
the neck of your desire

be thou with me
mystery when
the last note is

written anew.

Why It's There

2009-05-05T15:47:00.003-04:00

The little plastic doohickey
        on the opposite side
                of the eject button
is like the drawer
        that is not a drawer
                under the sink.
It has no function.
        It is not a button.
                It exists merely
for symmetry.
        That's why it's there!
                That's the only reason
why it's there!

Painted

2009-04-25T01:01:00.001-04:00

You were there
        with what can
                only be described
as indescribable
        but that doesn’t
                come close to
describing it
        so I’ll start
                again without
letting you in
        on the secret
                which is how
we let go
        without letting go
                without peeking
through the slats
        in the fence
                or getting the paint
in our eyes.

I Said Not

2009-04-25T00:58:00.001-04:00

Not as you were
        but as you’ve been
                or as you will have
going to be
        not as you saw
                but as you’ve seen
or as you will have
        going to see
                not as you bend
but as you’ve beamed
        or as you will have
                going to bleed
not as you send
        but as you’ve seamed
                or as you will have
going to save.

Like I Said

2009-04-25T00:55:00.000-04:00

Like I said
        it’s all in the
                reckoning
in the way
        your eyes close
                at the thought
of a key unturned
        by the mantlepiece
                brought down
through fire of
        unknown origin
                swept away
between the barren
        unknowable spaces
                that drift
to where you can’t
        remember
                the last time
you opened your eyes
        or if you did
                when they made
a sound.

The New Buildings

2009-04-25T00:52:00.001-04:00

And there were other
        words left unspoken
                but we were young then
and knew there would be time
        before the paint peeled
                back from the bricks
and we could see the seedy
        underbelly of the building
                the way it was
when it was new before
        it was old and then
                we would see the way
our predecessors saw
        if not through their own eyes
                then through the ghost
of an eye woven as it were
        with the impenetrable
                sound of aghast
at the sight of buildings
        being erected
                before they were new.

Toxic Assets

2009-04-25T00:47:00.000-04:00

My toxic assets
        have been building up
                for so long
I didn’t even get a chance
        to meet them
                when they came
around the mountain
        by chance
                just to say hello
before I fell down in a field
        smitten with underbrush
                and the drowsy way
I stay disconnected from things
        by touching the thin air
                that follows me
through the radio
        and willows unnamed
                beside a roaring stream
that empties into a gorge
        no one has fallen into
                by this century
because they put up a fence
        made of styrofoam egg crates
                to hold back
the torrential parade of wolves
        quickening to a pulse
                beside the white chickens.

Big Edie Replies

2009-04-20T00:30:00.000-04:00

The cat’s going
        to the bathroom
                right right in back
of my portrait.
        God, isn’t that awful?
                No, I’m glad he is.
I’m glad somebody’s
        doing something
                he wanted to do.
You can’t have your cake
        and eat it too, in life.
                Oh yes, I did.
I did, I had my cake,
        loved it,
                masticated it,
chewed it and had
        everything I wanted.
                Aren’t you going
to feed, uh, Whiskers, Edie?
        Come on, go feed
                Whiskers. No, don’t
eat it. Give it
        to Whiskers, please!
                My body is a very
precious place.
        It’s concentrated ground.
                It is a beautiful ocean
today, isn’t it? What
        would you say that is,
                sort of sapphire?
I’ve never seen anything
        like that ocean!
                Always must do
everything correctly!
        He always compliments
                me on the way
I do my corn.
        Where in the hell
                did you come from?
Thank you for your card
        and your ice-cream,
                I love you very much!
Will you shut up?
        It’s a goddamn
                beautiful day,
shut up!

Beginning with Little Edie

2009-04-18T23:09:00.000-04:00

It’s very difficult
        to keep the line
                between the past
and the present,
        awfully difficult.
                Just as impossible
to translate the words
        from your head
                onto paper, or
worse a screen.
        It’s not the faces
                I see that give
me grief, it’s more
        the fact I’ll never
                see them again,
at least not with
        these senses, for
                the next minute
I become the medium
        through which all
                experience is
filtered. I wasn’t born
        with this faculty,
                it just came to me
as in a dream.
        I don’t know what
                I’ll call it.
Perhaps it doesn’t need a name.

Today

2009-04-17T02:07:00.000-04:00

I remember the day
        as if it were
                yesterday
of course it was
        yesterday
                at some point
immediately
        following
                its taking place
but I can’t remember
        that day
                the one following
the day I remember
        as if it were
                yesterday
probably because
        it wasn’t as memorable
                as if it were
yesterday
        but that is a result
                of its proximity
to such a memorable day
        as the one
                I’m thinking of
at the moment
        although it escapes me
                why I brought it up
except to say
        it reminds me
                of yesterday
that is the day
        after the day
                after tomorrow
which I’m sure
        will be as memorable
                as the day
I remember
        as if it were
                yesterday.

First, Impressions

2009-04-16T00:26:00.001-04:00

You came to me
        in what can only
                be described
as a second glance
        and were gone
                before I had
the chance to
        register what
                I was seeing
I looked again
        but it was no
                use there were
too many distractions
        too many buttons
                to hole in
the whole cacophony
        of weather
                we were under
taking for granted
        the whole point
                of what we came
here to do
        and that’s put
                our eyes as close
together
        without touching
                and call it
touching.

Thank You For Your Wonderful Apple

2009-04-16T00:19:00.001-04:00

I suppose everything
        we learn
                is by example
for instance
        I’ve been staring
                at the wall
since I said
        this sentence
                and still
don’t have a thing
        to say. Excuses,
                excuses.
Easy. You take
        the first thought
                that pops
into your head,
        and call it
                what you will.
Then, take a dollop
        of some good
                old fashioned
craft, start
        putting your name
                out there
and hopefully
        something will stick.
                Not that I am
one for self
        promotion or
                anything, but
I hear that’s how
        you get ahead
                in these matters.
You see that
        spaghetti splayed
                all over the wall?
I’m the one who made the plate.

Real Actual

2009-04-15T02:40:00.000-04:00

I decided long ago
        that this wasn’t
                the real world
of actual existence
        the one where people
                talk sleep dream
converse with a thousand
        other people
                just by their presence
or when transplanted
        from one place
                to another
they awake to find
        themselves not
                in the same space
they found themselves
        before. That
                place is what I call
actual existence
        that feeling you get
                having tasted
something familiar
        similar to your tongue
                or having awoken
you decide better
        to fall asleep
                with the air
in your arms
        with the thousands of places
                identifiable
by their lack of eyelids
        by the light straining
                through so you know
it’s morning
        so you know you’re not
                missing anything
if you stay there
        another ten minutes
                or so.

When I Woke

2009-04-15T00:01:00.000-04:00

When I woke
        In the morning
                Ah god
You were there
        To right my face
                You were there
To press my bloom
        Ah god
                You were there
To lift my stone
        You were there
                Ah god
To hold my space
        You were there
                To caw my bones
You were there
        Ah god
                To leave all words
Ah god
        You were there
                When I woke
I was missing
        Ah god
                You were there

This Changing World

2009-04-14T00:41:00.000-04:00

Driving north
        the trees lose
                their small
individual buds
        and if you look
                closely
that is through
        window blur
                it appears that
colors change
        to bare branches
                fingering
the sky but
        don’t lose hope
                for by virtue
of the blur
        it all becomes part
                of the same
hand waving
        you along
                to where
the season
        hasn’t even
                begun yet
but it will and
        you know this
                because
the colors don’t
        evaporate
                or run
they only change.

Unreconstructed

2009-04-13T01:29:00.000-04:00

Unreconstructed
        is how memory
                should stay,
or so says memory
        itself. Did
                you know that
when we remember
        something
                we actually relive
it, and it’s never
        the same way
                twice?
So I can’t remember
        last Easter,
                or the days spent
in the house
        as a toddler
                with my mother,
because I wasn’t
        even there
                until she said it.
But then the flood
        comes back,
                as if I didn’t
even miss it
        until it happened,
                but I was there
in that room,
        eating the same
                lettuce on the plate
as I saw before me
        when I heard
                a memory
I couldn’t have
        been there
                to remember.
But now
        it’s with me
                where it will stay.

Tendency

2009-04-11T23:59:00.000-04:00

You would have to be
        tone deaf
                or at least
misunderstood
        not to notice
                the tendrils
have started their climb
        up the crumbling
                threadbare
brick walls
        that hold up
                a discomforting
edifice. Usually
        it takes another
                week or two
before they become
        observant
                to the naked eye.
But were it not
        for my scarce
                intonation
you would be
        oblivious, still
                clinging
onto the notion
        that buildings
                are susceptible
to decay, without
        intervention
                on the part
of intrusive nature.
        I guess it’s just
                like you to think
our mediocre
        reconstructions
                of the house
first given us
        would not be
                overtaken
by the image
        first in line, that is
                the unspeakable
reference
        to discernible
                diurnal discourse.
If I said
        it was spring,
                would you at least
put down
        those blinders,
                and pretend
you’ve never stepped
        within those walls
                without retreat
to a source
        before the stone
                was rolled back?

Intimate Wilderness

2008-04-30T23:59:00.001-04:00

If there is less than misunderstood
let it come to my lips, quickly
before I back out of the situation
with my hands little more than
instruments at the service of your mercy.
Your eyes are the only thing lost
on both sides of the equation.
If I were a mathematician
I’d take a different hobby for starters.
Not to say you couldn’t count
the number of times our eyes met
with one blink that might have been
a twitch. Anyway you come to mind
like flesh, or a foregrounding in intimate
wilderness, a distilled echo
patiently repeating the heart
at the moment it first encountered you.
But shut up and kiss me you say,
with my tongue in your mouth
so close I can barely get the words out.

Diorama Quatrains

2008-04-30T23:59:00.000-04:00

I spelled out your name
with scissors and cotton,
placed the letters neatly
in diorama fashion, thinking
in ghost quatrains that lulled
me to sleep unconsciously.
I made a tree out of green
crayons and brown crayons,
some of which I had to steal
from the sharpened shavings
settled at the bottom of the box.
Your name started to smell like honey,
the first catastrophic melt of the summer.
It’s for you, this name made
of abandoned skin and fever dreams.
If you take it in your hands
I will never see it again, at least
not with my own eyes, which
I still prefer to the alternative
which is never seeing you again.

Uncertain Of All Save That They Enter

2008-04-29T22:59:00.000-04:00

It escapes me now, the fact
of how far I could go before
turning the page, or settling
on a word to direct my gaze.
You understand I’ve got no bearing
on critical ridicule, or block quotes
masquerading in half italic text
to perpetuate one thought in place
of another. I’m tired of quotes
laden with significance, repeated
from source to source, carefully
plotted and displayed in the back
of the index. I’ve half a mind
to tear out the last twenty pages
of every book in that pile over there
and keep them for myself, as if
I alone could erase every piece
of research that placed us in this
moment, as if the world could be
naked again, if not exactly new.

Hi

2008-04-28T23:59:00.000-04:00

Are you going to see the cock on sunday?
What time does the cock come?
Do you think it will be too crowded to see the cock?
How much cock are you going to buy on sunday?
Will it be really hard to see the cock?
I am super excited about the cock!
Will the audience ever get enough cock?
Will there be enough cock for everyone to share?
Its not that often something this big comes.
We are wet and ready for the cock!
Are you wet & ready for some cock?
We are going to work out so we are ready for cock!
How are you preparing for the cock?
What if the cock does not come?
That would suck. It would even blow.
I just hope the cock isnt too stiff.
If you want to really enjoy cock, you should be wet.
How long is this cock going to be?
I am looking at a lot of cock tonight so I am in the mood tomorrow.
Throbbing cock.
What if he doesnt come and turns out to be a cock tease?
Do you know of any good sites for cock?
How many individuals from the audience can cock handle at one time?
It might be too tight for cock. Its gonna get so big.
I am studying the ins & outs of cock. My diss will be on cock.
I don’t know about you but I don’t only think about cock.
Also—Dickinson, Dickens, Peacock, Balzac, & Pound.

I Pelt You With This Acorn

2008-04-27T19:37:00.000-04:00

The world is full of empty carousels,
rusting. But that’s no reason
to dismiss this merry-go-round
as mere diversion. There are far
worse situations with which
to cross paths. For instance, a breeze
that propels a bicycle to cruise
from one position to another
by sheer force of velocity until
stopped dead in its tracks
by a squirrel who would have pelted
you with an acorn had it the proper
altitude. The branch of that tree,
perhaps. Or the roof above
the sullen carousel. It’s taking
these trees forever to reach blossom.
Soon, I’ll feel uncomfortable sitting
beneath them, when the dome of the sky
becomes irrational and green
and only peeks of light show through.

In Response To Your Question

2008-04-26T23:59:00.000-04:00

I can’t speak for anyone else
but when you asked me a question
I said I’d get back to you. It was
the best I could do, given the circumstances.
I can’t quite remember what they were
but I must have been distracted
by something else, or else I wouldn’t
have said I’d get back to you,
since I knew you usually require
a prompt reply. Besides I am
not given to deliberation, I try
to go on my instincts, to go on
my nerve, since that’s all we have.
Seriously I don’t know what I was thinking.
I mean I had the answer right there.
It was on the proverbial tip of my tongue.
If you wanted a response I should have
just given it to you. But we are where
we are, and that’s where we find ourselves.
What was the question again?

Trying To Describe Your Face

2008-04-25T23:59:00.000-04:00

It’s not as if I had the words
to describe your face. And anyway
spring was far too obvious
and the air was thick with chords.
I sliced my hand open and I didn’t
even know it, so I used it
to my advantage and sucked my wrist
with my lips. If there was a taste
it didn’t remind me of you,
which is probably for the best
since I wasn’t thinking of you,
I was only trying to describe
your face. But as I said I didn’t
have the words, so the endeavor failed.
I started again. And there you have it.
That was when you walked in.
That’s where we left off. Hence,
the blank page. I was just about
to put the pen away for trying
when you suddenly appeared.

The Genius of the She

2008-04-24T23:59:00.000-04:00

She spent years piercing castles
with an empty stare.
She stared at sand waiting
for a conduit to water.
She conducted stars to celebrate
a steady silent symphony.
She understudied characters
to resist learning her lines.
She left her past in dusty books
lined along broken down shelves.
She shared rust as a matter of course
turning a slow spoon on a dime.
She spun dreams in fitful sleep
as sheep straddled an imaginary fence.
She supposed it was hours before
the dawn came to wake her with fingers.
She imagined something was saying
her name because her ears could ring.
She stayed in one place as long as possible
since she remained a single step from everywhere.

You Showed Me

2008-04-23T23:59:00.000-04:00

As for me I’ve been up
too late again, trying
to draw your attention away
from the lateness of the hour
with my icicle dandelion breath
disgruntled by the weather
which is still up for debate
although I haven’t been operational
since you put this splinter
in my eye and called it graceful
there were some unhurried gestures
that are worthy of your face
some undeniable leaf changing
color into bud not unlike the last
time you showed me that eyes
can meet without metaphor
that strands of hair separate
to demonstrate the attraction
here is the shatter in my breast
please make it a window again.

What I Want

2008-04-22T23:59:00.000-04:00

I stayed with my hands
at my sides while you offered
a cold shoulder which didn’t
inhibit anyone’s thirst
although that was your
readymade handi-wipe whip
which didn’t serve the guests
their apportioned amount
of roadside swerving to avoid
the insects splayed across the wind
shield although it was my habit
of mind to offer freight trains
of disgust for the sake
of underhanded compliments
upbraided over the counter
into your willing hands your
co-opted smile resting on
the cold shoulders you offered
as a replacement for whatever
you guessed might be what I wanted.

To The Ground

2008-04-21T23:59:00.000-04:00

Underneath the grass
there is a voice I’ve heard
whisper only occasionally
but long enough to notice
that among the twigs
and stones, roots and branches,
lies an altogether undisturbed
reality unknown to us,
a bridge to a certain recognition
that we are not alone,
that our utterances take shape
in the form of frail bodies
huddled together in the cold dark
of what cannot be seen,
what cannot be touched with human eyes,
but penetrates our existence
with a force that reckons us
to banish the grace from sight,
to only know the turning curve of the earth
when we can see ourselves among the dirt.

At This Hour Of Day

2008-04-20T23:32:00.000-04:00

No one walks this stretch
of pavement, at least not
this hour of day. You can tell
by the uninterrupted shadows
that even if the street
were populated with citizens,
it would be difficult to make
them out. But as I said,
no one walks here. It’s almost
an unwritten rule, although
I am inclined to believe
a conspiracy is transpiring
and if only I knew what everyone
else knew, I’d know better
than to be walking on the pavement
at this hour of day. I’ll walk
faster, but that won’t make
a difference, it only gives the shadows
more of a chance to reclaim what is
rightfully theirs. As if I were there.

Was It Then

2008-04-19T22:28:00.000-04:00

Before we begin let me just.
If you give me a moment I could.
Let’s turn to the thing we said.
No it was after that.
Yes, really. Was there only.
We had it for a second there.
I wasn’t going to. Oh I see.
Yes there might have been.
You mean you haven’t seen.
Oh it was long ago.
No it was after that.
You mean to tell me.
It escaped my frame of reference.
And I wanted to say.
Is this coming to a question.
How do you know. That’s right.
You’ve said that already.
Yes. We’ve established that.
No it was after that.
What do you mean.

I'd Prefer It If You'd Said The Opposite Thing

2008-04-18T23:36:00.000-04:00

Who are you? When did you get
here? Were you here last week?
Did you sign in? Are you English?
Did I piss you off last week?
Because I was told I pissed some
people off last week. Didn’t I
explain this to you yet?
I didn’t? What time is it?
You mean I have to do this again?
Where’s that piece of paper?
You mean you don’t have it either?
That’s a snafu on my part.
Where were we? You just walked in.
Who are you? Alright. We have
a number of options. And I have
to tell you, they’re not all pleasant.
What did you say? Are you the one
I pissed off last week? Okay,
I’m sorry. I can’t be all sweetness
and light. Okay. Here’s the deal.

Get to the Other Side

2008-04-17T23:57:00.000-04:00

I could have kept going.
But there were other cycles
in the sequence. And my strength
has always been invested
in the perpetual alarm of
crosseyed nosehairs, some
irrepressible, and some just
ready to be trimmed. If you let
them grow, before you know it
you’d be overrun with temptations
accounting for the harsh sound
of obsolete vinyl, and the birth
pangs of skateboard existentialists.
They said if you have to choose
to cross the street, it’s already too late.
There was something I wanted to mistake,
but that’s no deliberate anachronism,
more like the feeling you get when
you realize that everything is made of holes
and we can’t even get acquainted with them.

The Quiet One

2008-04-16T23:59:00.000-04:00

I never said I didn’t have
a hero. Only that I am overly
qualified for the mass hysteria
surrounding the unveiling
of bridges or birthday cakes.
I tend to be the quiet one
in the back, wearing a falsetto
or a drumset for a necktie.
And there are other butters
to be bageled, too. For instance,
if x signifies the distance
a train has to travel to get to
point y, then how many licks
does it take to get to the center
of what can only be described
as a circumference gone haywire?
I’m past the perfunctory nature
of digressions passing for clarity.
That’s my hand waving, so you’ll
forgive me for not shaking yours.

Retro Future

2008-04-15T23:13:00.000-04:00

I am in the business
of fragmenting shores
that have already been ruined.
You wouldn’t believe the crap
that passes for epiphany
or ritual these days.
For some absurd prolific reason
there is a preponderance
of excess staining our sheets
and like it or not it’s not going away.
No matter how much detergent
still resides under the kitchen sink.
I’ve searched the index,
there’s no going back, not even
if we claim our end is our beginning.
Somebody left this statue in the road
and until it turns into a pothole
there’s no way I’m swerving around it.
This stuttering reticence
will have to do. So be it.

Even If Not There

2008-04-14T22:50:00.000-04:00

I cannot remember the last time
I first saw your face.
But if I were to guess
it would be the moment
I couldn’t identify your features
or distinguish them from any
other synapse. Even though
you are gone to me now
I hold your absence as I would
any other skirmish of air
or handful of glass that used
to carry our reflection.
Somehow you ask me about
the beginning of religion
and I said that it starts
at the back of the throat
and ends with the lips.
We only hear the vowels between
which distracts us from knowing.
And so we embrace. We touch.