Poetry Ch. 2

#22

why
is your question

and who are you
to say i’ve no longer
kept the wind
in my back pocket

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chocolate mint coffee and a gardenia

20 years
I’ve been talking
to you
17 since it was
live
guess I’ll be doing
this until the day I
die
the whole time wishing
you were able to
hear me

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dusk

wait
a lengthy journey it is
as the dark
consumes the days
light
with flowers aglow
and clouds padding
visions of the sky
wait
for a moment
there it’s finished
the moths have
arrived for
supplication
and dance
in the
soft nether-world
sounds of
night
good night
day light

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february 25th

a light dusting of snow
white
a slight fading of light
fog
wispy yellow gray clouds
hover above the rising
dawn
awakening the
meadowlark
bring the coyote
home

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home revisited

I did not come to intrude for
I have learned what love is
and which paradise is lost
I stake no claims of time and
there are no obligations implied
I did not come to address
these generals presented before me
brought from other theaters of war
who’s concerns are for other men
who march towards their own
rewards and disasters
I come to solidify
to view the oak leaf and song bird
to walk the foot path of crushed granite
among boulder and stone sprinkled with moss
in search of the valley of the moon
where the stars of Odin are the only light
where the composites of a blade of grass
turn inside out causing the universe to open
to be laid out in the valley of the moon
with eyes closed dressed in white satin
and slippers of purple velvet

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nurse oh nurse

nurse brilliant called me on the phone the other day
to tell me of the white dress she would wear
the next time she would see me
a little something to cheer me up she said
my fantasy factory went into over-time shifts
working out the details of the pattern of that dress
the door bell rang telling me someone was there
why nurse brilliant you look great in white
a hoop skirt and shiny stockings
surely you would drive any man crazy
with those legs flashing
yes but
like most things that come in from the outside
look don’t touch
these things aren’t for you boy
all these up-scale things you see advertised
in those magazines and on the television screen
when you live in an isolation tank
and depravation has leaked out from sleep
into all the other functions of life
all those things from the outside become a fantasy
material for the factory that never closes down
or moves to mexico for cheap labor
guess I’ll get a little job sweeping up trash
to supplement my government check
find someone that wears satin and lace to bed
find someone who needs a pretender
find someone who wants to rest
beside someone beside a stream within a dream
where we would have everything we would need
soft smooth skin to touch
food to eat
cigarettes to smoke after having sex
gasoline to get out of town
and shelter from the storm
the storm that rages outside the door
the one thats telling us we need so much more
than what we have

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on bended knee

let us invoke
from the gods
their songs of power
thunder from the heart
to strike light among us
once again
for we are
lost in the darkness of time
and the futures sun has
yet to shine upon this land
asleep we have been
covered in mosses and moisture
with false springs and bare roots
come
let us invoke a morning song
from the throats of the gods
that we must invent
those that will express their power
in a bolt
of hot juice from the sky

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rodeo drive

sorry miss
said the man while leaning on the counter
i just can’t fill that order
we don’t stock those items
on your shelves
never have never will
silently she walked away
continuing to window shop
down the street
for something she had seen
in a magazine
or was it a movie
she couldn’t quite remember
maybe it had been a dream
she’d had when she was young
but it was something she
just had to have
she had seen it before
somewhere

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thinking on quicksand

it runs through my fingers and hands as
sand would it is suppose to be as hard
and as dazzling bright as diamonds as
soft and faithful as a rose petal but
it gathers not in my palm it is never
contained so easily nor seen often
enough from where I stand or sit this
fate I share with so many I read and
consume pages of the past where others
have chronicled their efforts of
mistaken paths and halfway measures
this destiny of thinking it is readily
available only to stay elusive and foggy
has brought me closer to dim
abstractions so it must change during
the night while dreaming and when I rise
at daybreak I see otherwise more today
than yesterday but clearly less clear
is this to be the nature of the truth then

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you say one day I’ll be like you

what is to be the defence against
armies of rumor and legions of innuendo
who will become defeated by
the eyes of saber and lance
through the heart
words of cannon shot and bullet
through the brain
is the adversary human during battle
do we remain humane
as we adorn ourselves with armor
surrounding our idea of
the ideal human
what is it that we become
when vanity and pride
makes us righteous of the self