Pushing back time
Holding back his groping hands
Like some drunk frat
Who’s never been
To a gallery or museum,
Who cannot understand
Velvet ropes
Or the damage of a touch.
Category Archives: Pallor
Killing Time
Under the Bridge
How often I threw myself in tears
On the breast of the Chesapeake bay,
Exchanging my saltwater for fresh
The ever impassioned castaway
But the tide always brought me home again
Even when I had other designs,
Those waters washed me clean again
Time after time after time.
I never showed that side to you;
We always bowed to the other.
You recognized the weak in me:
The perfect mate and mother.
You quoted Kinder, Küche, Kirche,
As you prepared to take my life,
But my docility stood a constructed facade
As I refused to be your wife.
But you came by your oppression honestly
So I never wished you harm.
There was, underneath your tyranny,
Rays of childlike charm.
In what you loved, you showed delight
With a smile spread ear to ear,
And I mostly enjoyed our merry dance
Until you pulled too near.
Alone, I must have found you,
And alone is ever excising
But I’ve heard of all your accomplishments;
Your star seemed ever rising.
You loved our virgin state
For the dignity of her past,
And the grandeur of her beauty.
You were ever holding fast.
You’ve thrown yourself off a bridge,
Dying as every falling star.
I cannot stand in judgment,
Remembering where my own bridges are
And knowing what it takes to stand
On the edge of all you’ve ever known
The courage it takes to make goodbyes
And courage, you’ve always shown.
I will not ask you why, or say you are laid waste,
But I will honor you, old friend.
I only wish you had come home
To make your final end
Where the water flows in kindness,
And may have cradled you to her breast
To lift your head, to wash you clean,
To bring you home to rest.
Ajar
How long you’ve been gone.
Your shadow’s broken vows
Swept aside as I
Played house.
I planted wildflowers in pairs
In the earth by the gate
I trimmed the little table
With a bit of found lace.
I opened the windows
To air out my rooms,
And met gentle breezes
And cheery bird tunes.
You stayed gone.
This trip longer than last,
I grew more brazen
In my care-taking tasks.
I repainted a room.
I heard what you might say
Chattering as though
You had not gone away,
But the color was bright
And covered the stains
That announced you were here
While they remained
I painted over
The great obscenity.
I settled into your absence
Like a deep anonymity.
A jarring sound,
The familiar crack
Of door to frame
Of fist to back
A blacksmith pounding
On my mettle
While I observe
Faded paint and fallen petals.
My Love
We’ve weathered new roads,
And old habits
Somehow coming through
Clean of the savage
We staked ourselves
In each other’s good,
Planting childlike loyalty
Wherever we stood.
We built years,
Brick by brick, day by day
With repetitive kindness,
And the ability to stay.
We mangled our road;
I couldn’t share you
You forgot me
Drunk on the new.
I have loved you
Your silent surface of sea
Covering your tumult
And your peace.
I’ve held too tightly,
And shoved too hard
Desperate to grasp you
Alone and unguarded.
I’ve been a savage;
Sabotaging our clasped hands
For the hope of embrace
To sate my demands.
I’ve been afraid
Our hearts would wander
Where the other could not follow
Our years abandoned and squandered.
I’ve been wrong;
Hastening the end of night,
Impatiently breaking in
Where I wasn’t invited
You weren’t there
To set me right.
Bolstered
It has been a long winter.
The dried and dead hide in our burrows
All iced over with the frosty fingers
Scratching thoroughly
Through and between us.
Now winter is dying.
Our long, cold bones are thawing,
And the ice that ossified us
Washes by us into the gnawing grave
Taking our strength with it.
Insolvent
I have intended to live open-handed
My relaxed spine saluting heaven
And bowing low to no man.
Clutching no sorrow, no regret, no horror
Longer than a snowflake on an extended palm:
A thing I shan’t own- a thing to borrow.
Time is haggard, a poor braggart
Incurring debts he cannot cover,
Ever gambling as he staggers on.
The world is in arrears and cannot repay
Hope for fear, love for hate, or youth for the years
It has squandered away.
Maggots of Sin
The depth in years of these sorrows
Brim up behind my eyes
But they will not spill in quantities
To cleanse what I despise.
I wonder how numerous the lies
Hiding under wet stones
Along the path of our timeline
We walked together; we walk alone.
In what else I could not condone,
Could you not refrain?
And when these stones are overturned
What else can still remain?
Our Native Land
How I yearn for lightness,
The unflinching faith
That lifts the unblemished face
To smile at the fists of time.
I recall laughter
Bubbling from deep soul,
Nothing to dampen, nor console
Boundless joy.
My days got old.
My thoughts, so heavy,
Watch children skip steady
On feet of hope and wonder.
I am atrophied
Or else I would sing,
Dance, lose everything
To skip in lightness again.
Othello’s Song
Have I been chased by shadows?
Bad omens dressed in grown men’s gowns
Have I known this way leads down
Into the unbreachable flow
Of madness and loss?
I grip my love, forced to stay
I allow no slip beyond my span,
It cannot breathe outside my hand,
And therefore can’t betray,
But, oh my love, the cost!
Harpers Ferry
Suspended on the rock face,
Forever dripping to the ground
Waterfalls cascaded in static pace
Lingering on soundless
While the men behind their barbecues
Pink fingers protruding from crisp gloves,
Knock snow from their white, tented roofs
In the smoke flailing and floating above
And down below sits the drink
Whitecaps turned to icecaps
On the rocks, on the brink
Of one immense nightcap.
Something old, something new,
And the rest caught betwixt
Frozen still, and frozen through
Forever fixed
Inside a motionless, wintry mix.
viewingcamelot 