I’m curious, the truth behindWhat’s seen and what’s real —I wonder if we’ll be movedWhen all’s at last revealed; To think, the little hills upon whichWe stand with vigor and fight —That what we see as vital, could be(For weighty matters) rather light. I anticipate a shock whenThe vail lifts from my face;As I chime…
Category: Poems
Gaslight
Your eyes, they darkenUnder the gaslight.The shadows danceAcross your lips.“Truth,” they say, butThe room whispers lie;“Day,” they say, butI swear it’s night. After all this time,Somehow dark is lightTo my adjusted eye;Right is not, andWrong is right. I start to speak,But your shadowSwallows the raysUpon my lips.And there you stand — youBetween the flame and…
Language
A phrase in one, no sense in another;By a graceful tongue, foreign ears shudder. Avec origine pas jeune, mais oui pour une autre;Un douce chanson, ou une forte morsure. Son misterios ya, revelados solo con rigor;Veces imitados por ruido, como el sol que abre la flor. Se lasciato nel sfondo, ammuffito l’oro;Se davanti la pongo,…
Idyll
I know these woods–They raised me.I feel the dry mossOn my fingertips as IBrush the rock’s face.I feel it as if caressingThe face of one I love.The rock is coldAnd the air still, onlyBroken by the soundOf falling limbs; the limbsOf oak and ash and elm.My old friends. Hello again.I drink your breathAnd it invigorates…
Double Death
A life poorly-lived,And then its end.What is the differenceBetween the two?Monotony is death,Slow and numb.Potential unfulfilled,Is death too,Cold and irretrievable.But a life well-lived—Well, there it is. November 17, 2021
Siren
Water like wind against my skin, my scales.I glide with each flip, each flicker; My tail,Long and waving like seagrass in soft current.I drink deep the salt around me; the saltThat moves in curls and swirls around my face,Between my fingers and fluttering fins.I slow, then stop to float. My hair lifts and spins about.The…
Bitter
Bitter the sound. Bitter the sight. Bitter the taste and touch. Bitter the world. Bitter the night. Bitter the broken and the best. Bitter then, bitter now. Bitter the lonely life and death. Perhaps instead, Let us look, listen, and let. Let us be the letters, That make bitter better As dawn makes darkness light….
To W. Whitman
Whitman, you heard the rain as I hear it now,Did you not?I lay and I listen,And I think of you—I think of how you thought of me;How you listened to the wavesLap against the ferry as you crossed that dayIn Brooklyn;How you felt the sea mist against your skin,And the sun upon your face.I feel…
For My Niece on the Day After Her Birth
A new line has emergedOn this canvas of life;Been etched into the slateOf existence. Of all the linesThat have appeared before —Of the borders, barricades, and bounds —This line transcends them. I see it as Lily Briscoe’s final touch;Yet rather than birthed from mortal hands and eyes,It was (it always was) a vision divine. In…
Ideal
“You’re so good,” they told her.“A perfect example of goodness and grace—A role model people can look up to.”And with this message, she staked her flag,Mapped out the house, drew the borders,Carved out the earth, laid the foundation,And built the home—One false brick after the other,Each fashioned through willful labor and toil;Each infused with doubt…