POETRY, Uncategorized

Words and phrases

Watered shattered
Battered
Time glaring under the ocean
Devouring
Pages of water,
Time became speed
Effervescent colors crossed the water
Rain drops—cruel drops
Slumbering clarity
Perverse love

While you were fooling around
I was falling in love

Murmur of waves breaking

Fugitive words

My sad tenderness

Even your breasts smell of it.

How you must of suffered getting accustomed to me.

My savage solitary heart or soul.

I loved her, sometimes she loved me

The dead are drawn to sound

I don’t know, I’m ignorant, I can hardly see.

POETRY, Uncategorized

Words poem 3

Words are not my friends
They trick me into thinking, I understand.
Then she goes and changes the meanings.
Why did she have to go and do that?
Each word:
a single match, burning solo.
Each time repeated,
rewritten
changes meaning,
leaving a slight hint of sulfur.

Words are not my friends
They expose.
They are cruel,
frightening
tear,
and without reason they cause me to care,
to love
then turn right back around
and cut.
 
Words are not my friends.
So don’t speak, my love.
Don’t tell me you love me.
Or that, it’s just your love is different than mine.
Don’t say a thing
Don’t try to explain.
Dragging out all those memories
and souvenirs.
Just turn around;
walk away.

 

Uncategorized

Dream image 18nov17

‘we’ve known each other for a long time now.

-yes we have? He replied as he was driving them to work.

– Don’t make a joke out of us.

He glanced at her. her eyes. 

He quickly turned his attention to the car in front of them

As He saw the red of their tail likes come on.

-no I don’t think I will.

Pulled the car off at the next street.

It was some subdivision.

Stopped in front of somebody’s mailbox.

Leaned over 

And kissed her.

(I know I have strange dreams.

first the one about white face boy and now this one. 

I was the he, the  scene before the kiss scene was 

Some joke he/I had with a friend in front of the house

While she was walking up.To get in the car.

There was a flash to a telephone screen.

There were single words that popped up

Like I guess text messages.

The last word is the only one I remember. Fixable.

Her face was blurry. But I know she had brunette hair.)

Uncategorized

Marta [2001]

1
This time when Marta awoke
Wolf hadn’t even gone to sleep
the lamp in the corner etched the room in a dim shadow.
The whole thing, the metal cage,
the bright lights through the windows
the concrete slabs and pillars
the confusing smiles
a trace of a woman’s scent lingered.
and yet all was not right
the land was wrong
Wolf was not home.
The plants, the lamps,
the books,
an alien scent was about.
Wolf tried to remember last night;
but he could narrowly remember
the smell of perfume filling his nostrils
his legs throbbed
and his first instinct
the one which had saved him so many times before
poked around the nerves in his brain
RUN.
He gathered up his legs
and ran out of the room down the hall
and outside
the lock clicking shut the door
Wolf suddenly realized he had been asleep
and found himself locked outside in this underwear.
All he had to do was buzz Emilio.

2

Wolf has a big problem,
He realizes
as he foggingly quests for Emilio’s Magic 3
As he stares at the numbers
and the buzzers above them.
They are not familiar.
He didn’t know which room he had come from
nor even where he was in the city;
or to make matters worse,
he was beginning to doubt he was even in the city.
The air about him was different,
the smells more stall, tart.
The season was wrong.
it was cold.
He remembers warmth.
Was that even Marta shaking the room.
Where was he now?
How did he get there?
How would he get his clothes,
so these people would quit staring at him?

Wolf’s instincts scrambled to attention.
The chemical’s were still in his blood,
as he tried to get a fix on his position.
There were no trees
as the grey smog clouds tumbled from the sky.
His eyes gritty.

Suddenly the door clicked.
A woman’s face came in out of focus through the dirty glass of the
door.
She opened the door all the way,
her eyes met Wolf’s,
she smiled “Wolf, get inside.”
the voice was familiar though it sounded wrong
as if it was put through a Flanger,
or a chorus.

He remained statuesque.
“Silly man, get inside before you catch a cold,
and then give it to me.”
She reached out takes him by the hand and pulls him to her.
The lips, the teeth, the tongue
were all narrowly fitting,
‘can’t turn away a beautiful woman in her robe,
and has your clothes.”

Wolf followed her back into the room. 27
He remembered to look this time
better remember it just In case.

Uncategorized

To be dead

To be dead is the hardest,
the saddest of all states.
To be dead
is to be without love,
without attachments,
habits, tastes, desires, angers,
convictions,
without thoughts,
without feelings.
To be dead,
is to have no one to hold you,
no one to push you away.
To be dead,
is to be drenched in mud
hurling yourself into grief.
To be dead,
unable and unwilling to bind back your fear,
A bare volcanic island quarreling with the sea.
The intersection of the known and unknown,
of being and nonbeing;
something begins only where nothing ends.
To be dead is the hardest.