New Poems 2013

Saturn’s Child

Last night I was orbiting Betelgeuse

As time flashed-out

With worlds blacked-out

And the backstreets of your heaven

cornered love,

Orion hovering in the opposite sky

Waiting for the kill order.

 

Last night Betelgeuse

Sang and throbbed

Just like me.

 

Tonight, a low, ochre

Crescent moon sliver dully

Pointed horns up

In night’s concave simulacrum of the soul,

As the vicious headache pounded

In my sick veins

And the Hollywood dream

Vibrated alternative futures

Beyond the Gates of Babylon

On an ancient stage…

 

 

4:32 AM

 

A mean feeling crawls through my hallways,

But starlight might just fill my fey cathedral

And light all my candles in this witching hour.

Trivia masquerades as importance in the dry

Harbors of practiced obsolescence, and

This sun-freeze, sun-freeze see-saw shades

My own vacillations, where doubt’s archipelago trembles.

I will scratch my poems on ancient maps and burnish

My shroud with their afterimages.

New York or L.A. – which circus louder calls me?

Pig glamour or Gotterdammerung angst-riot trials?

Addled breath fills spongy bronchial trees with a

Soft, tidal sound that haunts my future self with bizarre scenes.

Sepulcher of an accordioned blood-engine at end

Of dark streets where Arctic apexes coronate,

And the pale, ghostly face with grey eyes adorns

The spectral tome absorbed with phantom alacrity.

Hail, satiety! Kitchens of forgotten love cook on

By themselves, and frozen seas shrug.

 

Morrowing, Still

 

I feel tonight like my mother probably felt

In her own sleepless hours

With nothing to chew on but time –

The heart beating endlessly in the void.

We night owls stick together, even beyond

Death’s veils, giving birth to each other,

Touching through time,

Where the great mysteries unsolved fly.

And I can hear my mother chewing ennui

To the bone in the late kitchens of doubt,

Where sleep is a lost ideal

And the world has forgotten itself.

Tonight, I am chewing entropy to the quick:

Sunflower seed symphony,

Ginger cookie overdose,

And satiety snaps her fingers

As I do the witching hour waltz

With the sneering wolf at the door.

 

Bright deserts asleep

Cry for truth but drown in lies

Where they might drown in beauty (but those stars died).

The empty-hearted wait at the tyrant-light…

Is this really my life?

The aging eye wanders into dark seas of pride –

The young man lingers in a scherzo of autonomic

Certitude & shared horrors dine

Where the menu is as unlikely a collage as

The millionth monkey’s newest lines!

 

The bowsprits ache for new swells,

Then curse them, habituated by seamen

Of fantastic frills and abandon,

Who gave their wings to the sea.

Where bright deviance strives

In the brutal heart of night

To re-trace love, but one returns

To the primal urge that conceived our life.

 

The bougainvillea have died, along with right sense,

Joined in the graveyard of ancient symphonies

With heroes spun in spectral magic,

But this bright deviance bids

Sere galactors call the song,

As the noble crotch of earth

Flash-freezes promised love.

 

 

Born From a Passage by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

For the image of the pitiful child,
Now this world, novel, blows in –
For the strafing of the friable mind,
Archives of a mothballed life –
Each heart expecting
With eyes.

Each decade of the laughing eyes
Grows with longing, sailing time;
Ocean full of fish eyes
Pooled, outsized. No regret
For YOUR slippery future.

 

 

 

 

The brave bird                                                                 4.16.13

Oh so brave stood his branch

And the devil came

He liked his song so much

He showed up and showed off

And how bright the path she lay

Where the old man is fishin’

And those who have the gold make the rules

(but you can break them)

And they also make the wars

(But you can unmake them.)

Oh brave bird, stand your ground!

Hold fast that Spring thread to your breast

For she comes like a secret swan now

Burns like the most elegant star

And I want to love her as completely

As a man can.

 

I’m lost – forever flowering

In the romantic fantasy,

In the windy reverie –

Where even now she fills me,

This coup de grace

The wine of ancient dreams

Poured into our loving cup.

And we have only started

On this dark stage –

We have sung songs and traded

Looks and desires, wholly conspired

To be the first hearts joined

On the galactic promenade

Of a new race.

 

My Cleopatra of the Grapevine

My Helen of the sung line

My Aphrodite sweet unspoiled…

Another brave bird your prim face smiles

On neck of unparalleled grace…

How I long to see you in the night

And feel the bright star smile on all our mornings!

 

 

I’m a curio in the sun                                                     4.22.13

On porches of this garden whimsy:

“what will I be?”

a floating out beyond everyday misery,

only life bandied and flown,

walked through

when too much time

has cracked the yards of stability

when what we were

or have accepted as the world

has vanished into Mouth-of-Chaos

there will be only the divine impulse

in the animal garden

for your feathers of fire to dance in.

 

 

Hung like a horseman of the apocalypse.

 

The war in heaven

spits its casualties onto NY pavement

& the brothels of the world

& the brightest temples

where forked tongues

speak soothing words

& the dust betrays us

& confused children dream

& she looks for the man

whose loins are the burning bush

of late prophecy:

the libido of Ezekiel,

the Brahman of Moses,

where Gabriel descends across

a scar of somedays all lit up

like Sodom

and she disappears into an

African storm,

and the whore of time carries any

who want to ride this beast

who hangs like a bat

a fat rat in the Bowery

or Venice

and clouds one’s happy wasted afternoons

with an apostrophe of vengeance.

 

 

 

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