the hidden codes of leopards a sound this wide eyelash flickering in the dark i could see her by doors almost leaving after having left polaroid fascination afterimage shocking retinas into a frenzy half done half kiss wet and falling tears into gravel and bruised gumlines of teeth if only so clear of it, so clear of it all.
Monthly Archives: June 2008
beauty, patience & grace
not dreaming, all surreal, eyes open to this state, near panic. children amok, little time, little caring, dig deep. kindness there, selflessness there, learn from her. beauty, patience, grace. have none of it, no need for it. all grip, all jagged, all bone splinter. but to yearn, to learn to yearn, to learn how, be beauty, patience and grace. impossible but for the desire.
husks of bones
running hands. running hands with scissors clipping open clumps of hair from foreskins. hung from bare trees out in desolate fields like all cliches promised of murder with a stern and undeniable hate. unspeakable finger-paint. and there, and there, the tongues, dry into muddy water, choking. you dreamt this and made me sick with it. made me a part of it. like crushed wheat underfoot. like husks of bones sucked dry.
what was yesterday
what was yesterday? something gone, just there, beyond the sight line. perspective shift, we were all there, one moment until another. like rinds before they sour in the sun, basking heat. break down. it all comes to breaking down the constituent parts, the constituents. we laughed at that, by the fire, by the shore, by the curb. she grabbed hold of her hair and tied it in a such a way that was improbable if not for the moon. shiny, pock-marked, ultimately marooned. something blue and wilted, tinge of green, promise never to forget. was it yesterday?
hide all the stains
something like the teeth being jarred loose, an impressive force of will that shatters the jaw, leaves your mouth agape. how could you do this, biting oh so lovingly, like a bird picking a a worm or was that the wound. twice as much but painful slow. the seepage into everywhere else, dark rooms with invisible corners and even shakier walls. curtains, he said, we need curtains to hide all the stains.
let it come
how do you dream this? heat and sweat, sticky: you can never be clean enough. close all the windows, bring out the air conditioners: just barely enough. go to a friend’s house, wade in the pool, set aside your embarrassment, reassure your daughter, introduce your son to the water, admire your wife. ease into this, ease into your age. there is wisdom there, there is comfort, let it come. let it come.
not bad at all
these tired bones, this thick skin. you can train it again, bring it back to breathing. out in the sun, the heat, a joy ride to the park. purely selfish reasons. i wanted to get back to the handball courts again. last time i was winded, trounced by a child half my age. i wanted a rematch, i wanted to flex my muscles, loosen my limbs. an hour until someone else came. one hour of volleys and serves and running after a little green rubber ball i could barely catch. then someone else came, three kids. i offered a one on one, they countered with doubles. i warned them of my age, the years since i played. not a problem. we won the first, 11-9. continued that one to 21 and won that as well, 21-14. they wanted another rematch which we lost, 11-9. not bad old man, not bad at all
stupid, stupid
sometimes i become so enraged over nothing but i can’t stand to remain dumbfounded: these kids were in a car, with two on the outside, one with a camera while the other was running up to each door and banging on it. i came out and yelled at them and it didn’t matter to the two on the outside, the girl was actually laughing, but one of the kids in the car started apologizing, saying that it was “for school.” after about five minutes, i jumped in the car and went prowling for them, doing some stupid maneuvers (like making a left turn from the right most lane) when i thought i saw another car with a kid holding a camera out the window. i don’t know what i had in mind, most likely to grab the camera and smash it. stupid, stupid, i know, i know.
after all the rest
my daughter picks dandelions and makes wishes while i sleep a deep slumber very much like death. the head clouds, my son babbles and razzes and gives off a tiny growl. annoyed, my love bares barbed wire that snares and catches us all. one moment after all others, all i want is one singularity after all the rest.
love thorn
the breaking apart, the fracture, it becomes so easy. the rust, the chewing of it, bleeding gums, tin man, oily residue, the kind of grit that makes the breaks squeal. you squeal. on a spit. over a spit. here we were wondering. and it all came down to thorns, oh how you loved the thorns.