For you alone my mouth is filled with words
for you alone my mind's aflood with thought
my tree desires nothing but your birds
whose music is my happiness the naught
that winter brings (when birds & flowers flee)
the absence now occasioned by the cold --
this principally brings no concern to me
except to the degree it serves to hold
your absence implicated in this closing
your silence in the swirl of all this dark --
as if you too were subject to (supposing
you mortal) winter's stealth & deathly mark
my heart cannot accept the visual lie
my empty branches murmur to the sky
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Finding Abel
I could not, could not stop it,
The shadow growing from his feet
Spreading its wings on his outstretched arms
Falling like a shroud on his uplifted head,
I could not, could not stop it.
Then came the silence
As the lamb bled on stones bled on desert,
Hellish silence that rode on the storm,
And tore the sky apart with a thousand wails
That ended the silence
I could not, could not stop it,
And now the cries of lambs don't stop
And now they drag me into a golden earth turned red
The keeper of bones, the keeper of wails,
And I cannot, cannot stop it.
The shadow growing from his feet
Spreading its wings on his outstretched arms
Falling like a shroud on his uplifted head,
I could not, could not stop it.
Then came the silence
As the lamb bled on stones bled on desert,
Hellish silence that rode on the storm,
And tore the sky apart with a thousand wails
That ended the silence
I could not, could not stop it,
And now the cries of lambs don't stop
And now they drag me into a golden earth turned red
The keeper of bones, the keeper of wails,
And I cannot, cannot stop it.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Winter Blues
Same time a year ago, snowy driveways,
frozen roads, icicles on naked trees,
for several dreaded despairing days.
I dreamt of July and a summer breeze
as the dreary darkness wore out its stay.
But even through this darkness bleak, I sought
a break in time. I did not want these days
to end, ’tis the passage of time I fought.
And so it’s true of our fondest wishes:
Of highs, of moments of joy unsurpassed,
that trail gloom toward weary finishes,
where we choose to let go or to make it last.
Awaiting seasons’ ends and new tomorrows,
we watch each sunset with immense sorrow.
frozen roads, icicles on naked trees,
for several dreaded despairing days.
I dreamt of July and a summer breeze
as the dreary darkness wore out its stay.
But even through this darkness bleak, I sought
a break in time. I did not want these days
to end, ’tis the passage of time I fought.
And so it’s true of our fondest wishes:
Of highs, of moments of joy unsurpassed,
that trail gloom toward weary finishes,
where we choose to let go or to make it last.
Awaiting seasons’ ends and new tomorrows,
we watch each sunset with immense sorrow.
BOOK LAUNCH
(For B.)
I’m early, by the look of it. Ushered in by the writer
I walk in, find a chair under a discreet light,
glance around. A few women scattered, brighter
for silks and cologne, and the air-conditioning’s bite;
a camera or two, a handycam adjusting his grip tighter,
and the mike man setting his knobs right.
On a table, the author’s labour lies in piles, neat
and inviolate till autograph time. A coffee drum,
cups and biscuits stand unbroached, complete
as still life, inert till the others come.
There’s no sign yet. I park my bag on the seat
next to mine, thinking I could do with some.
And return to wondering why I’m here. Bored,
I pull your precious Larkin out, grateful for the gift,
plant a surreptitious kiss to serve both adored.
Somewhere voices louden, as the guests drift
in; a speaker says something, words obscured
by accent. I revel in the librarian’s thrift.
***
I’m early, by the look of it. Ushered in by the writer
I walk in, find a chair under a discreet light,
glance around. A few women scattered, brighter
for silks and cologne, and the air-conditioning’s bite;
a camera or two, a handycam adjusting his grip tighter,
and the mike man setting his knobs right.
On a table, the author’s labour lies in piles, neat
and inviolate till autograph time. A coffee drum,
cups and biscuits stand unbroached, complete
as still life, inert till the others come.
There’s no sign yet. I park my bag on the seat
next to mine, thinking I could do with some.
And return to wondering why I’m here. Bored,
I pull your precious Larkin out, grateful for the gift,
plant a surreptitious kiss to serve both adored.
Somewhere voices louden, as the guests drift
in; a speaker says something, words obscured
by accent. I revel in the librarian’s thrift.
***
Untitled
They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in. - Psalm 107:4
It is now a time of silence, a time of darkness,
And still you wait
For words to seep into the grave
And resurrect you.
But how will you know what you awaken to?
To wander mute thru the desert,
To blinding light,
To be devoured by whispers,
To be burnt by memories of other words?
Do you still want to wake up?
Now as you wait
For the words to enter your silence
And fill you with a fearful music,
Awake, and ponder what you've lost.
A peaceful slumber, a promise of dawn, hope in mirages...
It is now a time of silence, a time of darkness,
And still you wait
For words to seep into the grave
And resurrect you.
But how will you know what you awaken to?
To wander mute thru the desert,
To blinding light,
To be devoured by whispers,
To be burnt by memories of other words?
Do you still want to wake up?
Now as you wait
For the words to enter your silence
And fill you with a fearful music,
Awake, and ponder what you've lost.
A peaceful slumber, a promise of dawn, hope in mirages...
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
(click on pic for higher res)
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Thursday, November 24, 2005
A GLANCE AT MARVELL
Not disdain, but in quiet knowing, your orbit’s reach
swept beyond common eyes, beyond the limited lenses
of mere stargazers. The firmament was for lesser lights,
the vain ones content to sing the lesser senses:
for you were one with gods, your distant sights
set on divine tongues, a remote austere speech.
Not flourish nor conceit, but a cavalier insouciance
marked your passage through worlds, lives, and time;
mocked the grave’s seclusion, gravely making love
to shy mistresses, an ear cocked for wheels on grime.
And in jewelled strophes, an eternity glimpsed above
the running sun, above the dark empyrean’s effulgence.
***
swept beyond common eyes, beyond the limited lenses
of mere stargazers. The firmament was for lesser lights,
the vain ones content to sing the lesser senses:
for you were one with gods, your distant sights
set on divine tongues, a remote austere speech.
Not flourish nor conceit, but a cavalier insouciance
marked your passage through worlds, lives, and time;
mocked the grave’s seclusion, gravely making love
to shy mistresses, an ear cocked for wheels on grime.
And in jewelled strophes, an eternity glimpsed above
the running sun, above the dark empyrean’s effulgence.
***
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
i'm no icarus...
Glorious Icarus
i'm no icarus.
won't fly too close
nor seek all
that allures
or, warms from a distance...
for i know
(the acrid taste of charred dreams)
my hopes will torch
and dash to ground
from being so high
in the sky...
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Memories
Faint wisps,so gentle
stored away in
the deep recesses
of my mind.
Waiting to be
unleashed,refreshed
with warmth and
nostalgia.
Like a picture story
where one scene
unfolds after
the other.
Of words and images,
a vast glorious
landscape captured
in its finest moments.
By my mind....
My mind,
so intricate,
subtle and
versatile.
Yet so treacherous.
stored away in
the deep recesses
of my mind.
Waiting to be
unleashed,refreshed
with warmth and
nostalgia.
Like a picture story
where one scene
unfolds after
the other.
Of words and images,
a vast glorious
landscape captured
in its finest moments.
By my mind....
My mind,
so intricate,
subtle and
versatile.
Yet so treacherous.
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