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Archive for December, 2011


I am
what
my daughter calls
peripatetic

atoms,
planetary rhymes,
loosed by a sun
turned
tantrum scholar,

maniacal
and slightly dissatisfied
by the silence
of her peers this all
arrived

to discover
oh, I don’t know,
maybe just a
steady hum of fear
which drained
its way tiptoe
across ten carpeted
galaxies,

tripped

over some
whispering sands
you left behind,
took

a turn and
there encountered,
world-keyed
and faint,
nothing
but

sun-faded laughter.



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on the strength of the absurd

on the mountains of tomorrow i count only dark
curls of your hair that were in my face but
yesterday, and thereby know that faith
preserves what always was within its proper
provenance. i hear

that well along
our sacrificial path we eventually
encounter
the difficult part of practice.

now they are no more
the owners

of individual life-streams;
each flows its own way

well loosed, into memory cells
contained

within a softened heart.


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Too much for me.

A pen laid by my pillow.
It sleeps with me. November
trees I imagine
I am destroyed.
I remember them.

O cold eye that hurts
you threaten to show me a world
voiceless and
sightless, a
plain.

stop here. You gaze around
what do you see?
not a home.
not a resting place.

Take me back to the place where snow fell
and I was a day
plucked from the summer of vision.

Hiding in a darker shadow
and still singing of spring.


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a sandy provenance of stolen dreams
which devolves upon the winter tide
is all that woke me to morning, once
again not even the dog wanted his walk.
i have come this way and then this way
haunting for some unfounded teaching
but the ghost dawn of one more day

was not your breath filled leanings
that i once loved,
nor your joy glazed thought:

meandering of winter light
this too long life
this too long longing



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                        valley home

just
over those hills i suspect a
monster slayer of leaving behind
some adolescent
lies and grief gone bad in the summer sun.
dream road of youth used to lead me there
past all these developmental milestones.
winter come, i think it must have been
a matter of seeing the community we found ourselves
in did not really share our values;
thus participation was no longer ethically
defensible. one wonders really
how Abraham managed alone in the wilderness
when the time came,
wagering living creatures
that we are: alloy
of fact and desire.

o my dear berkeley wandering feet,
how have i missed you.


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she dragged me from the street and kissed me
til i loved her like a dog out of sight. drew the fire brand.
and butchered me later that night.


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Does mind pain ever end upon dawning of the day
Do we continue night’s writhing by turning hours of the sun–
Laughter ever an occasion for someone’s misery,
Tender looks there digging sadness
            Out of every one by single one?
Did ancient crusades, holy wars, over-worked tapestries
Of variegated endeavors spawned in the breast of a haunted heart
Turn misguided culture shock to despiséd third world parts,
Long sundered from their war addicted community?
            Were it foretold and ordained from the start
That hearts should turn against their own designs
And thus cannot be trusted, nor lands with love combined?



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