Poems

Snow (11)

Snow has alighted
Turning trees into the veins of angels

Shall I stand out there too?
Spread my fingers, crook my arms
And have the snow annoint me beautiful?

A girl I've not seen in years follows, laughing

And all the disappointment
like rings if you could saw me down
would drop away leaving us bare
ready for possibilities

February 10, 2010

10

Miss Brooks on a night
before a snowstorm
her bob and her bangs

She never really found anyone she was so busy being Herself
And now she forever dies in the lap of a murderer on Christmas Eve

My legacy...? I'll go back to taking my son to fencing when this play is over - my last for years. And I'll be a dim name recalled increasingly less frequently in the high school halls - that weird guy - taught Brecht. And I'll maybe be "your grandfather" to a kid I'll never meet.

But if there is something after, you'll find me where Louise might be. Having coffee on any given morning.

February 9, 2010

#9

My ears make their very own sound which only I can hear

Filling my silence with the unending bowing of a tiny cricket

He tells me horrible things, things about my body and my balance sheet

And reminds me that I will never fit in and that love was mine but it left me years ago

 

February 8, 2010

Saturday Night

I want to sip the night
and savour every drop of its mouthful of cold orange juice

I want to drink time
drop by drop and splatter none of it

But for you -
And each day is a shot of unchased tequila
Dopey drunk and slurred at the table

 

February 7, 2010

Through the cracks (#7)

Through the cracks the wind is cold
One cold finger after another.

And where do I lie now, with these cold hands?
Cold on my shoulder, my hips, my lips.

 

February 6, 2010

Number 6

I I
I cannot
make you better

Where is my power? Not here.
nobody'swhoiam
Not even a dad, just a guy
These days just a guy

It's your power.
You wield it everytime you dream in bed
but then you stay too long there
And at night, if the wind creaking outside keeps you up
You lay awake there
Fighting the urge to finally take the blame you so richly deserve.

 

February 5, 2010

Nachtpoem 5

Clocks have changed
They no longer tick tick tick
Or tick tock
Ours are quartz
They just tock
Tonight there are days between each of them:
Tock - when will my wife be home...
Tock - I'm so behind in work...
Tock - my son's laugh is still in my ears...
And now the tocks - the first at one pitch, the next slightly lower
such that it sounds like a limp
Time gimps along on two different legs
My son moans lightly in the next room asking for a little drink
A car goes by, and a plane...
And I am trapped here between the seconds.

 

February 4, 2010

Nachtpoem 4

I'm dim
dimmed
I'll dummy down
stymied and
stopped
ordering my own retreat
and discontinuation

Mother, I've lost.
You're only here yourself because I hit the "m" by accident
wish I was a happy accident
instead of the distressed product

of this I am sure:
tomorrow may or may not come
and I go to where the sleepers go

 

February 3, 2010

Nachtpoem 3

done with it all
with the light to off
the clock to alarm
and to blow out the warm candle to wax

we try and succeed at less these days
now smiles are an achievement
now feeling ok in your own skin for 5 minutes out of 24 hours is
big digs
where once we read minds it's now sections of The Times

meanwhile:

the night encircles like dark butter
I'm reminded how flimsy it all is
hopes, complaints, plans
it's all bent up
in pieces
on the floor
and this life is a wool sweater
warm, scratchy, old

 

February 2, 2010

The Why of This

The other night - January 30th 2010, my son and I were sleeping over at my mom's place. Well, not really sleeping because we were sharing a small bed and it was cold and Rainer was thrashing around and it was awful. And there were sounds outside - she has an apartment in down town Glen Cove - strange windy noises caused by anything other than the wind, cars most likely, the sounds drifting miles from the Expressway or some such. And so I tapped a quick poem into my iPhone just as I tried to fall asleep for the hundredth time that night. And then last night, I wrote another one - right before corking off, under the blankets, the lights out except for the glow off the iPhone, and me tapping away.

It seems to me to be a good daily practice... nightly practice. Off we go!

February 2, 2010
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