sound offer

omg – i just recorded two poems for you to listen to, if you’d like to hear my wonky voice *grin .. no rehearsals, just as is … i’m using sound upload for now as i’m still in shock that i did this.

it’s a bit of a clonky process and you’ll need to click back to here after listening or do that “open in new tab” thing …

if you have comments would you put them here?

i don’t intend to use sound upload as a place to talk though there is a comment box there … it’s just a temporary place!

sooo, i’ve tried light entertainment & unnameable

simple quiet

magpie clatter
vies with
mad skyclutter

contrails twist
suspension
bridging cloud

high thoughts
and sun
where you are

asleep in stars

nothings #7

On the wall a shimmer hints of motion, teases still. Scarlet woman then but sanguine now, i splice acquiescent moon – to hang your shadow, maybe, in the empty space. All those missing moments, shades that clouded night, they are suspended now – aimless and immobile. In epicentric heave a lightning snap delivers life from death. Motion soothes an ache of time so my back is still against the wall.

explanatory

i haven’t vanished though that last post may have been a premonition …
i’ve been ill. recovery is under way …*grin

beached

I’d never seen lightning in the clouds quite like that. It spoke of me. Maybe even came from me. Don’t ask me how I knew. It just was. I felt it rise in veins already bursting on the beach of someone not yet met. You were already drowned in sand. An abyss of my contempt. Your ignorance of nature and my essence was appalling. Lightning held my time in trust until I claimed it back. You thought that it was ours. You were wrong.

nothings #4

Six years ago we smiled and talked anew of hammer drills and trucks, the grand design and beloved demons. Two hundred miles changed everything. It’s weird how I felt nothing when your heart stopped.
How the steady pulse of rain on road still travels through dark hands.

nothings #3

I scribble dreams on sheets; fold them, carefully, around me. It isn’t that they’re fragile. I just want to wear them all, smudge them and wake covered in their ink.

glimpse

 

Palm-tied to earth I love wings, cruising low so easily to accept golden seed from my fault-lines. Is my heart devoid of altitude, cauterized too often to feel anything but the blasted past of pain? No. Sky-seed’s in all veins. We’re rising beyond monochrome. The birds and I. You?

nothings #2

 

They think you’re dead. Dust on the ocean. Fish food now.

Dead has four letters, one repeat so three. And dea isn’t a word in English so it’s incomplete or something else. A prelude maybe.

Always has six letters, one repeat so five. Not counting decades of linguistic change – they change numbers and geometry. All wayes. Not even just one word, hey?

Then there’s the big bad book. Now that nails mind and perspective to a fishing rod destined to stay empty. Some bait, huh? Do fish count the days to their next meal?

Forget the words and numbers.
Everything is lost if translation lacks a heart.

You don’t have to try that hard to see a full moon all the time no matter what the quadrant says.

By the way, life has four letters. No repeats. Soul food for the gods?

nothings #1

Tail lights glitter. Sawdust on ten thousand miles of ice and desert, chrome and mud. Between here and dawn, now and then. Where in hell are you? Dante ain’t seen nothin’ yet. He should talk to me.