that thing

i sit here thinking, trying to write
and worry what i’m scrawling won’t sound right.
flowers and tingles and rhymes and such
never end up amounting to much.

i could tell you i love you but i always do.
i could use cliche and sunshine describing you.
i could write about heartbeats, breathing, and flight,
or miracles, blessings, devotion, and fright … Continue reading

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Poetry versus Prose (Act One)

I can throw my thought pieces on the page, shuffle and shift them, rap them out like Tupak, or shape them like a slam – and I’m done.  Then it becomes the reader who must make something out of them.  If I’m skillful enough, the reader wants to make the effort.  If not, they skip or delete.  For me, that’s poetry.

When I write in sentences, I have to think harder.  Continue reading

nowhere is not always insignificant

we talked and in our ramblings 
    got nowhere
i felt

(not that lack of feeling meaning
        means that lack 
    of significance has taken place)

our romantic phone drippings
    were sincere 
and true

(oh, if only i could feel her, 
        heat and breath
moist and electric)

and i know talk can sometimes be
        just that
circumstances dealt

(and maybe "nowhere" is
        just a mirage)

mysteriously, curiously, physically, 
        emotionally, intellectually, inquisitively …
all i know is i miss her.

Alcedo atthis -water -splash-8

I Don’t Want to Leave

snow caps on mountains, and valleys
barren tan fresh looking basins
green clumps and sprinkles of trees
each inch a mile, and time hastens.

brightness in my eyes –
i tug the blind halfway.
periwinkle skies –
beautiful travel day.

sleepy and warm, i drift to dreams
and wait for the house to fade …
twist back time, unfabric the seams
back to kisses and touches made …

eastbound I-80 – drowsy driver warning

Time Ride (Oct 1999)

wear out the ever present smiles
tick the talks of past, feelings, and desires
stretch this new found love across the miles
and see if our wanting one another tires.

The Passage of Time

The Passage of Time (Photo credit: ToniVC)

tender lasting (Oct 1999)

into my impossible she sneaks
out of my longing she speaks
for seconds or for a day
time is irrelevant that way
she catches my love constant
and recasts for a bigger bite

    and she doesn't even know she's fishing
        every moment near her i'm wishing
                and often recasting
                for a tender lasting

                                    bigger bite

English: Fly Fishing, Sandwick

words tucked away for a future day (Oct 1999)

 i haven't said …

so now i search
for understanding 
for wisdom handing
me thoughts and causes
for momentary brain pauses
before i don't say …

i don't expect a confirmation
    in the unspoken given to speech
do i hide in absolution
    before letting pronouns and a verb teach
one more lesson
    on haste making waste
    or changing truth's taste
    or maybe one i've not heard yet

needful to say but i can't find a way
to reason and find the cause behind
what is not said, nor even read.
if i do not speak, it isn't because i'm meek

my mind and heart lead me in self-honesty
so to avoid betraying,

            i'm just not saying …

Frozen Silence

this i’m not (Oct 1999)

in the ring or out
does the loser stay lost?
is the beaten always beat?
does the paying always cost?

this is not my song
suffering hard and long
my story is not one
of painful days are done

i’m no victim.

no sorry, beaten, broken
little shaken token
of hard knocks and heavy blocks
of treacherous walking and tearful talking
painful draining
shoulders straining
weighed down with no crown
to show for
the thousand different
fuck-ups and suck-ups
troubles doubled
that have me flattened on the sidewalk.

what i am i don’t always know, but this i’m not.

Underground

Castle (1999)

a simple complex sandcastle
with steady sturdy towers
walls glistening in the sun
with the moistness
and the magic
of brand new built.

many doors, mostly open
only one locked shut
only the castle itself in possession
of the key to free
what’s inside.

the sun smiles
on the beauty
the complex simpleness
what is now, and what will ever be
the land’s barrier,
the tide’s punching bag.
but for this time, this moment
she stands firm
on the sand of the beach that forms her.

A sand castle at Cannon Beach, Oregon.

By Curt Smith from Bellevue, WA, USA (Sand Castle at Cannon Beach) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

i am the needle (August 1999)

like a scratch in a record
skipping back and back monotonously
the needle jumping, reaching for familiar
not by choice or preference
and certainly not for Fate

the needle’s destiny is to stay in one place
and let the vinyl run amuck
round and round
traveling ground
the needle never sees
but because the disk’s grooves
are spiraled it moves
closer and closer
to the center
to the core
where the song ends
until it gets lifted
and a new song begins

but scratches and rifts
throw the needle back
and it is forced to never again
reach.

i am the needle

(to be continued)

Overheated vinyl record

That’s one bumpy ride!

Invisible Dirt (May 1999)

baby talk
chew and walk
rub and pat
i can do that

twist and shout
sweat it all out
rock and roll
deep in my soul

fancy free
insanity
no order
inside of me
no method to the madness
no clear reason for the sadness

happy hurt
invisible dirt
painful joy
broken glass toy

wash and wear
have a care
permanent press
more for less

be a friend
make it end.

fog

Road Trip (Apr 1999)

air tight
in wide open
sky bright
roads wind sloping
living green round about
clapping pavement before and hind
window down, my arm out
all the freedom i can find
music’s blasting, i don’t mind

little untainted alcoves
tall green guardians surround heavenly
tucked and stashed mystery groves
whip past me going seventy

lost and found on an interstate
wilderness without and within
my worries and sorrows abate
and my business of late
disappear here, how long it has been

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