Friday, November 30, 2012

Ghastly Giant



Cast in perpetual night,
nervous insects venerate
dime-size leathery hate.

Rake rust: bit of bone found,
sound 
amongst hoary dust.

Come to accurate
conclusion
and move along.



Thursday, November 29, 2012

In the Rain



Atmosphere cleansing,
words resound
in the rain.

Slight splatter on sidewalk
brings syllable to focus.

Consonants charge,
rise and ring
in the rain,
atmosphere cleansing.

In the rain,
tooth and tongue
are sharpest.

It began at a funeral,
continued along quiet lane,
down the severe hill,
in the rain.

And this is what I am here to tell you,
this is what I mean to say:

The same quandary,
over and over
and over again? It's
rarely resolved, 
not even in the rain,
atmosphere cleansing,
words 
in sharp relief.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Toll Taken



She peers into mirror,
placid surface meeting stare,
blink for blink.

There's nothing she can do.

Her season, a lunar vacancy.

There's nothing she can do.

Promenades, packed in cobweb;
valentines, jarred and shelved.

Once, she tried to expunge her past.

Table turned, it's rid itself of her.

On the vesper side, lights flash.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Feral



On.

On its shelf. A stout
mocha, cobalt, amber 
fray.

Malt grist,
vaporish door.

Flares spitting
at stars, they
cannot win.

Rickety crane
swivels 
round, 
round-round:

waltz time.

Squirrels appreciate
pause, anticipate
dawn: dreams electrically
animate 
feral animal brain.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Chorus



Dresden. Helsinki.

Hiroshima. Nagasaki.

Leningrad. Moscow.

Hanoi. Bombay.

Peking. Havana.

Algiers. Abuja. 

Santiago. Roma.

Rio. Milan.

On and on...

The Communists
are the smart ones,
in charge and 
cool, in stride.

Concerto in Red.
Lady in Red.

Millions, marching,
cheering!
Millions as one!
Marching! Red
flags defiant,
brilliant in the sun!

Resilient.

Red.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Love



The watermark...

Even suffering
Bolivian century under 
ten feet of cement,

the watermark remains.

Hold it to 
light and
see!

Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Long Hill



They are on their way.

Having left a quarter-hour ago,
they are on their way.

Up, up, up the long hill

bearing black roses,
a dozen black roses.

They are on their way,
into the gathering grim,
bearing a dozen black roses.

Smirking stars manifest,
animal eyes squint.

Up, up, up the long hill.

They are on their way.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Rust




I don't mind 
darkness.

No, Plutonian is ideal.

And I prefer the day 
overcast, gray
as Bucharest. 

Yes, 
that is fine with me.

These things
are fine.

These things
are fine with me.

Drear is fine
with me, Romanian eve
is fine.

Unhinged sunlight
is rust in my motor,
a stick in my eye.