wb :

ok, so i lied. i'm secretly a modernist.

-~-

s is for cereal
are we not all serious?
there is no moon in the sky that is black
jack

son of the man
mannequin kin puppet's peer and wigstand's child
you joke! but dance a little jig for us
and while the us away
while the us of a
it does not behind to compute.

but bitten by welve tmosquitae

unlikely that i am joyce bysshe or poland
twelve again computes me.

yes, the taste of autumn is in the sakura
and who can resist- the teeming diaspora?
sit beneath the tree
watching cherry blossoms fall
floating to the sky

zen is ahead and the past is zen;

it is not defiled to speak of it

when another choking on the smog of air
the oxygen that feeds into despair
not burning anymore but eating now
no radiant face or furrowed brow
it leaves a skull to look ahead
at our unsleeping dead
insisting that they live
what gives?

on the bridge
another earth crashes;
the supports groan with the mouths of a million greeks
if it had breasts to beat then
there would be no equal in expression
naked, oiled, it is ready
then the spear lunges and it falls.

sometimes i wonder
many times i have died
but this is no claim over my life
and the cherry blossom falls
but the trees stand. not seeing,
the king of gods hangs as all about him
pink bloombuds drift
has he wisdom now?

Labels: poetry

I see her as she sits -
the woman in her wheelchair;
will she look down and see me?
What will she see? What will she think?

Grandmama, you've no english to speak of,
I have no age.
Talk me of time,
and i will tell you my youth.

You wizened crone!
what secrets have you gained?
what secrets have lost you?
What have you bartered for your beauty?


I see you, as you gaze on me.
You smile, that look of content wistful.
You know more than I.

Yet you sigh, sewing on,
Knitting with your needles,
Clackety-clackety
Clack.

Labels: poetry

The night is young, the day is through, all that conquers my mind is you;
Through darkness, as an arrow true, pierced in my heart, the wounds accrue;
Down memory's dark avenue, the unrelenting thought of you;
All that conquers my mind is you; the night is young, the day is through.

Here, now, amidst the death of sight, I stand within the naked night,
Despaired, bereft of all respite from fury of the untamed tide;
My dreaming brings me not delight- filled not with bliss, but born of blight;
I stand within the naked night here, now, amidst the death of sight.

The morning rises in the east, uncloaking light the midnight's mist;
The dewdrops in the gold light glist are all remained of twilight's tryst;
And darkness' veil about you ceased, I cannot chance a glance resist;
Uncloaking light the midnight's mist, the morning rises in the east.

When noontime bathes the world aglow, it all my passions overthrow;
As melting of the winter snow, then all my heart doth overflow;
When love triumphs everything below, and you the only thing I know;
It all my passions overthrow, when noontime bathes the world aglow.

And once more I am in dismay when evening harries you away;
Lost to my sight, to light of day, my hope again begins to fray;
And colours turn to stony gray - oh! how I wish that dark delay
When evening harries you away, and once more I am in dismay.

The night is young, the day is through, all that conquers my mind is you;
Down memory's dark avenue, the unrelenting thought of you
Through darkness, as an arrow true, pierced in my heart, the wounds accrue;
All that conquers my mind is you; the night is young, the day is through.

Labels: poetry