wb :

i wandered in alaska,
feeling pretty bored
when all a sudden to my left
there darted quick a fnord.
perhaps i was mistaken-
but sure that i was not,
i called my huskies to awaken,
and the fnord i sought.
fnord
all over the seas i ranged,
in search of th'elusive fnord
but scarcely a trace i gauged
of that invisible god.
it left me a broken man,
now weary of life itself
but still the desire ran
to see the fnord myself.
fnord
so over sea and mountain like i roamed,
though neither brought me sign of what i sought.
in time, the winter rains to me were brought,
the seas they froze and fresh in spring they foamed;
the leaves turned brown, were trodden into rust,
and gave the barren trunks their greens anew,
while eggs cracked open, hatchlings aged and flew,
and even stones were worn down into dust.
fnord
but ask me if i ever saw the fnord-
i never did, tho' everything i saw,
and all the songs of nature i did hear.
no man will ever know that work of god;
it is his oldest grave unspoken law:
that man before the fnord shall only fear.
fnord
not plucked from out the flow'rs or trees,
not panned from out the lakes and seas;
the fnord is nothing man can seize.
fnord
it is like a ghost in the evening air,
it is like the whisper of sweet despair,
fainter than gossamer, finer than hair.
fnord
but it is in every work that man has wrought.
in every statue, worked in every ingot,
in every word, each punctuation dot.
fnord
it is in every breath of city breeze,
in every stark cold white fluorescent glare
upon the baby cradled in his cot.
fnord
make no mistake, the fnord is there.
beware.
fnord
although you might not know of what i speak,
it is still early; wisdom's child is meek.
although i know it is in vain to seek,
you, dear, might find what i have longed to see,
in everything surrounding you and me;
but, pray, if you should ever see the fnord,
know that that knowledge is most dearly bought.

Labels: poetry

floor flower

papers
files flung or simply left
through neglect or a deliberate act of violence
bag open - blue whale sifting the air for the detritus of dust
eating through the shiftless cobwebs of disused time
or a mouth open in frozen, dead wonder
the ruins of Pompeii.

adam

Labels: poetry

for you (who caused my heart's erosion)

I. harlequinade
farcical clownery or
love? as our painted lips
(cherryred, dustymauve)
and the shaded world
sparkling under
my left eyelid
with stripes of
peach&rose&goldenrod
were threatening
to brush (or possibly collide)
at this instant
a (fairlysmall)
dollop of coldcream time
hearts twisted, tangled
hung
for sale on a yellow ribbon
caught up in
a lovers' flashy
display of
buffoonery

II. chaparral
a dense thicket of shrubs
where we tumbled&played
as children
and lopsided grins
cracked our faces evenly in half
as the sunlight dappled
your earlobes and chin
and we were
hippomenes&atalanta
orpheus&euridice
perseus&andromeda
as our lips were stained
with the purpling
fruit of berrybushes
and small trees

III. alcazar
a spanish palace or fortress
where you draped
silk&moonlight
across my curving limbs
and took my hand
(chilly for want
of your dust-caked touch)
and led me,
a princess (made of icy stars)
to a prison
dangling crazily
between earth and sky,
suspended (tucked-away)
in a twisted, blackstone tower
originally built by the moors

IV. sachet
a small packet of
ashy snow is my heart,
but
maybe you can
find the last glimmering
gemstone hidden
(buried&sifting)
in that wasteland?
i don't know how
it was fooled
so
(tenderly&mercilessly)
by your dancing pupils,
your laugh
sweetly aromatic as
perfumed powder

V. panorama
an unbroken view
into your graying eyes
where i cannot believe
what i saw:
a world shadowed with
silver mist
that shrouded and distorted
entire lumpish continents
and roiled over
the palsied sea
punctuated by blueblack bubbles
where tenthousand(maybemore)
emptyfaced people
had been placed
(in meticulous crisscrossing lines)
crowding the yellow tinged glass
of an entire surrounding area

VI. creosol
a colorless
look was all you threw my way
(but it missed)
and shattered crookedly
on the bristling fence
behind my two shoulderblades
and only slightly glancing them,
enough to sear a questionshape
into the whitewhite skin
a trail of hurt which
dripped and disappeared into
the air
remained&hovered
(but thanks for asking)
when you pressed scarred palms
to hollow cheeks
you left pinkbruised marks
glistening like
oily liquid

VII. iridescent
producing a display
of something like
hope (champagnecolored)
dancing at your temples
little glassy shards
of canned light
and i think it was a goodbye
half-sunk into your parted lips
and as we touched
(fingertips, like curling palm fronds)
into
a haphazard explosion
of lustrous, rainbowlike colors



side note: words in italics: meaning of the words in bold

Labels: poetry

Fairy tales

Once upon a time
Seems so long ago
No more weary knights
No more fire breathing foes

Chivalry and folklore's gone
The prince's kiss turned to dust
The jeweled sword no longer shines
The treasure chest is locked with rust

The mermaid's tail swims no more
The fairy's wings are ripped apart
And yet these things come back alive
In a read book and a child's heart.



Onions

straight line on the screen
perpendicular to my fingers crossed
i hold my breath. in it goes.
steady.
my heart races. hook me up to one of those
and the line will jump up and down
like fresh onions on a skillet.
he can't taste onions anymore. i cry.

Labels: poetry

double bill.

Hug

hovering on each other's edges
there is a precipice of indecision
in the split second of eye contact
a buzz (is it electrical, or some force of the soul?)

there is a rush; and the moment
vibrates
between the could be
or maybe should not then there is no hope

when it's over we wonder if it really happened;
was it some sort of insanity
(but we feel the lingering warmth down our sides)




Leaves

no telling when the wind will blow
its coming or its leaving
except the sound of moving leaves
a silence's gentle sieving

between the bars of quiet
with luck a footstep may trawl
a passing car makes angry air
on an evening's sultry drawl.

my breath intrudes;
Silence is the friend of feet
voices give way to headlights
and the sound of a darkened street.

adam

Labels: poetry

a long time since
or: delayed onset of hyperallergy

sometime around twelve in the afternoon, at the height of the heat, a man collapsed deep in the dark heart of a giganteous dome; the dome that protected his kin from ravaged and revengeful nature. his passing made no noise; caused no stir; and soon an ambulance picked his body up, its automated medical system still whirring. the coroners- his fellow students- found no poison, no drug, no killer save the man himself. exposed to open nature once, so many years ago as a child, he had become addicted to her wild and sullied beauty; today he died of it.

Labels: drabble, prose