poetry
My poems very rarely have names. They are also very rarely any good. But here are a few of the nicer ones, in no order whatsoever:
the gulf of acquaintance { june 28, 2004 }
beautiful. control.
what is poetry but this
evocation, past feeling,
into words where no true
thought runs away with
knives?
the connection is reached for,
imagined so so
adequate, but is it?
can it ever bring together
those inconceivable others,
those far yet brilliant scapes
of elsewhere?
extended to almost. almost
good and close enough
to
read.
consumed
the dreams of other men
enchant us all
so much that what we
might have dreamt ourselves
gets lost out in the fog
of what they call
(ambivalently)
the mainstream.
shaded { 2001 }
my shadow might be bound by chains,
but she knows how to break them.my shadow sees my greatest dreams,
and she knows how to chase them.my shadow is acquainted
with every type of fear,
but someone must have told her
not to listen when it screams.my shadow's been around the world,
to every moon and star,
read every book, heard every song,but all she ever showed me
were the good parts.
october 2004
i need no muse, i am my own,
and grant myself the key
to inspiration's spacious heaven.
i need no muse to lead me where
the seedlings of my thoughts
grow green and twining in the light.
i need no muse. begone cruel sprite
who peeks in on my dreams.
i need thee not to guide my pen.
i need no muse, i am my own
best knowing how to paint
my life, my art, my soul, myself.
january 15, 2006
placeholder fantasies waiting to die
she's waiting to live
waiting to cry
exigencies
the mood of the verse
is irrational
its focus twisted upon nothing more than itself;nothing,
claiming its own sake the noblest reason
for existing at all.expression first.
all meanings secondary.
