30 Poems in 30 Days

[le_chat]

1 ................................................................................. 3

 

[le_chat]

1 ................................................................................. 4

 

[Yoron]

----------------------

Days like clouds
Sweeping by

lost
As they vanish in the mist

and me

Standing at the bow of the Titanic
Icebergs ahead

-----------

 

[le_chat]

1 ................................................................................. 5

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer08 1

Now, Voyager

Isn't she
all of us? Picture her
after the recovery
after Claude has put
her savaged mind back
in place
suddenly perfect
suddenly an impostor
Don't we all
know that moment?
I step
out into the light
as one thing
perfected, costumed
containing another thing
an old maid, no one's
darling
until I bought new shoes
and someone helped me
slant this crisp hat brim
just right
but knowing that
inevitably
I will stumble
and be drawn under
again,
into that painful error
that everyone sees, everyone
sees.

Though the mascara smears
and I'm no one's sweetheart
anymore,
it's a relief
to let go.

 

[4degrees]

1-18

the first and the last
very much alike in the ways
of consuming
of conscience
like a leafless branch
left barren in the wake
of tornadic winds
whipping beyond human ability
snap off another thin stick
a branch with which to whip
since time began
the begats of passion
brings every man to his knees.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 2

Of course I began it with
complete purity, in
my braided, scarlet A
sort of own
way. But I can't control
the red stilettos
favored by my guardian angel.

She dresses as she likes
and all purity
has its roots, of course,
in the earth.

When I understood
how epic, perfect
and invisible you were
I stopped worrying
and let her whisper to me
go, go to him
wear a rainbow, take off
the necklace and hover
over him.

and then at times, facing the northwest
my arms would prickle and pull
as if moving an inch further
I could feel your skin
just there. An inch
only an inch more.

She says my hands
are not my hands
that they multiply
and travel
to the horizon, and I
can feel them, honestly
the tips of the Rockies
delicately, under me,
as I pass by
overhead, a slight breeze.

 

[4degrees]

18-2

every step made me shorter
like walking down a non existant
decline, both sides to my sides
rose up like a diving subway.

every distraction possible
does its job
keeps one from
going crazy with over analyzing
divert my necessary cling-like
tendency with all your
bones and rock n' roll
all the bared flesh
for miles and miles
nicotine and taurine
make my thoughts of
decline abscent
make sure they stray
upon their timely return
turn my head again

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 3

There is nothing for it
but for me to arch up
in absent agony like a bow
like a spasm, and grip
at my own arms.
It's mad, angelic,
to want you this hard
to know exactly, to have
no doubt at all, but never mind,
the body, the heart
for it all to agree
regardless.

Everything looks like you
everything smells like I imagine
the earth around you, your skin,
the green depth of your space
or the top of your head
or the crease of your thigh.
It crashes on me
and buildings remind me of you
and music reminds me of you
and ties and mushrooms and
old barns and that cloud
and this picture of a fire
and this wineglass remind me of you.

I make my mouth believe
it is tasting you
in licorice, in the smoke
in the pens I chew to
stay busy. My mouth
is an angel too,
suggesting you
on my tongue.

Your hands
are very nearly wound into
my hair and my legs
are very nearly moving up
and I am very nearly
covered with stripes and you
are very nearly closer after this
most recent flight
and it is raw meat and fast pulse
flutter and it is
iconic as the pyramids
as the pillars, how much
I want you.

 

[4degrees]

18-3

summer baked steet steams
with the mid day rain
that comes every day now
its like, seattle or something
the river swelling, spilling
leaving wet wreckage
drowning corn and rotting wood

poems about the weather
whether or not anyone cares
there is always a disaster somewhere
at any given moment
poems written about the weather
like a transparent facade
a foolish mask while i bite my tongue
curb my fingertip
from saying what i really want

or maybe i don't even know
what i really want

its a broad and inclusive
area.
pretty much anything will fit there.

 

[4degrees]

18-4

it was a taste
just a flash of past flavor
last night,
recalling
calling out those
old ways
falling all over again
wishing to begin
but then
it seems ok, finally
my heart settles
in a better place
my love floats on water
like oil
light and moveable
and ever-present
you were the best present
that remains
unchanged.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 4

The poem is in the arrangement of stones.
She stacks bricks against the stream
Ophelia, kneeling in mud for a year
building the dam, the catch-pond
for the leaves and sunfish
and seeing it carved and tipped
by frogs and the flood

still here, she surrenders
to the scrabble of wet sandstone
and moss, ankle-deep in it.
This is important, she says,
If I can make this, I will
know what I need to do
This is important. I am coming
to understand water.

She is the water too, the way
it finds the smoothest, easiest path, the way
it wears everything down, everything
through, eventually.

Madly, she tears at the weeds
and pats them down into the stones
filing a thousand holes.
The water wins
pushes everything over
carves and destroys
makes nothing matter
the water wins
every time. There is so much more of it
than there is of her.

 

[4degrees]

18-5

mental pedometer clicks within
while shopping amongst the scalies
a hot aroma of toxic saliva
reminding one of birthdays
or opposition
fractions of a broken mirror
i love me, let me count the ways
a thousand fragments of self
looking into vacant eyes
waking dream of a fuck
that generates smoke
jester and a devil, juxtaposed
as if figure modeling
every muscle unmoving, beautifully still
stiff, cold and generous
unable to deny the needy
and the greedy
at all

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 5

.


unrepentant
Garbo puts
the cigarette to her lips
she never takes her eyes from yours
so much is there
in the angle, the grey on grey
precision of her glance
and the tilt of one
finger
as she exhales
perfectly
disguised.


.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 6

Gawain

when you finally wake
from those first days of fever
you move your hand
despite the ache
over the curve of her hip. She
leans closer, arches
like the stone gate
like the inlet where
you fell to water

you hurt, but somehow
the thigh, the shoulder, fade
that spear point loosens
her hands smooth something
through your skin
her fingertips hold
and trickle against your lips
and down
and in along the crease and then
you know it doesn't matter
you know it will be fine
fine, and
so fine

.

 

[4degrees]

18-6

leaves
ways of trees are
constant and unconditional
predictable
while the rest of nature dictates fate
they fall where they may
in may or june, or
any number of months
and when frost renders the
slim wooden fingers naked again
another summer, fall gone
fallen to the changing season
so many ways and things
complete another circle
another lover
leaves

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 7

Angel
archangel
come
she says
and you do because
for a moment
in the rage
you can feel
the wings
the arch
the down
fall.


spread
like the fast
approaching
land
she opens
as earth
to receive you
bright
beautiful
dying boy.

 

[4degrees]

18-7

clouds consisting of
unrealistic expectations
fill otherwise blue skies
with my favorite shade
of gray
i am the sun
and seem to welcome
the blanket of neutral un-color
hiding the shine from
everyone.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 8

.


You believe I find it easy
only because I cannot see your spots
your weaknesses, your plainness.
But it is those imperfections
I love already, in those around me.
The hairs and creases,
what is crooked, the tantrums and habits
their uncombed selves, the way
they smell at night, sleeping, the way
the tops of their heads
have the scent of love, like a child.

I know the bottles in the medicine cabinet
the indigestion and temper, the moods
they indulge privately. I learn to love
the rest, love all of it, equally.
I work backwards. The despite and because
are reversed in me. Despite your brilliance,
despite your articulate hands, your presence
at a party, your perfect creases and ideal charms
but because of your aches and moods, because
of your mundane cruelties, your crookedness
your days of isolated anger
it is these I want, these things
that separate you from your angels
these foolish betrayals and momentary shadows
your petty gestures, your devil self, the scars
and grudges.

Without these things
your skin is too perfect to love easily
and I would joyfully trace round each spot and mole
that worries you, each memory of shame and error
I will witness with glee all the ways
you do not manage perfection
it is the devil that leads us to God
I dive to the darkest part
and unearth the small and impeccable jewel
rising with it
as it glows red in my two hands.

.

 

[4degrees]

18-8

something regurgitated
from a past passion
would go undetected
re-use any number of
old and obsessive
compulsive sap
to write today's verbal
excrement with the ingredients
of yesterday's failed recipe;
the mental love baked
all too long in a brain-oven;
and its dryness left one wishing
for gravy.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 9

Do you think I enjoy
being the death goddess?

I have to be ugly, to
carry swords, to make
this fierce face

You, your silly shames
your demons, your petty
tempers and your grasping
make me necessary. This
whirling blade, this flail
this fiery tongue
my force, my screams
are all because you will not let
your demons leave.

You feed them, fascinated
you sit them round you in the dark
and stroke their spiny heads

And in these bloody rituals
when our theater makes you shed your skin
I tear them clean, apart,
I rip them on the burning wheel
for you
I'd rather be the goddess of delight
the sweet-faced mother
But you'd rather be blooded
and forced, and these days that's
fine with me.

 

[4degrees]

18-9

prolong my waking dream
with just one more
just one more
re:,
imagined my face in
that dark mane, the
heat of your nape inflamed
by the puffs of breath
the taste of a delicate
yet strong jaw
on the tip of my
its on the tip of my tongue
its nearly been said
it has, without so many words
i have all but said
and you are bold enough
you haven't yet said
fuck off.

but when you do, it will be another poem.

 

[4degrees]

18-10

a song of skeletal letters
hooked together, forming words
in a dialect i cannot reform
the story has no form
knowing not where it
come from, all or at least some
must be constructed
out of dead flowers and
dry earth
a mismatched poem
gives birth
to a mental picture
i cannot tear my eyes from.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Summer 08 10

Mothers and Daughters


I can tell she's annoyed
I've let the raspberries go wild
in your grove
your hair is as tangled as mine

graves should be more careful
more deliberate, mown mounds
that soften the outlines
the sharp edges of the dead

Not piles of stones
and wild vines
where rude red berries
ruin the subtle shades

At least, she says
there's no rain today
the forecast said
definitely tomorrow

she takes a photo
of you and I
against the wild green
with no flash

you will be
the colored bubble
some error in development
that ruins the picture

I am so proud of you
you are as much
of a disappointment to her
as I am.

 

[4degrees]

18-11

confession then
rejection makes every
object of beauty
moreso
objectionable to those
who's reality check
is bought with credit
discredit and delete
as needed, the preceeded
is a mental figment
cryptic and cynic-esque

the wire mesh under
the feel of flesh
takes on a shape
rises up into a bipedial
piece of prose
dressed for success
listen to me count
the ways, the transit system
here goes just one way
a four degree bump
that slows traffic
for half a second

i want seconds.
minutes, hours
days in the fray are
numbered
like dot to dot
expressionism
nothing is a reproduction;
every thing's original