literature

come sweetly

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come sweetly

It starts
The way

It ends—
Fingers of

Impossible light
Crawling

Over your
Face. In

Between—mind-
Less waiting.

Mouth gunk
Or a gunked

Up heart—
Going is just

Climbing
Back inside.

Photo by Alexandru Acea on Unsplash

chorus

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Chorus

Sun

make me whole again

to love

the shattered truths of me

spilling out like dragon’s teeth

through the hot lies

of those who say they love

me

when I am done

each shard will spring up

complete and armed

like a warrior woman

hot to be dealt with

slipping through alleyways

of musical night people humming

Mozart

was a white dude.

Photo by Juvnsky Anton Maksimov on Unsplash

naming chickens

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Don’t Name the Chickens
–Charles Simic

Let them peck in the yard
As they please
Or walk over to stand
By the edge of the road.

The rooster strutting about
Will keep an eye on them,
Till it’s time for them
To step under a tree

And wait for the heat
To pass and the children
To return to their toys
Left lying in the dust.

For, come Sunday,
One of the chickens may lose its head 
And hang by its feet
From a peg in the barn.

Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

carnivorous

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Carnivorous

 

I was lying loose from God. Strange is it not best   
Beloved, in the New World, in this skinny life,
 
Intemperate with chance, my spirit quickens   
For the fall’s estate. In India, the half
 
Hour is the hour, we were like that then—
Jammed wrong & wrong in the diurnal
 
Mangy chambers of our carnall
Hearts, the rose robes rustling loose as velvet
 
Curtains at the stage prow, passing   
Into the strange salt air of an Indian
 
Ocean, hoarding kindling, heading   
West with hours, later than we might
 
Have known, counting tins of meats & oil left,   
If they should lose or last the night.

 

Photo by Tiago Donangelo Figueira on Unsplash

red language

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Red Language
–Heid E. Erdrich

If I heard the words you once used
in our wild place rough with scrub roses
in sand—if your words came back
gray and kind as mild winter
believe me I’d still understand
offer my own red language
my tongue to your tongue
so we recall what we once said
that made us live
                        made us choose to live

Photo by Mia Harvey on Unsplash

and death shall have

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And Death Shall Have No Dominion
–Dylan Thomas

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan’t crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

Photo by Emre on Unsplash

silence

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Silence
–Babette Deutsch
 

Silence with you is like the faint delicious
Smile of a child asleep, in dreams unguessed:
Only the hinted wonder of its dreaming, 
The soft, slow-breathing miracle of rest. 
Silence with you is like a kind departure
From iron clangor and the engulfing crowd
Into a wide and greenly barren meadow, 
Under the bloom of some blue-bosomed cloud;
Or like one held upon the sands at evening, 
When the drawn tide rolls out, and the mixed light 
Of sea and sky enshrouds the far, wind-bellowed
Sails that move darkly on the edge of night.

Photo by Lisa Yount on Unsplash

what is free

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What Is Free
–Robert M. Drake

Photo by Todd Quackenbush on Unsplash

a man may change

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A Man May Change
–Marvin Bell

As simply as a self-effacing bar of soap
escaping by indiscernible degrees in the wash water
is how a man may change
and still hour by hour continue in his job.
There in the mirror he appears to be on fire
but here at the office he is dust.
So long as there remains a little moisture in the stains,
he stands easily on the pavement
and moves fluidly through the corridors. If only one
cloud can be seen, it is enough to know of others,
and life stands on the brink. It rains
or it doesn’t, or it rains and it rains again.
But let it go on raining for forty days and nights
or let the sun bake the ground for as long,
and it isn’t life, just life, anymore, it’s living.
In the meantime, in the regular weather of ordinary days,
it sometimes happens that a man has changed
so slowly that he slips away
before anyone notices
and lives and dies before anyone can find out.

i exist

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Untitled
–Stephen Crane (US)
A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

 

Photo by Guillermo Ferla on Unsplash