Monday, November 11, 2019

Our Games

As children we'd pretend we'd captured light
and held it as a funny thing to dance
or tole some darkness from the sky at night
and with the sunlight we could make it prance.

we'd imagine we held a bright blue sky
with a bit of white cloud off to one side
and with sunlight and darkness it would fly
whenever, wherever, we would decide.

As adults we pretend we capture light
that for a moment illumines a thought/
As if we could grasp ephemeral sight
or as if revelation could be caught

what we make are toys that we hope just might
remind other folks of darkness and light

6/13/04

Capture the moment

Not all of my poems are factual
some of them are, mostly
But I still try to grip something actual:
truth which is airy and ghostly.

To bind up in ink an eyeblink
and let ephemeral moments be captured
to hold and examine what I think
in the breath where my spirit is raptured.

6/13/04

Jennifer's Hug

When the music reached that one mystic loud,
you put your tiny arms around my waist.
When perception squeezed because of the croud,
you squeezed me until my fat old heart raced.

When the air smelled of cigarettes and weed,
I smelt your hair gel mixed with shampoo.
when the world swayed to guitar player's lead,
I knew that it lead me straight to you.

I caressed the smoothness of your shirt.
I heard the roughness of the singer's voice
when you held me so hard it started to hurt
your muscles pulsed with the rock and roll noise.

when fingers lingered as we pulled away,
the hug and the music made my day.

6/12/04

Note: I am retyping this in November of 2019. I have no idea who Jennifer was. I've known a few women named Jennifer. I have no idea what concert I was at in June of '04. My handwriting is always terrible, but it doesn't look like "I've been drinking" level of bad, so I can''t blame booze, although I am use at that age if I was at a concert, I was drinking. In some ways, the fact that I remember nothing about this moment but captured it in a poem makes it better than if I remembered it all.

Tylenol PM

Sorry, I can't talk right now
you see I took a pill.
I was hoping I could sleep somehow
but I am twinkling still.

I've been trying to shut down by brain
but the fuse will not burn out.
The wheels sparkle like a nitrous train
whose scream echos my shout.

My eyes burn like a desert sad.
More red but just as dry.
My back hurts from trying to stand
as my stomach tried to cry.

It would be best if you'd allow
yourself to go away.
sorry, I can't talk right now.
I don't know what I'd say

6/7/04

Evil and Idolatrous

A person sits in the middle.
Oil is poured.
Each of us places a hand on him
or her
and we pray.

My breath catches every time.
How is God going to move?
Is He going to move?
What will I do if He moves?

I'm scared,
scared of God,
Scared He might confront me with his existance
in a way it might take me weeks to explain away again.
and sorta hoping he will.

Evil and idolatrous, I seek after a sign
or at least wish for one
so I can doubt it
or explain it away

5/11/04

Like a Real Man

I sometimes complain that people don't see
that my living is made by work, for real.
When I say "people" I mean me.
And I can't get past the guilt that I feel.

So today I did work that I understand. 
I scraped and I painted and I used tools;
got black grime and grease all over my hands.
Not all that weak shit I do for my school.

Soon I'll return to my school room and books
and live by talking about things I've read
and sort of feel like the works of all crooks,
"this aint really working," screams in my head

but I've had this moment to understand
that I truly can work, like a real man.

5/10/04

Nebraska Skies

You can see stars here
even in town.
I'm not just talking about a few constellations,
a few brighter stars, and Venus, and Mars
I mean all of them.

A sky so vast and star-filled
that the stars almost obscure themselves
constellations run into each other
and the milky way makes a road across the sky
that you are almost sure you can walk on.

Things are clearer here
and higher
and proof of God is in the night air
in the clean breeze and sweet breaths
that you'd swear is the smell of stars.

For those of us who have to leave,
we want to bottle it all up and take it with us
the smell, the stars, the revelation
we want to pack it in a memory or a poem
as if a bottle of glass or ink could hold it.

5/9/04