As we reach the end of our wick

As we reach the end of our wick
hearts made shallow and clear from heat
lit from within
like a woman with three hearts
who melts forward on her stem
we sink down
and burn the last small ounce around us
holding, expiring,
drowning
on a pedastal of tin.

Why Not?

"I want out," I say.

Of what - I reply

"Of me," I answer.

No one's stopping you - I retort

"Will you come with me?" I ask.

I can't - I respond

"Why not?" I query.

It's not done - I sigh

"Well then, let's have lunch."

The Exceptional Beast...

is square in the roundabout
lolls its head
and yet never shakes it
remembers to brush
up against its neighbors
sighs contentedly when petted
is quick-witted and practices
exceptional
slight-of-hand
maintains an aura
of silk, cold silk
in June
makes monkeys of the competition
needs sugar lumps on a daily basis
fashions its fur stylishly
never undoes its gear for anyone
makes appointments
keeps some of them
ruminates
can keep up a trot for hours
moves at the speed of light
rejoices
cries
sleeps each night on an empty pillow
polishes its own horn
always knows what day it is
knows that solitude is necessary
even a necessary evil
takes notes on good fiction
burns them

is 4 foot 12 inches
can deck a grown man
has tubes in its nose
relays information via semaphores
never repeats secrets
installs software
removes kinks with massage
manages to pull a 3.8 GPA
has excellent credit rating
has met the Prime Minister
never doubts its heritage
plays harmonica
knows braille
makes friends easily
shares its toys with other children
gives “donkey” rides for free
does construction of all types
votes Democratic
owns a pair of thigh high boots
speaks softly but carries a big stick
of gum

answers most geographic queries
correctly
handles tax and IRS forms properly
blows nose quietly
can shoot a rifle or .38 Magnum
is never ambushed
or surprised by anything
predicts the horrific and
the beautiful Future
depends on the horoscope
kicks assailants in teeth
burns bridges
tailgates jerks
visits the pet store
buys lizards
whinnies to perfection
determines employees’ salaries
states the truth even when unpopular
dodges cheap shots
makes enemies easily
maintains a dignified presence
wears black
except in Summer
has cavities filled semi-annually
marshals reserves against self-doubt
trusts no one
made the “honors” club
rejects junk mail
plays Mah jong
trounces opponents
negotiates physical spaces
shows decided preferences for ginger

memorizes and quotes large portions of Shakespeare
doesn’t snore
restlessly moves in case someone is near
feeds three meals a day
corners on a dime
shops thriftily
consumes only what is needed
never takes flight in front of children
grabs only during organized sports
dreams about driving and swimming
at the same time
makes a point of bathing
in public
doesn’t smoke a cigarette
in bed
rows its boat down the stream
merrily
has a vivid imagination
has a miasmic personality
rejects liver donations
wounds easily but never quits
has a watch tower
with an elevator

stunts its growth with coffee
rewinds certain songs over and over
reflects on the kindness of strangers
remembers the past with equilibrium
stays on top of the bills
while sleeping
does not know what “cud” is
would never chew it
reorganizes the file cabinet before bedtime
watched a little daytime television
fell asleep momentarily during Jeopardy
aspires to be an even more exceptional beast

Confusion

Confusion is like a piece of pie
with a cherry on top.
It spreads everywhere
so you have to use a mop.

(written by Isaac)

Close

Hot in here.
The air is close
Like winter
And t-shrts with whiteness.
There are cups in here
Holding bits of water
With strong teeth. We
Hold each his own.

Sit here
For forty five minutes
There’s tea and cookies
And a look with
Sigh
That tells me I
Am watched
Embrace me,
Don’t waste me, don’t store, or fold or cajole me.
Take me up, your favorite sweater.
Wear me out
Inside
And out.

Wednesday

Doors keep slipping
and breaking
from my fingers.

They slide all one-sided
and hot like tallow
onto the floor to crack.
I’ve pushed them
further harder
they always break, these doors.

I walked the edge
of my seat,
worn out the pattern on my shoes,
served dry-heat
and belly-tossing cards around
to a circle of dead red
faces.

And I can’t find one of them now.
Buried or gone
to sea or
hatched from Febuary.

I broke a promise
to the church
forgetting handles
and locks
leaving keys unattended
on pews or
on dressers.

I broke through doors before,
but never one like this one.
This one has:
luck, beauty, grace
like a dandelion.

You should see the way I smile these days
all knock knees and glue.
No grit.
My dreams of rotten teeth
and harnesses
that cut
will flock to perch
all dark and angry
over sleep.

Suspiciously one like another,
to tussle with
on a good day that WILL go bad,
moves and marks,
benches, parks
and me.

Thames

Oh it’s time for dizzy days
In:
the breath remembers
the guts rip newly
plastic floats
in caps and caps
on the shallow shore
of the Thames

Dizzy days
Out:
almost time to make
the escape
from one the entrance
in the other.
Splits the middle,
opens wide
the tide, the sling,
slips, the gulls
that fall, the
boats dock
restless in the
shallow water
of the Thames.

Oh it’s almost time
and I’m in
and out.

My Orchard

Someone else
was there
before me
before I could get in
before I could arrive
before I existed
before my chance
someone was there.
The golden apple
the prize
was stolen.
And I am left
the orchard.

Monument

Build a monument
of stones
Piled loose and jagged
one onanother.

Set flowers,
all little Yellow
~Some call them Gold~
into places
where rocks
can close lock hands.

Hold me
here
onthisplace.

Anchor
these things
with oil
smooth, touchanddrip.
armsandlegs
and Souls far far far away.

Set to me A Flame
whose honeyed hands
and soft dove voice
break all my resistance down.

Me, this pool of blood,
your human domain,
your sacrifice of
Flesh and Bone.
I’ll be your first born,
foundling, amateur,
disgrace,
your sacred wrong
broken down
upon this place
this
mountainside
of stone.

Poem

Poetry belongs in a room all alone
Poets under the bed
And poems the very minute they're written
Should be locked in a dresser unread.

Apple Ate

I apple ate for
winter time
festive red lit cheeks and
amber cores for eyes,
burning coals,
carol cries.

I apple ate for
harvest time
blue moon sank beneath
my window's wink
jumping dish
& fiddle dog
leapt to laugh to see to sport.

I apple ate for
summer time
winking sun
and daisy rope
chained unchained
hanging.

I apple ate for
early may
or was it april
disheveled
alone, unmade
untold
my apples eaten,
unripe and rotten
on the ground.

Bricks

Bricks
once falling
can stop their
progress
with a mound of dirt
a tree
grass, a tail,
or a head.

Here we go,

falling

falling


falling



trying to miss the
fragile things.

We are

two warriors
met on even ground
strong shields
to cover
blades to strike down.
Together
we decided
to destroy these artifacts
of war.
First we destroyed
my shield
and then my blade.
Can you
now deny me yours?

Little Wet

Mother's visiting
and I can't see my feet.
Left foot, then right.
There's juice in the fridge, she says,
If you need it.
Her sad sideways look
when she sits here visiting.
I shift in my gown,
in my hospitalChair.
Mother with her raincoat
sitting,
saying,
It's a little wet.

Intrinsic To Space

The whole glide by night
frame of the universe
the action-revealing distance
of west to east
is all in the eye of the dime-store lens.
We sit on coincidal grasses
laughing
taking turns to look
in passes
at the sky that binds the
far and near horizon.

I look to the moon
and you
to see reflected light.

Able-Bodied

Choose the hyphen or the rose
choose the right man or the beaus
the ease of war
the laugh from shore
and every day it grows.
Resurrected Catalyst
the fist of fury
through the mist
Broken hero choked in doubt,
"It wasn't me who drove them out!
It wasn't me she kissed."
There's a shilling in the sun
It burns and burns
the last of none
While ragweed lays in piles undone
and I am left the only one
the Able-Bodied Mare.

If, I

by pressing you close
to me, could
make you
understand the
twigs of all the
forest
that I am
I would.

The Plan

I counted all the
abrasions
and the cuts,
bruises, tears,
dents
that you left
so that at our next
tender meeting
you could bandage me.