Thursday, December 31, 2009

can i say

can i say
"your mind's
mind boggling"
without sounding
as though
i'm stuttering?

well, i just did
and it did sound
as if i was
yet i do believe
it is
while mine's been.

can i say

and now you die. good

and now you die. good
riddance might be apt but
i don't have the heart. so
chisel your way deep
to be uncovered
when your tongue has turned to dust,
are lacking leather bindings,
tabulated alternatives are lost.
but your child lives,
i shall attend to all its nascent needs
as i ever am to prospect--
to all sanguine shimmer.

and now you die. good

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

one for her

one for her,
one for him,
a pair
in order
to swim,
the central two
for you
know who.

one for her

Poseidon became

Poseidon became
an adventure
and Prometheus is now
a lab,
Orion was a studio,
an opera
before that.
Minerva is
the inventor
of music, she's also poetry's
virgin goddess
even now. an Oracle
has morphed
into a utilitarian
database, and yes,
can mistakenly
be thought Armenian
he was not, yet in eighty-one
we acknowledge him
of our land.

Poseidon became

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

you sit in my shirt

you sit in my shirt
pocket with other
instruments i carry,

next to my heart.
short sleeved,

a stubby tie. horn
rimmed, argyle socked.

protruding, pomade slicked
hair with little freckles
by one eye.

when i go to Staples tomorrow
wing tipped and slacked

i will buy, in your honor,
a new leather

you sit in my shirt

for what's in a buck but the sweat

(a revised variation of a prior post
with a note of thanks to all who helped,
'thank you my friends'.)

for what's in a buck but the sweat
of buyer and purveyor alike, bill-folded
otherwise denominated?

actors act
characters sweet or vile
while agents are paid characteristically well

beyond sustenance’s minimal mandate,
when exchanged pound for pound they come out
ahead and then

buyers are mere bargain hunters, the cheaper
the better is what they tell themselves
as they pound

pavements while sellers net
in hand make advances for wares arrayed
in ways nefarious or transparent
only in semblance.

rust cannot be

rust cannot be
undone but simply

it's a matter
of timing
and circumstance.

yes, the sooner
the better,
you guessed it.

rust cannot be

and you, my breeze,

and you, my breeze,
will you one day
soar with me?

what pray tell

what pray tell
are last throes?

this is no insurgency
you know. although

today, it might as well
be so.

Monday, December 28, 2009

although bravado's memory is said to be faulty

although bravado's memory is said to be faulty
except for when there is phlegm in its eye
so too when pet slop's smeared on the face,
splattered on ceilings left to rot then dry.
i know, i know, once Borg always one,
as they say, resistance is you know what.
what's equally true is escapees won't track-back
except in nightmares morose and black
save for the sake of endangered lives
but never for a fuck nor an alien form of love
unlike refugees who occasionally do,
escapees won't, particularly the reviled,
numbered and tattooed or maligned.

although bravado's memory is said to be faulty

Sunday, December 27, 2009

all they'd find is a smoldering mound of ash and coal

all they'd find is a smoldering mound of ash and coal
and a heady, lingering pungent scent
of our combusted love

(spots of my pearl-ivory cum mixed-in with sweat,
goddess drizzle from you as well, this is all
they will detect).

by then we would have sparked, turned into light,
sun-spot bright, streaking clear across
to the other side, still entwined,

risen high above the clouds locked in lust's embrace
a tantric position improbable, hard to explain --
glowing red-hot almost white.

your storm blown hair, vine-wrapped around our forms,
tentacle shaped, spun firmly around our hips, our necks.
lips locked upon lips,

hard plunged my glowing cock - a lightning strike
deep inside your pulsating cunt, itself torrid and volcanic,
as if flowing with lava and honey, molten hot.

we swirled and spun near the speed of light, a funnel cloud,
up and up we spiraled until we finally stalled --
lay there weightless for a moment,

completely still then into a shallow dive,
a slow tumble, head over tail,
a vertigo elevator ride, back down and down

picking up speed as we went, air rushing urgently
across our backs, whistling through our hair,
leaving contrails as we fell, silver-white through the air.

we screech-dove, kamikaze-style, then bull's eye --
an ocean plunge, we hit the surface -- splat and shattered,
burst out loud,

turned into hissing steam then into cloud, we vaporized
then rose up once again
as a mushroom cloud.

soon we fell back down, a fine mist then hard pounding rain,
torrential yet warm and tropical, we gushed for a while
until we barely flowed. finally spent and dead

yet apparently content.

all they'd find is a smoldering mound of ash and coal

(imagined and sketched during
a boring professional conference.

possibly a signal to consider a career change?
all comments welcomed also in that regard.)

i store the extracts

i store the extracts
you send in crystal bottles
embossed with Crosses
of Lorraine. i have also hidden
double daggers along
with sheathes and belts fit
to wear while crossing
frozen tundras
and the ice deserts ahead.

next, i shall decide on clothing,
starting with the layer
closest to our skins.
to be sure to be kept driest
i will select moisture-wicking
polypropylene. the next layer,
for warmth, lamb's wool will be
my choice. for the final,
the windbreaker, it will be
down filled coats.

extremely well
insulated winter boots
are also a must.
truth be told
i do not recall
your shoe size anymore.
remind me of this
the next time
you write me, please.

today, i practice cutting
perfectly round holes
for fishing in the ice,
deep and chiseled clean
as i also prepare diamond
tipped steel hooks and nets
made of spider-spun silk rope
for scooping and landing
more reliably than doing so
in our bare hands.

all this said
we still need to select
our point of departure and
the day on the calendar,
we also need to settle on
the ultimate destination.
please advise by month's end next.
until then, as always, i stay

P.S. we also should
discuss matters related
to shelter, as you might
imagine there remain a few
questions to be addressed.

i store the extracts

twenty and ten although

twenty and ten although
numerically pleasing
so too transformative
if adamantly converted
in certain steps unwavering.
the alternative,
patricide, blatant
assassination, your own
by your own
inertia or hand;
subtracted all censure
and sermon
if you don't mind.

twenty and ten although

Saturday, December 26, 2009

i've looked intently

i've looked intently
at the foot prints
you left in the snow,
measured them with instruments,
metric and standard alike.

tomorrow, in the morning,
if they are still present,
i will make casts of them
using plaster of Paris
or is it of Venice, i forget.

later on, when they have set,
i shall put on a curator's hat
and use my jeweler’s loop
in order to scrutinize them
even further.

frankly speaking, i'm not
completely certain yet
what i should be looking for
nor what i might
unexpectedly discover.

i've looked intently

today is a fitting day to contemplate

today is a fitting day to contemplate
Henry Miller and why
any of his books could have been banned
in an attempt to understand
the world i have lived in
and apparently still do,
notwithstanding the sizes
or the number of holes hitherto accrued
or yet to be found.

today is a fitting day to contemplate

Friday, December 25, 2009

speaking of them

speaking of them --

best friends,
so too
brilliant forms

of certain subjugation,
or else

circumstantially inflicted
even if self-imposed,
made habitual --

yet understandably cogent,
the ways of the afflicted,

anything but those of the
hopelessly addicted,
i know

they are.
striving for remedy
otherwise blinded

by their intoxicating glare
therefore unwittingly ensnared --
thus set

to be virtually
if junkie or votary.

speaking of them --

Thursday, December 24, 2009

on this Christmas Eve

on this Christmas Eve
although replete
with serenity and peace
it would be blatantly false to surmise
nothing's amiss for those somewhat torn
and thus remiss,
devoid of hands given or held
so too lips not kissed fervid nor ardent
or even simply with tenderest love
for such is their life
this day or otherwise one
less sacred or exalted
and yet it shall continue to be lived
plainly and enjoyed, not simply

on this Christmas Eve

done carefully, sweet

done carefully, sweet
yet somewhat salty
slightly bitter on the tongue
as mahlab is
from an ancient land
thoroughly blended
yet sophisticated
is what you are
to me.

i knead you slow
and deliberate, head to toe
when you lay there, face down
and bare.
palm roll your pale cream-colored skin
from shoulders
to the tips
of your delicate limbs, and hair,
long and thin, glistening
drip drizzled
in exotic oils
kept in bottles of crystal, crowned
in sandalwood and gold.

i snap you, double you over
lay you flat on your back.
rope spun
then double crossed
hips, ankles and thighs
then blown
in heated breath
coal-fired crimson blast
across your entire undulated form
making you blush
and flush,
first rose
then red,
later amber-bronze then pale again
as it dissipates.

i shall hold you firm in my hands,
raise you to my hungry lips,
in a french kiss,
circle-roll my tongue
as i take small bites
and kitten-laps
i sample and taste then swallow
your very essence,
with a squint
in my eyes and bated breath.

i will remember your aftertaste
all day
and still tomorrow

done carefully, sweet

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

it may be time to light

it may be time to light
a clutch, set adrift, scroll laden
feather light, tiny of vellum
velvet wrapped, compartments sealed
then waxed water tight,
illuminated silver or golden, inscribed
in scripts from lands distant
almost forgotten
songs of times perhaps to arrive
thus presently begotten.

it may be time to light

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

and its mouth never stopped

and its mouth never stopped
beating not even when held
edgewise, otherwise its heart
might have done that, i suppose
it was the wisest thing to do --
innocently bleating while
fidgeting and grinning
all the way though.

and its mouth never stopped

Monday, December 21, 2009

yes, we were the first to adopt and

yes, we were the first to adopt and
as specimen in a surprise encounter
though somewhat road-weary and caked
in mud from the Rift and the San Andreas
with the dousing of a warm summer rain,
wind-dried on a line in the Golden State
or else laundered by hand in ancestral ways
on a rock by a river's bank i suppose
i could and i might represent us well
as you might imagine first of a kind
and one of a kind do not tend to repel
with polarities set accordingly well by
the acquainted with the nature of faults.

yes, we were the first to adopt and

there are only three categories i suppose

there are only three categories i suppose
the lead, the last and the rest.

today i cannot tell you which feels best
as role and the funny thing is

the number of medals one sports, though perfectly round
and gleaming, have no bearing

as to placement or the manner of standing or falling,
all are subject to the whims of the one

preceding save the one who is either pushed
or is coaxed into tipping

thus ending one and beginning another
state of being.

there are only three categories i suppose

scaling is said to be dangerous

scaling is said to be dangerous
when done with abandon,
without sufficient care
and preparation,
whether a fish or a mountain.

doing one may slice a hand,
the other, break an ankle.
i'm left to wonder which of them
is deemed statistically more fatal--
death by bleeding or broken bone?

scaling is said to be dangerous

remember FDR; not "when the going gets tough ..."

remember FDR; not "when the going gets tough ..."
blah, blah, blah, but the other. "Persist" is the name
of the new favorite board game. it's all the rage
over here, have you played it yet? one of the clues in it
is what Spoke said before he perished temporarily
until the very next installment aired. even he could not go
through with it, if you can believe that, it's insane. i know
i couldn't, even though sometimes it might not seem so.

remember FDR; not "when the going gets tough ..."

Sunday, December 20, 2009

all attempts to compartmentalize

all attempts to compartmentalize
will fail, eventually,

so too attempts to precisely change that which
shall or shall not be

for aren't we all just part of the one realm,
dots in time and space

where cause and effect are transcendent
thus slaves

to fragmentary perturbations in the present
so too the later-on or the then,

meaning, when we have long been
or might yet be?

isn't time (although imagined) after all linear
and time travel -- quaint,

except for those who dwell above it,
not in it?

we are then either players or pieces played
each within their own domain.

all attempts to compartmentalize

for when you're feeling amber-gold

for when you're feeling amber-gold
with a subtle touch of tyrian purple
or red-violet as it's ordinarily called
though certainly not a common pearl
a fitting ornamental color and form
set upon an intricate golden frame;
at other times when crystalline or
when light is reflected off the moon,
silver and diamond, tipped in black,
arched sole yet delicately supported
dabbed with the aroma from a small café
after midnight where amber colored candles,
dipped in sandalwood oil lit the night.

for when you're feeling amber-gold

Saturday, December 19, 2009

speaking of board games

speaking of board games
let me tell you
which ones i fancy.

snakes and ladders, a long time favorite
(chutes if you must),
as a kid: apples to apples,
candy land.

later on scrabble, checkers and chess
also trouble and sorry.
now cranium, sometimes,
trivial pursuits -- rarely.

i should tell you
that i play backgammon
as i always have.

othello of course,
so too

now mostly risk,
and clue

once again.

speaking of board games

archeology straddles art

archeology straddles art
and science alike.

art may be found if lost and
forgotten science as well

if done within the scientific method
but also, good fortune plays a hand

notwithstanding digger's credential
or educational level

regardless of the merits of the site,
chosen or otherwise stumbled upon.

however, madness certainly persists
found art or not.

archeology straddles art

Friday, December 18, 2009

icons stay and nay

icons stay and nay
to notions of servitude,
his is his today's queen
empress if she wills tomorrow.
on bended knee head hung low
otherwise rode a winged foal
of a pair sound beaten as one
impossible so to unwind a heart
nor a mind in deed nor want neither
desire nor in attitude diminished
tilted not steep toward faded black
but for some nether slung intrusion
by god of doom or prey as imagined.
for love is love plain after all his
categorically hers whole and sole
and they the breeze possessed thus blown
above all mild, swung fearsome on call.

icons stay and nay

Thursday, December 17, 2009

all good offers stand their ground

all good offers stand their ground
a chance meeting a chance besides
not a tale begun at story’s end
splayed over layered twice then again
once frayed or snapped so now repaired
spliced and knotted here and there
spun bobbin style when begun over
wrapped or bare a tale if so by chance
or offered circumstance when given
so taken either stopped or not
first right then left contingent on
one's story line from the start
or the middle-on raveled now unwound
certainly not by chance nor declared happenstance
all that did begin will spin and spout while
nightmare ends turn relentless till time immemorial.

all good offers stand their ground

'tomorrow let's try it laterally'

'tomorrow let's try it laterally'
he said with some hesitation
then he realized what he'd done
'or maybe we'll do it kneeling down?'
well that too went over like a charm,
you can imagine how he was feeling then.
'whichever way you would prefer my love,
it is up to you, you know, the next time,
as you can see, today i'm out of it',
when he said this a smile flashed on her face.
'just shush, will you , you're doing just fine --
we'll talk about it when we're done', she said
as she leaned forward and picked up the pace
whereas him, all he could do was to frown.

'tomorrow let's try it laterally'

let us consider

let us consider
manners of running,
away or otherwise

if a horse,
there's the gallop
the simpler form -- the trot.

(if Icelandic
the tolt
properly spelt
with an umlaut.)

the beeline is one
the getaway another
both can be done
in more than one manner.

one can hurdle,
or dash,
dart, sprint
or just bolt out.

when going to battle,
the charge
the hightail
to get the hell out.

in suburbia
one jogs
in street talk
splits or simply jams.

classically speaking
to lope
when waxing poetic --

on familiar soil
or foreign ground.
in the street,
or in the park

shod in fine leather
or basic stockings
with premeditation
or not

running is running --
to, from or away
we all seem to be doing it

let us consider

Monday, December 14, 2009

the house you live in

the house you live in,
made of basement and attic alone,
is no different than one

i built and destroyed in exchange for this:
with bent wood banister,
no stairs but a second floor.

yours might have no door
while mine has neither floor
nor wall.

the house you live in

Sunday, December 13, 2009

T. L. S. [4]

I have been hired to suppress
the rebellion of yet another
tribal leader.

Apparently, this is the only job
for which I am suited.

I am beset by the ironies of my life.

From the wonderful script
by by John Logan
with revisions by Edward Zwick &
Marshall Herskovitz.

This is lifted directly from the script,
slightly reformatted here. There are
many other gems in it. A delight.
Thank you.

you describe yourself well, i get it

you describe yourself well, i get it --
you are what you say you are.

but what of the other? the one which makes you so --
the colors, scents, symbols, metaphors?

you might try to remove yourself for once
from the canvass; maybe attempt a portrait.

after all portraiture is an immensely delicate art,
it tells me what you see -- perhaps what's in your heart.

try it -- even though it might be hard
for you to do so.

you describe yourself well, i get it

xx-th of xxxxxxxx, xxxx

xx-th of xxxxxxxx, xxxx
xxxx xx xxxxxxx

my dearest,

our journey has almost begun.

monday at dawn we board. we will set sail through the narrows and head along the protected waters of the seaboard slowly making our way north.

i am filled with great anticipation as i sit here thinking ahead. i have hardly slept for three nights now.

i suspect at first we will stay close to shore, near enough to be able to see towns perched high on distant hills, smoke rising up to the sky from small fishing villages which dot the shoreline over here. it should be smooth sailing and serene.

this until we veer directly offshore two or three days hence and then turn due north once again cutting a more deliberate line as we settle into the first long leg of our passage headed your way.

i know from that point on we will be at the mercy of good fortune himself in regards to the weather and conditions at sea. i so detest open sea voyages, as you well know dearest - i can feel my face turn gray as i think of this even now.

this journey, which we have put off oh, so many times, is not one i consider to be the crowning event of my lifetime but the thought of the final destination, especially the fact that it will mean we will be together at long last, makes it such that i would endure those hardships willingly many times over.

i am now beside myself as i envisage this eventual outcome, i flush -- i have missed you immensely my dearest, more than you can imagine.

i will now post this letter as i give you my word that i shall write more while on board - the first installment of which i will dispatch at our first landfall a month or so from today.

goodbye for now my love, wish us well. wish us fair winds and fair skies from now till the end -- we will need them both i am certain of this.

i send you my heart felt love and every good sentiment possible along with even more if you will accept them.

i stay yours alone
as alone i stay
till then my love,

T. L. S. [3]

This marks the longest I have stayed in one place
since I left home
at seventeen.

There is so much here
that I will never understand.

I have never been a church-going man.

what I have seen on the field of battle
has led me to question
God's purpose.

there is indeed
something spiritual in this place.

And though
it may forever be obscure to me,
I cannot but be aware of its power.

I do know
it is here
that I have known my first untroubled sleep

in many years.

From the wonderful script
by by John Logan
with revisions by Edward Zwick &
Marshall Herskovitz.

This is lifted directly from the script,
slightly reformatted here. There are
many other gems in it. A delight.
Thank you.

T. L. S. [2]

I continue to live among these
extraordinary people.

They seem to value nothing
more than their families, and yet
they kill defenseless wounded men
without a shade of remorse.

From the moment they wake,
they devote themselves to the perfection
of whatever they pursue --
I have never seen such discipline.

And yet
I am confounded
by their contradictions,
savagery followed by mildness.

Everyone is polite,
every nuance of behavior
seems to have great meaning --

And yet I keep offending.

From the wonderful script
by by John Logan
with revisions by Edward Zwick &
Marshall Herskovitz.

This is lifted directly from the script,
slightly reformatted here. There are
many other gems in it. A delight.
Thank you.

T. L. S. [1]

First you need to grab a handful of hair
and give it a quick jerk
in order to loosen the skin.

Then you saw the scalp off a little at a time
because the blades are usually dull
and the skin doesn't come off all at once.

The problem is getting enough leverage
when your hands are bloody —
and slick.

And, of course,
the person being scalped
is generally still alive and screaming,

so a knee in the back
tends to quiet them down
and give you the purchase you need

to finish the job.

From the wonderful script
by by John Logan
with revisions by Edward Zwick &
Marshall Herskovitz.

This is lifted directly from the script,
slightly reformatted here. There are
many other gems in it. A delight.
Thank you.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

the meal is prepared, the bread

the meal is prepared, the bread
is baked and stacked, the wine
is breathing as we speak. the fire's
lit, the table is set, the butler's
gone for the night. the lights
are dimmed, the curtains are drawn
and the candles are ready to burn.
the cat is asleep on the bed keeping
your side warm. the covers are drawn
and still i'm sitting here sure that
you know the drill so just get
your sweat behind home before
i begin without you, you hear?

the meal is prepared, the bread

i'm not an asset

i'm not an asset
you can buy

an insurance policy
to cover

you losses with. if i die
you've killed me —

you loose,
that's it.

i'm not an asset

for what's in a bill

for what's in a bill
but the sweat
of buyer and purveyor
folded or
otherwise denominated?

actors act
characters sweet or vile
on the other hand are paid

beyond sustenance’s minimal
when exchanged
pound for pound
they come out ahead and then some

while buyers
are mere bargain hunters
the cheaper
the better
is what they tell themselves

as they pound

for what's in a bill

go to post-production

go to post-production
when shooting completes.

insert random sequences
from recurring dreams,
splice beginnings to endings
cut out middle scenes.

remaster the soundtrack
squelching echo and hint,
hold still a memorable frame
use sepia filter then print.

safeguard the originals
store cans in double vaults,
escort guests to screenings
serve bagels and locks.

when the crowd departs, stand –
start over again.

go to post-production

the thing about rabbits in the wild

the thing about rabbits in the wild –
we have them over here.
they come and graze in the cool of the afternoon shade,
in the yard.

when you startle them
they run, but not far,
then, they stop, glance back
as if to say 'i'm scared –

you gave me a start.
i'm curious, although i now hide, i'd rather be there
in the shade –
in your back yard'.

the thing about rabbits in the wild

Friday, December 11, 2009

of the thousand and one the easiest to conjure

of the thousand and one the easiest to conjure
must have been the first and the last one.

i suspect the others were excruciatingly harder
to devise and to set while maintaining freshness there after

still replete with surprising twists and turns
not telling all, casting expectations

so to be requited tomorrow if at all.
singular, i am in awe of your creations

as well your infinite grace —
mesmerizing and timeless.

of the thousand and one the easiest to conjure

now at once you want to, this is what you said

now at once you want to, this is what you said,
even though my pleadings were lucid and incessant.

is it because others apprised that it was wise?
although i'm glad for this i am also sad at once.

maybe i should whisper in their ears from here
this way to yours, notions will in fact be theirs

not mine, when you give them weight and consideration
could this be a smoother path to discourse or writ,

otherwise in reticence will we stay as such,
snarled - ever mired in viscid distrust?

now at once you want to, this is what you said

Thursday, December 10, 2009

sure, a mother dotes over her newborn

sure, a mother dotes over her newborn,
how can she not? but her love for the others
is not diminished by that.

even once they are grown and have moved on
they still are and will forever be her only one,
each of them with no exception.

yet, while an infant, she gives one her complete attention,
her very heart - this is why we each feel we were
the one she favored.

are mothers tricksters or charlatans then?
certainly not - this is because mother's love is
unlike its kindred strains.

sure, a mother dotes over her newborn

was it not choice when i did not

was it not choice when i did not
as much as it was if i did so opt?

to choose not to is in fact
as deliberate as the very act.

today the question for me is not
whether or not i should

but to resolve only the how
preferably right now.

was it not choice when i did not

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

today i shall visit the wise men here in town

today i shall visit the wise men here in town
they were passing through and to my surprise
they granted my request to see them; i am prepared —
gifts in hand i go, i take my scroll with the list
i wrote in cuneiform; i will read from it to them
simple queries of what has been and what is here
and a pair regarding what will soon come as well.
i will let you know if i may what they have to say
in particular those things they chose not to tell.

today i shall visit the wise men here in town

Monday, December 7, 2009

today i firmly surrender to doubt

today i firmly surrender to doubt
but tomorrow i will be resolute

equivocally so; confident
yet not quite certain of my resolve

i'm sure, no doubt about it, i think,
i mean, tomorrow, or should it be today?

today i firmly surrender to doubt