Some Poetry

Although certainly no poet, I've dabbled in some verse over the years. Here are a few poems (intentionally undated) for your entertainment, dear reader... 

time

to cover over
sound,
to strike the chord
of an old city,

to heap the
wave over heel,
to tangle the structure
of nettle

blind to history.
blind to time.
blind even to the myths
that make us

to surface above
the sheen, to take time
in hand and
feel it flower

frozen blade

scraping and clicking are
really only movement’s
mutters controlling.

“without friction,” you hear them say,
“there can be no story.”

but friction bakes meager bread,
and you are smooth, pushing
against air.

and your fine eyes,
your bright hair,
your laughter.

full

cross my skull with a capital script,
take the ear from the circle,
open the lip to the blood.

all exhortations, and nothing
for her.

how uncomfortable.
how dreary.

the box was cold, hot to you,
accreting fragmentae into concentric
compressions, the chambers beating my
boredom to tears.

look away, you.

wave your hand and
crank the shatters into blood.

x

nothing makes a
difference,
awake

i make her laugh.
and the dogs strike
with force, living
accurately,

which was too much
for us to take

beyond what we would,
ordinarily, require

long hallways

long hallways,
hollow doors
closing softly
against the
vast expanse of
space

would

all these mules slump down
to die across their desks,
still chewing wet paper
cut by two percent.

wave a hand
and toss a smile
and slide system four.

skip away,
watch them eating gourmet
and snickering on their hoard,
sweating the money.

secret bones flutter

secret bones flutter in the chest egg,
storing up riches for pouring out wind.

the scribe perfumes feet that run to laughter
and slaughter, while the wealthy rest.

osiris drinks from the pointed font,
measuring the blackness of the pitch,

while cupid carves notches in the surface
of oil, while psyche shimmies up the yew,

while agamemnon cries for ears to hear
his own sorrow, while brutus springs

into his own arms, catches himself in the act,
and fights half the battle by drinking his fill.