Thursday, March 30, 2017

Anteros

Ebb and  flow throughout my short life!
Why must time be categorized,
organized,
led away
into our minds?
Are you and I not one

in the same day?
Do we not exist,
but for the love and beauty
of all things?

Are there not an finite amount of sunsets
(glories of life)
in the course of a day?
Can we not visualize our purpose unless
it has a deadline?

Closing my eyes,
the clock stops its tick-tocking;
the cars stop their honk-honking; but
my heart continues beat-beating.

In the darkness of my mind,
time is eternal, it is pure and is made
from my blood and tears.
Time does not exist

for every atom in my body
(My body, my soul
does not move back and forth.)
In sleep, all things are peaceful,
eternal,
pure.

In death,
the ebb and
ow will stop,
and all that will remain
is love
(a love for all things beautiful.)

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Tea

The teabag bleeds into
the hot water,
slowly oozing its nectar,
like a deep, red wound,
red river (split in two),
darkening{becoming pungent.
Hot blood in my coffee cup,
just below boiling point.
Who has wounded you?
Are the ripe, red strawberries
in my cereal your brethren?
Bobbing up and down,
the blood continues
without cries of pain
or shock.
I feel sadistic,
watching my tea bleed,
waiting to drink from its cup
as though ritualistically sacrificing
the adored lamb, waiting for its mystic
blood to collect in some holy, tin cup.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Jared

While balancing an orange on round Tupperware,
its lid blue, stained with red chili,
I think of Jared and how he still sucks his thumb.
He's nearly six

and once his lips pressed
around the knuckle, creating a tight seal,
he lapses into infantile reality.
It happens so easily,

how we can lapse into childhood or childlike states
of mind.  I wonder what he thinks of:
whether he was breast-fed or bottle-fed,
whether he nursed for long?

He's a stubborn, whiny child,
but so are most adults.
Where can you draw a line;
separate cognitions; mark the maturity levels?

As a teacher, I can't make
him stop.  I'm not behavioristic and
he is not a Pavlovian dog.
I wonder if he feels

his mother's breast
pressed up against his cheeks,
her hard nipple squeezed in his gums
providing him comfort, security, milk.

Or maybe he feels the rubber nipple,
soft and elastic, strangled by his gums
providing him comfort, security, grainy, sticky formula.
Maybe he doesn't think at all.

No matter;
for if I push my orange
it will fall and roll onto the floor.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Matera

Take me out of this moment,
this place in time, and
invite me to your home,
smooth and quiet.
We can take my boat and

float down this milky-white river
and pass the rows of yellow tulips.
I will speak to the raven
overhead and ask him to fi nd me.

Take me to your cobbled streets,
and show me wide buildings
crowding the shops. Let me

sit in the cool corner
under forgiving basil plants.
I want to smell of mint and basil,
so let me bathe in Romanesque sun.

I can feel us nearing
the bright, green clearing, malve growing in Santa Lucia;
smelling the stones
of the short, wide homes.
I can see the raven calling
and the rain falling.

I am here;
we are near;
I do not fear
anything.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Nyx

Running toward the blackened horizon,
the sky is nice and big tonight.
I see shadowed mountains
wrapped in the space of the night.
I feel warm here;
waiting to envelop the night and hug the sky.
There are plenty of stars
shining on me,
so I extend my arms and reach outward
until the smell of the evening lingers on my
fingertips.

Saturday, March 25, 2017

On Death

Part I

I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind--and that of the minds who suffer the bereavement.
Dr Peabody--As I Lay Dying

eldest son

Son, she's dying..
Mom's dying.
I knew,
somehow.
The Stillness:
cold, quiet;
There is nothing,
and I felt it.
Moments before,
it was clear.
(The pounding, crashing sound
rips me from it…)
I knew,
somehow.

father

We're going to beat this thing.
I don't fail.
I cannot fail.
I'm not going to lose;
I can fix this thing.
You gotta be smarter than the…the…
renal cell carcinoma.


eldest son

Months before
Weeks before
Days before
moments before
I knew.

youngest son

Mom's sick,
in bed
sick
smells funny
(I don't like her smell)
Does it hurt, Mom?
No, sweetie, I'm just tired.
Go to sleep, Mom.

eldest son

I fall to the ground;
my legs do not bend.
I crash;
my head
slams me down;
I cannot move.
Weeping, weeping, weeping:
no tears will fall.
I can't talk.
How long?
(The voice; sound
stabs me).
Six months…maybe less.
I'll drive down.
I'll see her.
I will stay with her.

Part II

It's because I'm alone. If I could just feel it, it would be different, because I would not be alone.
Dewey Dell--As I Lay Dying

middle son

I hate you!
I fucking HATE you!
How can you do this to me?
You've always hated me;
now you’re dying?
Fuck no!
Hell no!
I don't need you,
just go,
leave me alone.
Stupid bitch!
Goddamn you!
Goddamn it!
You never loved me,
liked me.
Just leave;
I don't need you.

father

You don't know; you fucking doctors
don't know crap…how to fix this!
We're going to beat this thing,
Toni.
Don't leave me
with these kids…
are my life.
This house is yours.
These kids are yours.
renal cell carcinoma
yours.
Mom's gonna be just fine.
Don't worry,
we're going to beat this thing.
Don't you damn doctors know
how to beat this thing?!
Worse?

youngest son

mom's breathing
breathing
the tubes are breathing
looks funny
(mom looks scary)
Mom, can I go to play?
Sure you can.

eldest son

How's she doing?
Ok…not good.
How long?
A month…maybe less.

middle son

I can't do it
not going
hate hospitals
NO GODDAMN IT!
not going
can't

father

I can't do it
anymore.
It's a poison:
toxic.
I can't do it
anymore.


eldest son

I got class:
school.
I can drive away,
cross the line
into
no death
no cancer
no.
I got class:
homework
a test
finals
I'll drive down this weekend.

youngest son

her hands are cold:
white
like bones
Mom, cover up with a blanket.
Mom is wet,
her forehead is wet.
Here's a towel, Mom.

eldest son

I'm tired,
waiting.
The painful lights
strike me down,
strike down my skin:
numb.
I'm tired,
numb,
waiting.
I've got school tomorrow.
This must be hard,
difficult
for Ellen.
I'm sorry, honey.
Sorry.
I love you, Mom.
Love you.

mother

I'm so ugly
feel sick.
I'm tired
of being
not ready.
Ed, be a good father:
be around.
Stop working so much
and be a father.
I'll take care of it;
my family is my life.
I'm sorry.
Eddie, you be a good boy
for your father, and
listen to your brothers,
especially Adrian.
Be a good boy
good boy,
Son.
I love you:
take care of my sons.
I love you,
you're my number one son.
Be a good son, Tyson,
for your father.
Don't cause trouble
Be a good son,
good son.
Tyson,
I love you.
I love you, too, Mom.
(I hate you)
I love you, Tyson.

eldest son

The stillness
remains behind
after we have left,
she's left
us.
There is nothing.
I notice the badly-decorated walls,
ugly,
so ugly.

father

I'm not ready yet, guys.
I can't do it.
I just feel close to her.
I can't.
It's only been a year,
give me more time.
I can't do it.
I'll take care of it.

middle son

Dear Mom,
I didn't want to
hate you.
Didn't want.
I miss you.
I love you,
always;
no matter
what was said,
you said.
I will love you.
I will miss you.


father

I just don't feel anything
for women.
nothing.
I'm just so depressed.
depression, depressed, depression.
sadness.
I'm just so down.
I can't imagine myself
with another woman.

Part III

I heard my mother is dead. I wish I had time to let her die. I wish I had time to wish I had. It is because the wild and outraged earth too soon too soon too soon. It's not that I wouldn't and will not it's that it is too soon too soon too soon.
Dewey Dell--As I Lay Dying

middle son

I'm just so depressed.
I'm just so down.
I wanted to be close
to know
you liked me.
I never felt, knew
before.
I know now.
I will love you.
I will miss you.


father

I miss your mother…so much.
depression
I'll take care of it.

eldest son

I knew,
somehow.
I knew there would be
nothing
within these walls,
this room:
cold, quiet.
I feel it
again…
moments before,
forever after.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Solemn Aspirations

solemn aspirations
dwell: statues
in thought.
The light is found
preserved
from centuries of
hate
patiently seeking
the meaning.