Gazer

Droning,
i am a smooth transition
from high to low
with a cool admonition
that this night has slowed

i am drums
i am distorted electric guitars
i am reverb
i am delay
who are...

a voice
recalls a calm entity
that somehow
falters in its approach
and she, yes she, spins
arms akimbo
chin skyward
tears streaming
silent
tired
leaving

but

i am echo
i am hum
i am no more love
i am dumb

so spin will you
spin will you please
spin
spinner
with your hands
describing an arc
that shimmers free

wintered
weathered
worried
i am kneed
i am grounded
i am floated
i am leaving
and i can do this because
the reverb calls
as the tremolo falls
and the drummer halts
starts again
delays
fades out
fades in

and then she calls
again
her voice a flute
warning me
this beauty i seek
can burn me
turn me
cold
i will be not human
and the others will not
want to let me go
because the piece i scored
was a peace they adored

nonetheless
i am particles of sound
i am waves of distinction
i am forgotten so soon
i am
have always been

alone

have always been
happiest

alone

so radiate fade
radiate glow
grow
radiate hide
radiate ride this night for all it’s worth
and for what it’s worth, gazer,
this night has slowed.

Come

A lightning
travels
from point to
point

illuminating a hand
reaching
for a silver
handle

straining, an ailing back
arches
to compensate for
loose waves of electricity
now moving about
freely

but there is a slight
moaning
a constant droning
a lo-fi hum
a kind of slow hand
on a warm
drum

and there is a body
calling
from a cradle
curdling
and fifty billion reasons
why i can’t love you
even as you come away reeling.

Some damaged

Disconnect the dots
to find the exact moment
when the damage began

close my eyes
count to ten
again
and…

i’m there now,
hovering above you
watching you, all curled up,
an egg rocking back and forth
in a little human’s place of
slumber

and a reflection caught
in a dry section of window pane
speaks the truth
where a figure glides by
goes not escaping into the wet night
but instead, to the warm embrace of
indifference

i am there now
beside you
holding you
though not touching you
watching new worlds
explode in tears that have
no voice

and through that slow window
i allow my self to flow
only turning back once
in hopes that
there shining in the darkness
some damaged
should know
that often from spoiled beginnings
a new, more compelling, kind of flower
may grow.

Surely is not a name

They sound like alarms going off or a pair of tennis shoes rolling around in a dryer or something, i’m not quite sure to tell you the truth - it does seem they don’t break easily, though, so don’t worry, and remember the longest one, well, just try not to draw it, for the roads today are full of grey faces, and i, beneath a violent lantern, laugh to myself, so much so that my teeth abruptly fall to the floor, a ceramic sort of floor, a balancing act between breaking above asphalt upon which my brothers and sisters sweat silent morphemes, or better yet, a few transitory moments of non-sound feigning meaning that went, 'had i known you ten years before, i could have held you with no shame, but the coolness in this thin air reminds me of nothing quite so fantastic'

so
you have driven me
sat beside me
bled me
freely

and
you have commanded me
demanded me
when you were
down

and bells on boots remind me of a swallowed Christmas a certain happiness traversing a sudden throat into a vacant room where [his] black charcoal lines stretch skyward across a warm canvas - a dark field of wheat where the last hint of a headful of midnight hue flows, slides, slips, feeds the earth it’s residue.

Nor forward unbarred, destroyer

Cannot i sleep
four inherit the weep
and blinding the lights
the instruments
a whirring warms the heart
that bleeds
tonight

a stealthy hand
will precise will land
a jugular a blow
cause the insolent to
ask

how long must i give and not receive?

but you are a dead wind falling heavy
taking forever in your pocket
with one hand
and the other the left
cannot right the wrongs of a brother
and then your lips will blacken
part, whisper, sing in A-minor

how long can i take and never give?

this blind destroyer
has the most beautiful eyes i have ever seen,
and you know i swim there on lonely nights like these,
through those giant brown pools, knowing full well
i will not go unscarred
nor forward unbarred.

Mary lost a friend

One dot, three, a flattened plastic ball rolls no more and
i have searched the world over to let Mary come over but
this red light, small green light, won't change her ways and
in between breaths, with every other sound, a new note
exchanges place, waits, holds, picks up speed, plays
not in tandem - two hearts burning

my being is a golden orb of pulsing light and
her hair is the color of midnight and
absorption is a word that eats itself to maintain
a certain intimacy

but i have died, i swear i have died, i know i have died, so many times
in your turning away, in the shadow of your empty stead
i have deflated, fought off motion,
to forever hang on to this moment
to break free of the possibility of ever going away

and near two o'clock in the morning
Mary cracks a window
wonders about the wind
and the happenstance of
a friend.

Filmstrip cut into separate frames, multiplied, no one

A dessert of frozen goods
makes me want to fly
and ‘earth is the color
of the tortured sky,’
you said
an oak desk sits in an empty hallway
slightly askew
cries empty words
describes in veiled carvings
a heart shaped love for two
initials added together
written below
forever
and a slow parade moves outside
as no one walks by
noticing synthetic containers
blue, green, gold
hovering, chemical happiness
Cindy smiles, Sara gasps, Johnny turns
paints a pale mask
below the streets
a spoiled water flows,
goes, makes music
and no one notices the rodent
on hind legs,
motioning in the air
little signed gestures,
‘i want to see the show,
why can’t i go there?’
as the festival erupts upstairs
the dinner table rotates into view
and daddy’s face
blurs, bleeds into a plate of sausage and sauerkraut,
'our mother’s humble offering
will not go to waste,
not in this place'
and I will take mine
underneath my chair,
feeling the cool worms
travel through my hair
praying the activity above will
gray
spin down
lie
on the ground
beside me
utter,
‘this vision is all yours, little one.’

Somewhere nearby a guitar rips through the night,
wails, whines, implodes,
watches me from a distance
suggests I’m not making sense
then embraces me, breathes, 'you are home.'

A calm one

Brittle words, or words that easily vibrate when the lips come together
hold some importance, I’m sure,
but only momentarily,
for the genius that fails to surface often
fades

but there's a coffin to break the silence
and an emotion to give it license
as a lover loosens hold on
at once the possibility of
change

mark this down
this time, just mark this one down

a calm one never spoke until spoken to
and fresh earth has a way of opening
blind hands

a crime.