New Poetry

A few recent pieces:

  

~'Whatever'~

Exhaling the pained staleness of the moment,

lift the dull edges of reality from which we build the sharp

brick wall of understanding, of acceptance and proportional constants

which unwittingly hold together the fabricated lie of zen.

zen is chaos, zen is the primal animal scream which builds and rises,

looming on the fading white horizon, before crashing into the meaningless 

wastes of society, that from which we forge our identities

out of a handful of norms and expectations

the soul a collector of all the myriad eccentricities 

that make life worthwhile.

the reason I greet the glowing dawn with wise regret, 

for nothing and everything, a languidly attentive smile which See's

the sweeping injustice hidden under the dark enchantment of the masses,

and reaches into our collective consciousness, to mediate only what is now,

what is here, what is shaped for the extravagant momentum of tomorrow.

~"Ski Vermont"~

Stubborn place that seems to have fixed itself into my memory, I caught a note of your return

on the gentle north wind blowing cold, starry sky down from Canada, 

they said it would rain tomorrow and the crunch-crunch-crunching under my toes as I trod 

down a weary rural path tell me it's been warm, but I know, my friend, it's going to snow, 

oh it's going to snow, and when it does I'll be slicing through great silent mounds of drifted 

fluff, caught in the lovely nether regions of consciousness, a traveller along no road or path, 

just a crooked line, adrift in the sterile, windswept beauty of this place.

But for this, don't you know, I'm just a wandering soul watching out for my next ride,

my captive audience a stand of bushy spruce and rickety alders, frozen shadows they cast

onto snowy pillows below, once the journey starts, we're all organic, aren't we?

Winter is coming.

~'Homeless Lady'~   [True story!]

"And I, a wayward stranger slouched against a cold metal gas station pump, rigid bastion of society, black blood pumped into the veins of necessity, I lazily watched the numbers madly climb, a murder segued upon my credit card.  

And you, on foot approaching, asked if you might bum a ride, in terms befitting your disheveled elegance, of course, you whom I eyed with wary contempt and shameful apathy at first, but then, remembering we're all bound to be human after all, I trusted you quite suddenly, out from under my better judgement, and headed down the dark ,weary corridors of South Golden Road, against the rising, ebbing tide of whitewashed conformity, an act of completely irrational compassion; twenty dollars, sure what the hell, oh, my address you inquire, might you have it so as to repay me at your earliest?  Why certainly, and as to your whereabouts, where the wind and fortune might take your weary soul, you say your a Christian, praying for a miracle,

I say I don't believe in god or miracles, but I believe in kindness, I trust we are all drawn down the same path of consciousness, all bound by fate to live and react and never leave the present moment.  And so we parted ways on a strip of asphalt on West Colfax, and I, alone with my thoughts as usual, turned and flashed a lovely twenty-dollar smile,

as the evening exploded into a million shiny little pieces.