Tag Archives: Free Verse

The Mountain has Fists [Free Verse]

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The mountain feels like it flows
 as much as the river that sits beside
  (or more so -- i.e. more smoothly.)

The contours of a half-buried fist --
 rounded knuckles and fingerbones --
 sit in the mountainside,
 as if jutting out of sand,
  but soft & green.

It looks like the whole hand could lift
 out of that mountainous topography,
 and flick away the buildings on the bank,
 or pluck canoes out of the river.
 (But now the water is too low and chaotic
 for any craft to pass.)

So, maybe the ancient mountain monster
 will just put up its dukes to the world,
 shaking that great, green, soft fist.

Ramzan Mela [Free Verse]

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A fire flares
   up Mosque Road.

Orange flames burn brightly 
    beyond the ovals lit by 
    feeble streetlamps.

Some fat 's hit the fire,
    and the smoke 's
    rising high.

The throngs have arrived --
    hungry & huddled,
    with tiny plates of 
    jiggly cubed meat.

The pious --
    angry stomachs, 
    vibrating to sundown

&

Impious Instagrammers
    (or, at least, substantially less pious,)
    having their eighth tiny meal
    of the day
    (some spit into a bucket, Hollywood-style.)

All gathered to break bread --
    except there is no bread
    (save the occasional roomali roti) 

So, instead, they bite basa or mutton 
    or chicken or camel or prawns --

all smoky

all devoured.

Machine Flow [Free Verse]

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This machine can flow,
     moving over, around, 
     & through.

Skin conforms to the contours
     of musculature.

Muscle binds to bone,
     muscle that thickens
     and lengthens and ripples
     and pulses.

Bones that flex and recoil.

But that machine can flow --
     over, around, and through.

It can cause air to pop
     and water to slosh
     and earth to tremor.

It crawls through liquid,
    slices through gases,
    and slams the solids,

but can move over, around,
    and through.

Let It Fly! [Free Verse]

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Stand on a hill and howl.

Don't wait for the perfect moon.

Gather your thoughts, 
  & wash the:
      cliches,
      doublespeak, 
      technocratic jargon, and
      weasel words
 out of mind & mouth.

(Those shitty words, phrases,
     and qualifiers are heavy,
      and will weigh down 
       your message & 
        keep it from sailing.) 

Then, belt it out.

Let your words fly.

Express your authentic self.

Huff & Puff, 
    and let the bricks fall 
     where they may.

Ghosted [Free Verse]

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What passes through me?
   I can't say.

But I feel it move,
   causing bone reverberation
    of a subtle kind.

I feel it deep within,
   but it fades quickly.

I'm moved, but to what,
   I can't say. 

All I know is that something
   has passed through me,
    and made me feel like a ghost.

A Life Improbable [Free Verse]

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Each of us lives a life improbable,
 the gift of an ancestor who struggled 
 through some terror which killed others.

We each have an iron impulse 
 to maintain a cracking grip on life,
 but some won't ever be pried away,

growing like the stunted pine
 that juts from the mountainside:
 gnarled but indestructible.

Live improbably 
 with your life improbable.

Seasons [Free Verse]

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I

I remember Spring:
   tight and tender buds,
   soon to blossom

clouds -- low & swollen, 
   & rain scent in the air
II

I remember Summers:
   the season of freedom...

and mosquitoes,
   but, also, fireflies

exploration &
   calamine lotion
III

I remember the Fall:
   harvest time

Grain chaff in the air
   axle grease on the wind

Canadian geese
   Honk-Honk-Honk-ing
   in wedge formation
IV

I remember winters:
   snow days

snow drifts

the feel of the first morning
    of the season in which
    one woke up to a blanketing snow,
    having gone to bed with 
    pathetic matted grass

Night Colors [Free Verse]

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It's dark.

But the neon burns,
   and bright signs
   color the night,

and that color
   shines against wet surfaces.

The color seems to float,
   and when I walk past
   it shifts, morphs, and flows,

becoming alive.

And it -- those bright primary colors --
   might just be creeping towards me
   like a killer kindergarten clown.

I turn to see the colors swirling,
   swirling but not advancing.

I stare into the color paisleys 
   as they dance yin-yang do-si-do's
   around the puddle.
  
I'm entranced & soothed,
   and no longer fear
   the colors will attack,
   turning me vibrant.

Ghost or Dream? [Free Verse]

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I glimpsed your ghost,
   but for a moment
   
   in the middle of the night
   
   just as I opened my eyes.

You stood stock still --
   right there at the foot of my bed.

I couldn't make out your expression
   in the short time before you faded.

In the morning, I learned
    that you died that night.

Everything City [Free Verse]

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Everything is happening 
   somewhere in that city.

Blocks of block buildings
   broken into smaller blocks,
    in turn into smaller ones.

Those blocks -- rooms --
    are the city's unit of interest.

So many rooms,
    so much potential for the:
        -nefarious,
        -virtuous,
        -ill-advised,
        -hideous,
        -hopeful,
        -hilarious...

Someone is hanging 
   from a rafter,
   waiting to be found.

Thousands are masturbating.

AI surveys the porn they surf,
    making new genres in real time
    based on unfulfilled search terms...

In one room, a scientist
    figured out a cure for cancer
    in a burst of inspiration,
    but by the time she'd found a pen,
    she'd lost it -- no trace remaining.

    She then convinced herself
         she'd never really had it...

         but she had. 

Everything that can happen 
   has happened,
   will happen,
   and is happening
   in the city.