When the last voice
over the airwaves
goes silent —
despite there being
no one to listen —
I’d like to believe
the silence will be felt
in the universe.
POEM: Last Transmission
1
Tag Archives: Free Verse
POEM: Intolerable Status Quo
They say that every story begins
with an intolerable status quo.
Who it’s intolerable for is an open question.
Maybe it’s the protagonist…
&
Maybe not.
[Some protagonists spend the whole story
trying to get back to that status quo.]
Maybe it’s the antagonist…
&
Maybe not.
Sometimes, the status quo is intolerable to the universe —
(as every status quo must become.)
And every non-blissful moment of living
is an intolerable status quo —
a state in search of [or hope for]
a better state to come.
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POEM: I, Ghost
cobble stones & lonely roads
built before I was born
i walk them —
not seeing the ghosts,
and thus feeling that I’m the ghost —
a hot-future injected menace
pumped into a world in which I have no business,
a world whose pace & peace I disturb
i am the ghost of winters future,
and I don’t know how I got here,
but I know there’s no return
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POEM: A 100 Word Sentence on the Risks of High Speed Karma
Mikey stole a motorbike, a high-revving rice rocket, weaving through traffic, leaning this way and that, quickly dodging the slow and the still, riding toward an inevitable fate, rapidly surpassing any chance for a destiny other than a beastly crash, a tumbling and fiery maniacal kind of crash, one resulting in screaming vehicles and flashing lights, punching their blunt red noses onto the scene, disgorging fast moving men and women with hoses and bandages, pretending the hoses were for the burning machine and the bandages were for the rider, but knowing that the hoses would be all they’d need on this run.
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POEM: The Ekstasis of a Warm Bed [in a Cold, Snowy Land]
-To watch powder cling to sill and muntin through the frosted panes,
but not be chilled by that crisp whiteness
-To slacken on the back of spastic release – lulled by discordant heartbeats,
while feeling that they — and all — are in perfect accord
-To drift into slumber with no urgency and to awaken noncommittally,
sinking ever deeper into mattress and mind
-To love the snow for its beauty
as much as for its lack of reach
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POEM: Sitting Beside a River
to sit beside a river
is to be Still
amid a moving world
a sweet break
from being that which moves
through the world
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POEM: Funeral Suit
Worn one more time than the number of funerals you attend,
that black suit hangs forgotten — yet dreaded.
It hangs dusty in a closet,
or musty in a bag;
and you’re most listless when it has
a crisp dry cleaning tag.
In good years, it never crosses your path — or your mind.
In bad years, it’s needed repeatedly.
There will be a year in which someone will pull it out for you —
carefully smoothing its lapels —
the year you move beyond bad years.
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POEM: A Sinking Feeling
lead boot sinking,
looking up to halo’d light,
a light that gets smaller & dimmer
as one plunges down through cold waters —
deeper & dimmer;
&
dumber & numb-er;
until there’s nothing left to exhale,
and every urge to fatally inhale
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POEM: Cloud Color
The sunset glowed orange in a wrap of clouds,
looking like the interior of a hollowed tree trunk —
fallen, split open, and with fire burning inside.
The vibrant colors fire my child’s mind —
colors as unsubtle in hue
as the clumsy building blocks were in shape
that I played with as a boy.
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POEM: 2020
2020!
You are the time that tried men’s souls…
not to mention those of:
-women
-children
-the non-binary
-the undecided
and the un-huddled masses,
yearning to be close.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 