Pageviews past week

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Medusa's Kitchen published these two new poems just two days after I wrote them.


A night train grinds

The edges of our understanding.

We make light of it, thinking

It is only a small disturbance,

Something we can overcome,

A brightness there in that late occurrence.

We are given to know many things.

Why I cry being so much different

Than why you cry and how would

We know what fills the heart or leaves

It open for visitations by miracles.

Somewhere it comes together, where

The tracks seem to converge in a distance.

But that is a place we cannot reach

Given all things from sleep and dreams,

To heated arguments and cursing at one another.

Eventually the sounds recede, a long

Hollow road into a further darkness.

We essay to bring songs, some kind of gift

To it, It remains an unknown god,

A blistering of angels just before consciousness

Decides we have had enough and leaves.


The lights come on.

They insist we move toward them.

We cannot recall that everything

Around them is without sound.

We follow them. Sometimes they are people,

Sometimes they are a fulfillment upon

The spine, enticing and crippling simultaneously,

As if it were a dance we learned

In grammar school between naps,

Between learning and listening to stories.

Sometimes we can go no further.

Everything is pain. Everything has finer

Clothing than we could ever wear.

We can barely stand to look at one another.

We keep shadows as guests.

Night after night they tell us

Beautiful tales of death and suffering.

Knowing they are lies.

We believe them.

No comments:

Post a Comment