Dispatches from the Suicide Hours of Immortality

The poem is a pied piper for the rats in my mind

the sunday times 10.13.19

whisper and shadow

 

busted radiance

tourniquet smile

 

plundering circulation

for the darker blood of emotion

 

seated deep

this haunting ache

of useful longing

 

a slow burn

forty-eight years long

 

fearing a break of no return

 

simply to touch

something that matters.

*

remains

 

pointless mourning

begrudged and besmirched

 

time is nothing to rely on

distance remembers no love

 

all broken containers

of each other’s secrets

 

slowly flowing like lava

searing the ground beneath

 

our momentary history

so easily brushed away

 

breathtakingly inconsequential

yet construction continues

 

on our own personal monuments

to insignificance.

*

sinking

 

knowing the reason

does little to break the fall

 

still the memory

fading by association

 

so long now

but touched

as close as

yesterday

 

loss lingers

purpled like a bruise

yellowed at the edges

 

bone deep

 

love

leaves

its

mark.

*

red light blues

 

still gone

 

burning away the hours

from the inside out

 

near misses

and near fatal flaws

 

dead tracks

armored hearts

 

sunlight falls

between the cracks

of whispered days

 

as her shadow remains in darkness

 

a ghost

of a ghost of

a ghost.

***

“We must pass thru solitude and difficulty,

isolation and silence in order to reach forth

to the enchanted place where we can dance

our clumsy dance.”

  • Pablo Neruda

 

 

Thus concludes the collection “The Heart has a Mind of its Own”

Next week begins poems from my most recent work in progress

with the working title  “A Spark on the Horizon”.

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the sunday times 10.6.19

gone down

 

corners of rooms

call out from darkness

 

the weight of silence

upon the heart

 

the same night at the end

of every other day

 

almost close

but just out of reach

 

someone remembered somewhere

 

no point in detail

 

just another anchor to cut loose

until i catch another wave.

*

last of september

 

around again

summer burning down

 

not much to remember

not much to forget

 

status quo and still waters

 

the mind wanders

the heart waits

 

trawling the deep

resonance of solitude

 

ever beckoning me

to follow my own light.

*

scriptnotes and faultlines

 

angled for direction

panning out to broadened scope

 

pinpoint and scattershot

 

patchworked progress gleaned

from the finest fragments

 

onward turning

past silver lakes

toward cold water canyons

 

driving away

driven away

 

spirits converging

as coyotes gather in the field

beneath the radio towers

howling in the dusk

 

and another red night comes forth

to bleed us dry.

*

in spite of agony

 

mourning redemption

golden ways long gone

 

the fulcrum at the crux of foundation

leveled and admonished

 

with just enough light

to bring this dark knowing

into focus

 

whether by sadness mined

or fire branded

 

we all bear the scars of our escape.

*

what the holy see

 

tapping in and out

deep in the fade of forgetting

 

hope has many disguises

whether burned like a witch

or lost like a lover

 

spaces locked away until

moments of precision release

 

as a billion broken stars

shower the dawn of our reverie.

***

“Shadow can’t survive without

the sun’s bright beam,

and death hold’s life in its coat pocket,

fingers stroke it like a lucky charm”

  • Terry Wolverton

 

 

 

 

the sunday times 9.29.19

better than nothing

 

walls around walls

 

sunlight’s soft intrusion

thru the cracks allowed

 

the bluest vacancy of open skies

hails the day anew

 

gracefully mourning

another lost night

 

to the sorrow

of love.

*

dead on

 

cornered by exact coincidence

with enough room upon the pages

to dig and dig

 

seeded deep

in the echo

of memory

 

the breath of hungry ghosts chasing smoke…

 

there are places inside me

that can only be found

by words.

*

roll wise

 

urged from ledge to ledge

outbound thoughts leaving be

 

gentle collapse

brilliant collision

 

courses parsed

by glimpse and glean

 

periphery compromised

by bombardment

 

turn back the eyes

to sanctum from inertia

 

rest in the assurance

that you are where you are

 

trust

in the dignity

of the process

 

forward and unfolding

 

there is

no end.

*

equilibrium

 

mile to mile

from nowhere

to here

 

trailing pieces of the heart

given away or just plain lost

 

all for the better

 

for the ghosts are wiser now

and the road a bit brighter

 

but still

as dark

as necessary.

*

“Loneliness is a valuable feeling.

artists need to know how to walk alone.”

  • Ai Weiwei

 

 

 

 

the sunday times 9.22.19

touch stone

 

nothing wrong

nothing right

 

muddled in the middle

as the sides begin to sway

 

too early to tell

too late to turn away

 

stepping forward

to face the day.

*

once in a while

 

in love

less often than not…

 

but when it hits

it’s nice to have that connection

for however long it may last

 

the ease and the guardlessness

the newness and the knowing

 

something to remember

on all the lonely night that follow

 

after it’s gone.

*

sightlines

 

periphery in dementia

 

part and parcel

piecemeal patchwork

 

focus center

gravity pulls

 

to this moment

pulsing from within

 

tension released

in a blink and

a breath

 

and again we live

and again we die

 

there is no way

but this.

*

day and night

 

the slow and steady sun

beats and burns away

 

clearing the brush

for the deluge

 

lurching into the darkened fray

of things gone wrong

 

searching for the right words

to make it beautiful again.

*

renunciation and compliance

 

lifting the drag

slight momentum maintained

 

still the detriment

of dead weight

 

begetting better traps

to stall forward motion

 

subtlety all the wiser

gotten good by tricks of trade

 

by barter and bargain

 

but in the end

nothing works but necessity

 

and the dawning belief

that it’s never too late

 

to start from where you are.

***

“Men

against their reason

speak of love, sometimes,

when they are old. It is

all they can do.”

  • William Carlos Williams

the sunday times 9.15.19

slow rise

 

low grade tension

self-administered doubt

 

things in the way

all of my own making

 

stories and fear

emanating from

a dark and unright mind

 

but the sun is in the room

and the words are on the way

 

so i anticipate

a change is in the offing.

*

off wire

 

the day burns anew

with the same old feelings

 

with choices

made and pending

 

no more wait in the wonder

of what comes next

 

to be pulled from the ruins

long after the fact of demise

 

no more blindsided

by truth or consequence

 

nothing given but the assumption

that everything is yet unknown

 

the task at hand

to move forward

 

secure in that very unknowingness

far beyond the revelation of any outcome

you can imagine.

*

debris

 

to the ground

 

familiar spaces

darker than usual

 

as all measure

of ways and means change

 

turns both surprising and expected

spark and dim perspective

 

left again to sift thru

whatever broken things remain

 

to gather what is needed

to face another day.

*

reaching ground

 

beneath the beauty there is darkness

beneath the darkness, beauty

and on like this

 

every step,

every turn

 

more light, less time

more time, less light

 

it’s really just an even fight

though most times it seems otherwise

 

whether caught in the past

or drawn to the next

 

neither and nothing

can ever be anything

 

without the presence of mind

to know exactly where we are

right now.

*

all in

 

definitive ends

 

better a clean break

but never quite the way

 

scraping memories

from the gutters of the mind

 

fooled again and left unsaid

the words for better hearts

 

a little more time burned away

by the gamble of hope and expectation

 

all’s well that ends, i guess…

 

still willing

to bet everything

on love

for the

win.

***

“In darkness there is sight.

It takes courage to step forward

into the walls

of uncertainty.”

  • Lisa Segal

the sunday times 9.8.19

lock

 

accustomed to the fleetingness of emotion

but somehow still convinced it will remain

 

trapped in the pull

of want and permanence

 

fighting against the fight

none the better way

 

neither to hold

nor pin down

 

and while this being known

is but only the beginning

 

it is decidedly more

than a step in the right direction.

*

for the best

 

holding forth

uncertainties deciphered

 

in the space of days

and the vastness of silence

 

there speaks the heart

unburdened of influence

and static

 

opened in clarity

and decision

 

to accept the letting go

and embrace the unknown.

*

slow lightning

 

upon the break

of deeper waters

 

up for air

beneath the blue

silent sky

 

communion retreats

to advance anew

 

toward another crash

of the same old drag

 

heart in a holding pattern

 

hoping for anything

but nothing again.

*

trust and consequence

 

no matter

no mind

 

too often

the heart follows

the head

 

dead roads and bad neighborhoods

 

the same reels spinning

over and over

 

film flapping

as the projector

flickers

 

held hostage

by thought after thought

gone rogue

 

nothing true

but everything real

 

reason rationed

to the smallest dose

 

quick triggers

to a slow death

of promise

 

leaving hope in the dust

and love to sweep the garden.

***

“Going nowhere isn’t about turning your

back on the world; it’s about stepping away

now and then so that you can see the world

more clearly and love it more deeply.”

  • Pico Iyler

the sunday times 9.1.19

this again

 

wrested from sleep

to the dim glory

of mourning

 

emptied of knowing

starting from scratch

 

as love’s bright eyes

look elsewhere

for now.

*

nothing for granted

 

truth finds its place

in the light years of stars

toward destiny

 

riding the illusion of fate

to its fiery end

 

freed from demand

and compulsion

 

vast with acceptance

and spaciousness

 

within

the unknowable absolute

of being.

*

drawn from memory

 

the heart can hold this moment

no more than open arms

can gather the tide

 

roll and crash with the waves

drift and float with the calm

 

let flow what comes

let flow what leaves

 

learn from what you’ve done

and know from what you do

 

it’s all just glitter in the wind

thrown from pulled pockets

 

cast the turning unlocked

there is nothing here

but now.

*

eye of the rain

 

difference deep

if only in the mind

 

the energy of approach

streamlined and subtle

 

spacious and significant

void of submission and lesser apologies

 

long lived lessons

finally bearing fruit

 

borne of recognition

and acceptance

 

of a bigger picture

and a greater purpose.

*

for the first time, again and again

 

between the illusion

thru the stories

and the fear

 

chance options provision

 

codes of falsehood cracked

as something brighter emerges

 

to dim the haunting shadows

and light a better way.

*

“Living is a knot of opposites;

anything less than that is a lie.”

  • Cheryl Levinson

 

 

 

the sunday times 8.25.19

no time to spare

 

to turn

as infinity

breaks

 

as free to shine

as the mind of a star

 

dust to dust

as everything

goes

 

we

are

only

ever

 

here.

*

force of nature

 

sinking in

deep grooves

in the dark skin

of the night

 

give way

to this morning song

 

brokenness touched

by the ghosts of sleep

 

a tender burn

soothed with a smile

 

maybe again, someday

 

and maybe

nothing more.

*

this tide will turn

 

accounting for suspect device

back to ways uncontrolled

 

an easy slip down

the sides of mountains

 

known to know

a bit more than nothing

 

but just enough

to change course

 

from the clutter

complication suggests

 

when the grip too tight

strains the slack

 

it is best

to practice the simplicity

of letting things be as they are.

*

no reason

 

down this road

 

thoughts pulling too much weight

in the wrong direction

 

imagined triggers

set forward the motion

 

and here

to this

we run

 

the center that will no longer hold

the dead habit of downtrend and despair

 

this threadbare noose

that gives way to chance

 

and the freedom

to try again.

***

“We all carry within us our places of exile,

our crimes and our ravages. But our task

is not to unleash them on the world; it is

to fight them in ourselves and others.”

  • Albert Camus

the sunday times 8.18.19

go there

 

at least once

morning, noon

and night

 

to keep the gears from grinding

to keep the fingers from slipping

 

somewhere out beyond the day

and all its doings

there is an elsewhere

that longs for presence

 

a place to feed the soul

and simply breathe.

*

in the wait

 

connection crossed

tension dismantled

 

appearing at ease

from the distance

 

telling time soon to approach

 

back from elsewhere

to common ground

 

toward the unknown possibility

of new endeavor.

*

hark and hollow

 

low in the darkness

beneath the heat

 

july ending like a fire in the night

three days up in flames

 

a new garden rumbles

from the guts of berlin

 

eons of thought

traced like headlights

across the ceiling

 

with someone, somewhere

to think about

 

and wonder

what comes next.

*

third in a trilogy

 

a while back

now it comes

 

a chance like a feather

descending to grace the abyss

 

attention at ease

despite tendencies to the contrary

 

the same different page

to burn anew

 

in hopes of something better

than nothing at all.

*

breaking dawn

 

mourning tides pull

bright words burn thru

 

risk for the taking

optioning surrender instead

 

a day to ease the blows

solitude chosen for now

 

in the cool dark space

of an echoed silence.

***

“The truth is not straining for the truth,

the truth is in effortlessness. The truth

is in being, not trying.”

  • Richard Hell

 

 

 

the sunday times 8.11.19

no way

 

counter to the urge

of futile necessity

 

demand thrusts hope away

 

the sides worn thin and grating

ledge after ledge tempts with the abyss

of immortality

 

accept that there is nothing

and nothing there will be

 

think no thought

right no wrong

 

like smoke

in the clutch

of a dying hand

 

leave no trace of flight

upon this void.

*

too long gone

 

jangled keys in covered clouds

the unexplained movements

of shadow across the heart

 

hung on a phrase

or a picture of time

 

a different sequence of frequency

circles traced infinitely outward

 

the song

the dance

the chorus

the verse

 

forward thru this endeavor

from which we are never meant

to return.

*

true blood

 

caged in the bones of the heart

a harmless coronation dissolved

 

one last song

like a river

flows

 

endless of letting go

hopeless of fall

 

finally unlocked.

*

connectivity

 

reachable ledges

beyond pale comparisons

 

each endeavor

a step away

 

in closer proximity

to moments of truth

 

no unclaimed baggage

to clutter the way

 

everything owned

and confronted

 

the table cleared

smiles on a blank slate

 

both sides win.

***

“You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”

– Toni Morrison