Friday, November 20, 2009
Page Meets Stage
If you're in the NYC area, I'll be reading at the Bowery Poetry Club with Terrance Hayes on Wednesday, December 9th @9pm. It's part of their monthly Page Meets Stage reading series. They tell me tickets are already selling, so get'em while you can.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
NIGHT HAWK
You know you can't
call for Love
in this city,
it stalks the streets
like a gypsy cab
over pavement
feigning hard
call for Love
in this city,
it stalks the streets
like a gypsy cab
over pavement
feigning hard
to preserve its solitary lines.
Your ears open themselves
to catch any cry.
Some are flocked together,
others have sought the solace
Your ears open themselves
to catch any cry.
Some are flocked together,
others have sought the solace
of a solo glide.
At the end of each avenue
you hear the lyrics
of Love's myriad migrations.
You imagine it
perched in a tall tree,
trapped in branches
until a storm stops.
You realize you
cannot decipher
even a single chirp.
You dim the lights
for the night
At the end of each avenue
you hear the lyrics
of Love's myriad migrations.
You imagine it
perched in a tall tree,
trapped in branches
until a storm stops.
You realize you
cannot decipher
even a single chirp.
You dim the lights
for the night
and kneel.
And maybe mid-dream,
And maybe mid-dream,
a flapping
startles you,
alighting
on the sill
of a window
you forgot to close.
startles you,
alighting
on the sill
of a window
you forgot to close.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
For G.G.
. . . only because
it was a Thursday
(which is her Monday),
and she was walking as though
carrying something heavy
(albeit not in her hands),
and I thought I heard her sigh,
and recalled Lonnie
(who you might not know)
not Lonnie who was always
pawning his favorite bracelet
so he could feed the penny slots
or Lonnie from The Hill
who always seemed to be
half a slice short
of a sandwich,
but Lonnie from
'Lonnie's Lament'
(and here she
cocks her head and
wrinkles her nose
saying "Who?")
because whatever blew
his rain so sideways
inspired John William to put
a saxophone between his
lips and blaze
a lamentation
which matches
her Monday motion,
a wistful grace
with piano lines almost
lengthy as her legs
and a bassline that
plunges like her hair
when she combs it
into a black Niagra
which makes me wish
I could spend
the rest of my days
naked and trembling
in a wooden barrel,
falling forever through
its dark mist.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
A Decent Day
I was waiting for the bus outside the Borgata casino when I turned around and looked in the direction of Philly and this haiku presented itself to me;
Atop their stalks
these windmills slicing, slicing-
the quarter moon.
This is an older poem that I finally found the right ending to.
(after Wallace Stevens)
A poem must seduce
the senses most successfully.
Illustration:
A noir figure (back-turned) on stage
entices an audience of eyes.
The muted blues he trumpets
entice even the least open ears.
Accept them then, as key
(notes almost perceived
as known melodies,
uncertain notation of certain chords,
the roots full of doubt,
notes floating like the last of Autumn Leaves
on a soft breeze that could swirl all night,
on a key breeze of cobalt notes),
A cascade of sensation
now fully falling.
We will bathe
In these sensations all song,
as a blue mysterious
beckons in the dark.
(For Miles Davis)
Friday, October 02, 2009
SIJO IN BLUE
The Sijo (SHE-jo) is a Korean form, similar to its younger cousin haiku. They are written in 3 lines and contain no more than 46 syllables. Unlike haiku, metaphor, simile and other wordplay is permitted.
I pace the beach at dawn,
my footsteps, haiku in sand
I ask the whitecaps, why Derrion,
why only sixteen?
Lake Michigan falls on its shore,
the Hawk wheels and wails above.
I pace the beach at dawn,
my footsteps, haiku in sand
I ask the whitecaps, why Derrion,
why only sixteen?
Lake Michigan falls on its shore,
the Hawk wheels and wails above.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
A Few Haiku
I have been writing (or trying to write) haiku for over 12 years. It's only in the last couple of days that I feel like I may finally have a firm grasp of the form. This is exciting for me, because I feel like I can now begin to write a few decent pieces. We'll see; anyway here are some older attempts that I've revised.
summer sunset-
a woman crying into
her cellphone
country road-
our brakes screech at
a squirrel
Spring shower-
a white cat under the
drycleaner’s awning
summer shimmer-
that woman talking to herself
wears two coats
March wind –
The white king topples on
the chess table
the white moon-
kissing my uncle's name
in black granite
Sunrise- only lipstick in my wineglass
after the snowstorm-
not one loaf of bread
on this store's shelves
a cowrie shell in her dreadlocks-
summer sunset-
a woman crying into
her cellphone
country road-
our brakes screech at
a squirrel
Spring shower-
a white cat under the
drycleaner’s awning
summer shimmer-
that woman talking to herself
wears two coats
March wind –
The white king topples on
the chess table
the white moon-
kissing my uncle's name
in black granite
Sunrise- only lipstick in my wineglass
after the snowstorm-
not one loaf of bread
on this store's shelves
a cowrie shell in her dreadlocks-
the North star
spring sunlight-
dust devils dancing
after the broom
summer lightning-
the edge of your teeth
on my nipple
August heat-
the man in front of the bank
begs for change
sunrise-
three men shiver outside
Kogod's Liquors
at the red light-
the rain on the windshield
stops
bright afternoon-
After that swooping hawk
this swirling feather
spring sunlight-
dust devils dancing
after the broom
summer lightning-
the edge of your teeth
on my nipple
August heat-
the man in front of the bank
begs for change
sunrise-
three men shiver outside
Kogod's Liquors
at the red light-
the rain on the windshield
stops
bright afternoon-
After that swooping hawk
this swirling feather
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
On the Rationality of Last Night
Recall that:
the emotion is the desire plus the moan;
the emotion is to the desire as the desire is to the moan.
If we call the emotion K and the desire B, then the second statement above becomes
K is to B as T is to K − B,
or, algebraically:
Kiss is to Bite, as Bite is to Kiss minus Bite.
To say that last night was rational
means that last night was
a fraction (Kiss divided by Bite) where K and B are intertwined.
We may take (Kiss divided by Bite) to be in roughest terms
and K and B to be still tender.
But if (Kiss divided by Bite) is in roughest terms,
then the identity labeled (rationality) above
says (Bite dreaming of Kiss divided by Bite) is in still rougher terms.
That is a contradiction
which follows from the assumption
that last night was rational.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


