Saturday, April 26, 2014

A Frayed Timeframe

Nocturnal obvious fringe birds
line the gaps in hearing,
while I read a narrator
I lean to enjoy.


Which of us sparks
unfettered fire? The word
"inadvertent" simulates
another word that I forget.


I have forgotten innuendo,
a word my mother used to
chalk. We offered her so many
opportunities, op cit


in primacy-recency conversations
disguised as dialogic,
we norm our way to
peace time(s) three and linger.

Condonation


He performs what he
performed and will
perform. And shows me
variations on


the theme to be
his legacy. I recognize
the hiss of disappointment
when the instruments

malfunction. Malfeasance,
though, remains
unlikely. The instruments
remain unwieldy. The hands

employing what
keys do, defer to keys
and channeled breath
to lubricate and fabricate true north.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Quaint Curio


She talks about her latest
project, as though
I might aspire
to same or similar,


as though informing
a young facsimile
of self what heights are
possible, if not likely.


I fail to glaze over
during this recital.
I lavish sweet perfume
of my mentality


concerning a CV as plush
as a new feather bed
on which I lie, repeating
what will not be rinsed away.

Sense

Having curtailed more than
you have contributed, I feed
and clothe the spirit
that I know is there,


somewhere in the vicinity
of breath I feel released
close to the infestation
of foreign and near


objects, substances, routines,
shuttled from your assumed
world weariness to my
certain practiced innocence,


as though swathed
in novelty accompanying
birth, beyond, yet sinking
into terra firma and its plates.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

I could incinerate new melody from this side
of your bed, having erased the catapult
from recidivist experiment
of a prescribed recovery

No verbs do due diligence,
we carve what we have craved all night
toward de minimis detraction
as the repertoire pretends

a revolution as the prophet wore it out
while dappled from a lake
called retribution. I see the feather
dried now fall, a feathery

precipitation scalded now re-framing
warm sky bowled up over our
young hearts. Shrapnel packed down
into some tin thing heartily in brackets.
Came upon, and a synthetic origin just then
perpetuated one question after
the next question. I was finished until
yolk yellow of the marginal sun

brought home light. I was your unexpected
dust made whole again,
and you did not know my name.
I preferred the bass tones,

almost rigidity that brought them,
the one you dance with, to, upon
with some refractive smile that enters
back stage without primping.

Do you time arrival of the husk
he calls voice tone before learning
worship thin then constant and
replenishing as much as cradled mood?
Only the lyrics break my heart.
He takes the brace light out of the gut strings,
comes back again.
The vault of method acting closes shop.

The vault of method acting creases my indifference.
I recollect the single fleck of snow.
What time of daylight does subtraction
overtake the blood moon.

Anymore, monastic theory breaks in
to sweep the hearing instruments
from floor-length dresses.
All of us wear floor-length dresses evermore.

Open mouthed insignia weather the Catskills.
I want to down time to return
to a clandestine length of peace
The rapport with stray life forms and woods.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Coolmarm

Tickler file flinked open 
revokes an equal
opportunity once
possible statistically,


now close to demi-glace
wedged between karma
and the premise
of a degustation.


Parameters invoke
the only builder of
small homes, who cheats
singular and plural


just the same as he would
brevity and starch
against the texture
of a learned skin.




Mezzo

Irises on mezzanine
convey / repay / defray
the lyric opus fraction,
of olfactory
 
white spring, long


torrent of refraction,
while the lambent winds
street side climb


upward to a vintage
crease enduring limbo
streams and stalls
with blessings of new fact.


The tide comes in
meanwhile, already
worked up into blue
routine disguised as innovation.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Jambisco

Port keen wary of the -amsel in dis ropia
Tort for maturation at your ration sir loin
Park lean port scene river dose canary full of
Leeway fur lined nova sorghum sittin' in a tree



And you thought gondola was mainframe
go ahead and ponder yonder in the sweet lane
where we nurk our way to bravo dome
and virtue stents are recent see


Elderberry innocence is like your snow
and I'm impeccable as slow-go venison
You work to lay-by strenuous veneer
that we may dimestore to the lollygag


of shopped windows to sleet
Come slither through the dappled rain with me
to wit each thunder keening for the royal
we love empathy we emblem to defeat our lust and brevity