You’re so loud
inside your shell, trying so hard
to convince us of your becoming
something else
but I know that really,
it’s just you in there
You’re a sad little child
and I’m afraid that it’s all true,
the stories and the truths
about the silk from this here cocoon
it’s nothing more than
anything
and you’re bound to freeze
this winter
I see the eyes of your [...]
Archive for January 1st, 2008
Chrysalis (Softened)
Posted in Poetry on January 1, 2008 | 2 Comments »
Song for the Jailers
Posted in Poetry on January 1, 2008 | 1 Comment »
Shed a tear for your shackles
that hang you on the wall
and shed a tear for your captor
who whips you when you call
no one here is free;
it’s just the length of chain
Sing a song for the night
that sits inside your cell
and sing a song for the guards
who answer master’s bells
and really don’t know
that it’s just the length of [...]
To an Heir of Great Fortune (a Mantle for Malcolm)
Posted in Poetry on January 1, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
Come on and claim yourself a name
so we can stand together
as humans
on platforms at station,
on rooftops in the downtowns
and on bridges over rivers
whose jaws snapped up the starving
but now reach only for our feet
Just pull the velvet rope
and be done
claim your stake with me
and we can brand the dirt with
wild footprints of our soles;
lock a [...]
Tea with Clive
Posted in Poetry on January 1, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
“Hey kid, have I ever told you about
Antarctica
and the snow so full of
lions
that the only heat on tap is
blood from the kill
or Jealousy,
whose wife was always found alone
but never lonely,
or the birds
whose wings would scale the sky
were it not so cruel and
heavy?”
I nod my head,
slow and bored because
of course I have
Clive has always had dead [...]
Postcards for the People (Execution of a Painter)
Posted in Poetry on January 1, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
When we hear you talk about it
like a secret bastard
consigned off to the convent,
we can feel the ground is shifting
and we know
what’s going on now,
don’t we?
Oh, you could sigh it off of cell phones
or scribe it onto paper
but your pigeons could never carry
concrete,
could they?
but sure,
you paint a pretty picture
When we saw you, you had
jutting pockets
full [...]
