Memory wonders (poem)

Keeper of the backbeat

Sometimes it feels there are only the surroundings that form

nothing sticks yet nothing passes, nothing to touch which is known to be my own

no sincere smiles meant to enliven

bones are carved, fat is stacked and people lean on what is there to support them

the blood runs circuitous and forgetful of it’s force and import

the brain strolls and scrambles, scratches at murmurs of past facts and future functions

there is little use to what’s been done and more often than not none of the millions of actions enacted serve more than a revolving process

Retreat in expression, for there are no receivers in sight

Memory wonders if it’s ever seen that which it wishes were whole the world over

to: lara, from: lara (poem)

Lara,

Total heart love is not hingent,

nor found in letters

lf 190209

 

 

Hingent (definition)

Hinging / dependent

Dashed ( magnetic poem)

She paused on the ridge,

a

free

aphrodite.

dashing memories on the rocks,

and pulling truth back up

to refind

her

life.

 

lf 190209

A part. (poem)

Pinprick (Poem)

If life were like a map laid out before me

i would still pick the stars to press my pinpoint into

and watch it unravel the fabric,

more brillant with every indention

evidence of my absolute intentions

and my penchant to aim straight for perfection

One pinpoint can hold my map up on the wall

why do so many take it out and watch it fall?

Poem: Look Closely

look closely

life is near

here

and there

between the streams

of consciousness and dreams

 

Belongings (thought)

The more you surround yourself with belongings, the more of the environment you control.  The less you own the more environments you experience. ( maybe like many things, this is only true in some circumstances.  It just occurred to me while traveling how much more I was experiencing by not having.

Pressed (poem)

My mind speaks

“We can never represent it accurately”

My hand is pressed, cold palm to forehead

My fingers nestle deep in warm hair,

curve their nails lightly into my scalp

like waves of the ocean, brush by the tides.

But my eyes pause,

draw themselves closed, clothed, contorted overload of the land.

light, too bright, when I remember outside is night.

New moon, too soon leaves the room

slides by, hides, so sly.

Not I.

Sulk, slack, sit unseen.

Impressed with yourself for not wearing Maybelline.

It’s so obscene, you’re so damn lean.

Forgotten serenity, the entity of totality, til I’m almost ill.

Still, realizing real life pauses are important.

Pen poised, patient, prepared for the perfect timing to touch the paper,

to express a thought worth thinking (doesn’t happen a lot)

inking, indecodable, quotable quips.

Quick trip for some, an “oh yes, fun” then they “have to run”

always jump the gun… not saying I’m never one but what do they do once they are done?

I’d want a refund, but realize I refused to retrain my brain to refrain so I’d abstain~

Written 2002, Dec. 10th

 

Meaning (poem)

repeating rhythms

shaping sounds

making metaphors

 

sadly structures

rarely represent realistically

 

most meaning whittled away

with words

well intended

and poorly placed

 

*refound, written in 2001.