zeitgeist

a year in which
the zeitgeist has been
loaded with derision
with anxiety
and with hatred
and by those who seek division
yet in this morass I found
solace and safety
in the arms of one
who held me lately
in the letting go
of anger
in the making of amends
in the comfort of my family
in the smiles of my friends
I cannot fix
the world at large
the best that I can do
is recognize the magic
that resides in me
resides in you

solicitous

the garden i tend now
none but my own
though others may share
its bounty once grown
in past i was
too solicitous
tending others' fields
before mine were sown
and where's it left me
but alone
they reap the harvest
and they rush to forget
and leave me
hungry with regret

beleaguer

it's not been long enough
to miss you so
to miss your arms
and how they go
so perfectly around me
and when the world beleaguered me
they offered respite
and strength and safety
it's not been long enough
to miss your smile
it's barely been a little while
it's not been long enough
to miss your eyes
mirrored in the stormy skies
beautiful
if not as functional
as one might surmise
it's not been long enough
to miss your kiss
it's not been long enough
but there it is

ultima

we almost never know
when we go
if the last will be the last
kiss
look
word
sigh
if this goodbye
will be the last
goodbye
i think it is so
to protect us though
else each farewell
would be too fraught
we would linger over long
on the ultima
as though it were the final note
of our song
long drawn out
to save us
from the terrible
sharp finished finality
of silence after denouement

veridical

fingers rifling through pictures

the card catalogue 

organized impatiently 

cross referenced haphazardly

veridical but disjointed

context fabricated in snippets

colored by nostalgia 

and blurred by time and tears

laughter and years

somewhere in this library 

scattered in totality of memory

is me

Kwanzaa

light the candles
and dance together
gathered for Kwanzaa
the shining smile
of the infant
mirrored up through
generations to a
wizened, wrinkled face
laughing uproariously
at the antics
of great grandchildren
joyous in the comfort of family
in the promise of continuity
in the ingenuity of creativity

wassail

carousing and careening
like a torrent of falling stars
and angels fall to greet us
as we rise to the occasion
we wassail and we wail
and rail against the dark
no heavenly choir louder
than our heathen song
filling the long night
brightening frigid skies
with the joy of our delight

dreidel

in a hazy mix 

of spirit and spirits 

spun like a dreidel

the world revolves

a game of chance

will we lose or win

enough to spin again

ruminate

pour another cuppa
sniffle and sneeze
forced quietude of a cold
ruminate on days gone by
letting go of how and why
accepting through reflecting
as the tea steeps
and the minutes creep
awaiting the healing
blanket of sleep

crepuscular

I wander through the woods
in the crepuscular hours
listening to the song
of birds singing down the sun
rose gold turns to indigo
as Luna peeks out from cloud
to smile upon me and light my way
following the leafstrewn path
back to hearth and warmth
and trade the creak of tree and wind
for fire's crackle and cat's purr

purlieu

not given up
but given in
accepted that I cannot win
except by forfeit
too oft victory neared
then disappeared
and left a kind of void
achy, odd and weird
I cannot banish it completely
but I cannot count upon it either
so i set you apart
in a purlieu of my heart
this hope of being loved
no more the means
by which I'm moved

eternize

memories i thought fixt fade
songs and words
melt into dream
so i write them on the page
to keep them safe from time
as if eternized in amber
i press this beauty in my book
like flowers plucked and woven
and on a winter's day revisit
but it keeps the fresh wounds open
this volume should be placed
on highest shelf and out of reach
til i am grown enough
to teach my heart to remember
and not relive

nosocomial

the inherent irony
of a nosocomial infection
you said
you'd save me
but destroyed
antibiotic resistance
to hope
no more a cure
despair necrotic grows
the creeping death
of your slow departure
all that's left
palliative release

gallimaufry

throw another dream on the pile
mixt amongst the gallimaufry
of bright and broken toys
a music box plays a creaky tune
and a one armed plastic ballerina turns
a pirouette like a falling top

lave

darkening skies
and petrichor rises
the heavens lave the land
so we are born anew
always born
in cleansing tears
shedding our grief
old skins outgrown
what is left to decay
interred into ground
by rain to feed the flora
of verdant memory
so we may feast upon it

impetuous

leapt before looked
and disliked where i had landed
extricated carelessly
left bits of me behind
wandered willy-nilly
without watching
where i'm walking
until i got so lost
a path i couldn't find
vowed to plan
each step precisely
until by fear immobilized
stuck in the muck
of my own making
for too long
impetuous or cautious
forward motion
is the answer
and stop caring
if the steps I'm taking
right or left
are right or wrong

jubilee

anticipation
oft the cause of frustration
ideation of celebration
rarely exceeds expectation
but with the turning of the years
and letting go of tired fears
forgiving debtors in arrears
dismissing liars and their smears
this coming season of holidays
of jubilees and revelries
a balm for the weary soul's sake
this year, more than most,
we all could use a well earned break
so as the clock ticks towards
a brand new year
may you and yours
be filled with cheer

kapellmeister

I don't know
how to make
the music go
I look at the page
and the players
and wave my wand about
and hope that magic happens
i am a broken clockwork kapellmeister
of a puppet orchestra
strings unplayed but pulled by unseen hands
serenaded by the organ grinder's monkey
smashing cymbals at random
and thinking it's a symphony
on an empty and disintegrating boardwalk
by the seaside on a snowy day

hors de combat

back from the wars

he battles on inside himself

hors de combat by memory barraged

greater than incoming fire that was

the fire within still burns

and blasts beyond our ken

to the world he is bowed but unbroken

a taciturn tower impenetrable he seems

yet inwardly besieged, fighting an enemy

he alone can see

so he believes

but as before, as in the war

his comrades keep him company

he need not be alone

unless he wishes to be

Methuselah

Joni could drink
a case of you
but her I can out do
a million Methuselahs
would never be enough
I could guzzle you
by the gallon
and never be sated
for parched in the desert
so long I had waited
led astray by mirages
that were only more sand
but now I drink deeply
from a boundless sea
no more bound to land
and finally free

fillip

tiny snow
more pellet
than flake
settles on blue coat
swish of
finger filliping
and snow flies again
coat pristine
now go inside
before the winter
accessorizes you more

objurgation

it should not matter
what they think
they who know
but part of me
all too quick to judge
to comment on the
little that they see
and yet the objurgation
of one I once called friend
can set me spinning
to a dizzying end
I hide myself away
to shake and sob
with sorrow
for a thing
I cannot change
and a friendship
now estranged

daedal

the möbius strip of memory
folds in upon itself
in daedal oragmi
indeed, in deed and action
in the exacting replication
worn down by repetition
the facts lose traction
on the soft sanded slopes
of age and satisfaction
til the happy times a haze
and the worser times ablaze
the locks unbreakable but pickable
as we pick and choose
the hows and whys and whos
the reverie is ours to win or lose
mixt betwixt the olds and news
self resides; id divides,
ego hides our flaws
as superego prides
itself we're of just cause
just because we remember
until the last dying ember,
photon, spark of self
dissolves and resolves us
into dark

qui vive

a rustle in the woods
a whisper in the trees
always on the qui vive
she gathers up her littles
and leads them away
back to the den
for safety and comfort
and cuddles and warm
protected from harm
for another day

bamboozle

vile counterfeit
puffed with lies of self-importance
giving yourself titles unearned
and nothing you've learned
but the false pomposity of the fraud
treating those around you as lesser
in words brash and shouty
in hopes they won't notice
your words are empty promises
and you're an empty suit
with too much hair gel
and too slick by far
oozing sleaze and bamboozling
those who can't see who you are
the old and infirm, the gullible and guileless
you, disgusting parasitic tic,
think that ripping off the innocent
makes you a success

salient

head fogged
gauze wrapped
like a sinister gift
tied in a bow
no more do I know
what I knew
before bruises bloomed
like roses
and I swooned
not in Valentine arms
but alarm
the salient details
drip away
like the saline highway
of plastic tubes
connecting me to life
and untethering me
from you

ziggurat

some loves are built at speed
prefab plywood piles
cookie cutter constructions
that fall at the first gusty blow
some sheds, to last a night or two
some shacks built in haste
to see you through a season or so
some statelier but no steadier
McMansions of amour
impressive in facade
but empty past the door
I will be their architect no more
block by block
in solid stone
slowly now it grows
together we sweat
each painstaking placement
on foundation made to bear
the weight of a thousand sighs
to weather stormy skies
this monolith we make
a ziggurat of zeal
wherein we both
can rest and heal
and hold each other
above the flood of
lover's tears

muckrake

the ink no longer drips
replaced by clicks and clacks
still the warriors for truth
sit and type up facts.
those others writing lies,
trolls for money, carry on
disseminating garbage
to the vast and hungry throng.
we among the masses
must check all sources now
content no more to swallow
words delivered by a trowel.
we must support those
who still muckrake
for the greater good
not those who hide their faces
within the pointed hood

vulpine

behind the wall
with vulpine grin
she plots and plans
orders me this way and that
fierce and proud as feral cat
looks out from eyes
that aim to please
but shouldn't always
so she'll seize control
with craft and guile
my words spew forth
with bitter bile
before the rest of me
knows what I say
before regret
can have its way
but sometimes
she is who I need
delivering her angry screed
to defend me for my own sake
when others their advantage take

wane

a roof tank refilled
by joy's tears
some evaporated
to sunshine smiles
lost like skyward laughter 
some guttered and channeled to
the pipes that play us
leaking faucets of affection
dripping into bafflement's basin
only to drain into a sea of apathy
where love wanes
as happiness dilutes
all salt water here the same
regardless from whence it came

thaumaturgy

ingredients laid before us
neatly in a row
labeled and defined
and sat upon a bench
our recipes writ down
in script so neat and clear
and yet
the results we want
so hard to engineer
we bumble and fumble
drop beakers
bunsen burners break
elixers explode
potions bubble
and boil and belch
in crucibles
we mix and melt
but our solutions
no solution
for though we spark and fizz and burn
we lack the thaumaturgy to turn
our baser metals into gold
the alchemy of us
still yet to unfold