fidelity

as every actor knows
one may memorize
by rote the writ
& speak it
with perfect fidelity
to the text
as scribbled on the page
but if you would bring
unto the stage fresh life
you must imbue
the words with you
and so it is
when giving out a lie
until you believe it
neither will I
so let go the false
and tell me true
else with flat fallacies
you will all
my goodwill undo

culminate

what I thought had made me hard
instead had made me strong
sturdied the foundation
from which to build upon
pressure I thought
sure would fracture
has rather
made me whole
as plinth may make a pillar
out of what was just a pole
oh had I known in younger days
how it would culminate
with better grace I may have faced
the calumnies of fate

tristful

the rain seems to hang
as a tear upon an eyelash
not yet fallen on a cheek
a melancholy mist envelops
the solitary figure hovering
above the damp and cobbled streets
and the tristful tread of feet
is muted by the grey
as the shadows retreat
while your lover walks away

scapegrace

padding through the dark
with barely a whisper
of a whisker
he stalks
and
i
ever
a sucker
for a scapegrace
with a Cheshire smile
spin around in giddy gallops
so the stars all look like comets

and so i did not see
when he unsheathed his claws
i was taken in
by the softness of his purrs and paws

perspicuous

planned and plotted
and thought it
all perspicuous
set out just so
but ever brought low
by things unknown
the best laid schemes
gang aft a-gley
or so the poets say
and clear as mud
the future lies
we know 
we grow older
we only hope 
we grow wise
 

argy-bargy

i shy from confrontation
hope that those who've hurt
or wronged me will make it right
will intuit my anger and apologize
but they never care or recognize
and i cannot face an argy-bargy
wherein i must declare a side
though i know it might be better
than creating a divide filled
with an ocean of resentment
in which one could drown
oh, it would be my undoing
but i cannot hold a grudge either
and that saves me from ruin

volplane

the ground hurtles up
and I fall down
my destiny determined by gravity

not for me the grace
of the swan dive
as I volplane toward my fate

more the careening tailspin,
the frantic flailing of the jumper
without parachute in their pack

threshold

dawn arises
we crack our eyes
to greet the day anew
slough off the past
as sheets thrown back
we creak and crack
our old joints limber
step into our slippers
and cross the threshold
into wakefulness

bilious

no gentleman Jack
but ripper attack
hacking through
the body politic
the ginned populace
feasts upon sensation
parading past the stations
of the cross
they'd never bear
and in the parlor rooms
bilious rumor balloons
as the gentry mutter
'gainst the dirty
but the dirty deeds
appalled or applaud
whatever response
their audience needs

duende

               snake charmer
        transfixed
               undulating form
               wooing with
          inuendo
   and duende
        disarming and
                     hypnotizing
               to the beat
        of stamping      
                feet

pervade

of stardust made
threading a needle
with cobweb thread
to meticulously mend
the ephemeral moment
where converge a million
and bajillion could-have-beens
while wistful longing pervades
the misty fog surrounding us
a chatoyant bubble mid-burst

animus

i shudder inside
shaken and terrified
by the misdirected animus
of the violent one who blames us
for wrongs unreal and imagined
creating in him the falsest of legend
wherein we are all evil and he the great hero
to justify behavior that would certainly harrow
the heartiest stoic, the most placid nun,
the most patient saint, indeed, everyone
violent and vehement his rages concerning
the kind of a man to set the world burning

garner

like a hoarder
with an ebay account,
limitless credit,
and a penchant
for middle school
sports trophies;
i garnered all
your compliments -
put in plastic boxes
to display
as in a case
the shiny hollow words
with no value
but nostalgia
and kitsch

haywire

so easy to get
the message mixed
you think it's that
and they think it's this
and before you can blink
your signals are crossed
haywire the plan
you thought out
now just lost
the lines just too blurred
the life incomplete
all so fucking messy
the things you made neat
don't count on the ones
you thought on your side
they're out for themselves
those on whom you've relied
what out for yourself
make your own joy
don't count on that one
he's just a decoy

yips

he goes about his routine
like a well oiled machine
every day in comforting sameness
dull perhaps but ever blameless
for years and years
he grinds his gears
till lubrication thickening
disheartening and sickening
caught by the yips and stuck, sclerotic
immobilized by fear, paralyzed, neurotic
no more who he was
and afraid of who he'll be
he waits in place when he should leap
and see

loquacious

the trio of
your friends
and you
one silent
one salty
one ceaseless
dip my toes into
the loquacious river
and navigate the rapids
on a raft made of maybes
hoping to stay afloat
in my rickety boat
of anecdotes

moue

i know
i should
play the game
w/ puppy dog eyes
and sulky moue
to get you to do
what i want
you to do
but then
even when
i win
i lose

engender

would that a subtle word and a smile
would be enough to chisel a chink
into the wall you've built so tall
from over which you peep and wink
engendering the thoughts i think
that maybe you could climb over
or knock an opening through
so you could join me here
or i could come to you

oftentimes

end of day
upon the bed i lay
and relitigate conversations
i never even had
spin a story
so dramatic and so grand
i cannot pay attention
to the task at hand
sleep evades oftentimes
not because of things said or done
but because of things imagined

calaboose

with words for wood
and deeds for bars
we create
our own calaboose
to confine ourselves
and rail against the world
we claim put us there
as we hammer in the nails
and lock the door

ascetic

stark against 

the moonlit sky

the gnarled silhouette 

like an ascetic knight

stands sentinel to guard

our solemn campfire 

as we count the stars

drunk on summer

and summer wine 

squinny

see humanity as
a crone without her glasses
attempts to thread a needle
squinny at the slender implements
pinched between gnarled fingers
as pliable as dry wood
and make of them a tool
to stitch the world
into whole cloth
and wrap yourself within it

penchant

a fallow field renewed
the quiet moments stewed
and steeped to let the ground
receptive be to be unbound
grist to fine powder milled
and stranger things impelled
to grow in dusty silt
upon which a future built
turning the sediment to loam
a seed of love sweetly sown
from a penchant, a proclivity
born in sunlit impassivity

incoherent

frothing and rabid
in incoherent rage
the spittle forms
a viscous bridge
from lip to lip
as he trips over words
his logic insensible
defending the indefensible

catercorner

church spire rises
catercorner to the bench
where she sits in the square
watching the doors
awaiting the exit of those
bedecked with flowers
in white flowing satins and silks
and she dreams of the day
that should have been hers
before the war took him away
and her gnarled hands shake
as she scatters the breadcrumbs
feeding her memories and the birds

adumbrate

Too oft is has come to pass
that enthusiasm overrides
my sense and blinds me to
the little clues littered about
that adumbrate the inevitable end.
So stupefied, I stand still
until time creates a distance
of its own to mitigate the steps
I could not take in the wake
of another defeat. And yet,
this time I enter eyes wide,
but still no suggestion
of impending destruction
can I see.  I wonder
if I'm wearing blinders
or if, for once, there are
no flags of surrender
crimson from bloody battle
waving me off.

redoubt

hoard and hide
resplendent in your redoubt
no vestal virgin belted up
for chastity and patriarchy
more well defended than you
all your thoughts safeguarded
emotions well moated
and your complaint that
I never really knew you
shouted from behind portcullis
as though it were my fault
that you let no one in

oracular

repeating all the things
that might go wrong
because they never do
a litany of horrors
my prognostications
are not oracular
except in opposition
long ago I learned
not to list the hopes
lest they never come true

plagiary

certain i am
every hope & fear is
writ large upon my face
and mystery is forfeit.
if only
i could better feign...
guilty i would plead,
pleased with plagiary
stolen from a stoic
to guard me just a bit,
but that i cannot hide
from scrutinizing eyes.
so here i stand bare
awaiting judgement

valedictory

had i known
to what it would devolve
had i known
the depths to which i'd sink
had i known
the breadth of your disdain
i would have let
that awful day stand
as your valedictory refrain
i would have let myself
from memory abstain
i might
with foresight
have understood
that the good
was never all that good
it was only a veneer
to dress up the insincere
oh, that i had only known
i'd have sooner been absolved
from feeling unresolved