hark back

i wonder
if you
ever wonder
what we
could be
could we
hark back
to the early days
and incrementally
change our ways
would we still
end up at the end
of our days
where we did
or would we
have ended up
married with a kid
silly to brood
on a brood unbred
but that's just how it is
inside my head

obdurate

years like lacquer
overlay all in sepia
sense of self somehow
as obdurate as if
trapped in amber
awaiting a blast sander
to erode the varnish
of ego and return
to unfinished nature

fulcrum

the year turns
and in the turning
all the futures wait
upon the fulcrum
to find which way
the thing will swing

canorous

sweet nothings are as nothing
'gainst his dulcet timbre
for when drifting off
in slumber's piece of day
I have found no better way
than the canorous chords
of one Sir David Attenborough
singing me sweetly to sleep
descanting savanna songs
or arias of the arctic
engaging my mind in his
sonorous kind voice
and delightfully distracting
from the act of re-acting out
every conversation and blunder
that I have ever had
from the day that I was born
until the moment I go under

enervate

Loneliness: a succubus.
She comes in dark of night
& steals your soul,
enervates you so
before the dawn
you lie in exhausted wakefulness
murmuring wearied incantations
to exhort you into day.

utmost

though I have
done my utmost
to do the things
I thought I ought
somehow I
muddled am still
I evermore am
stood stuck
staring down
the crossroads
and dithering

benison

the world indeed is frightening
and full of chaos crumbling
but still in times of strife
there is hope where there is life
and tiny beinsons beget
greater kindnesses still yet
so be grateful and be grand
now the year's end close at hand

grinch

I love
your misanthropic mind
and see
myself reflected
Great grinches
we combine
to grouse
in harmony sublime

assuage

the yuletide carols
ring melancholy
in my ears this year
family far flung
and friends afield
easy ‘tis to lose
oneself in reverie
and muse upon
the might have beens
the chances
wished revised
and yet I would be
well advised to hold
dear to heart in hand
for in the knowing
that distance
relative remains
so uneasy soul
assuaged and the miles
are but as an inch
for in my heart
their love
all time resides

compendious

verbosity a masque
made to shroud the truth
the most compendious
commentary created
summarizes as
simply this
I love you

solstice

magic happens
at the thin times
on the edges 
when things are
neither one
nor t'other
solstices and
old/new moons
as the world dies
and is reborn
fish with lungs
or fish that fly
and don't
get me started
on the playtpus
only magic
could explain
the what or why

frenetic

as does a puppy,
upon seeing the leash
taken off the hook,
so does my heart
leap and dance and jig
with frenetic joy
when I see you

tchotchke

he has many names

he collects broken souls

shines them up
and displays them
behind closed glass doors
on antique shelves

as a doily-covered dowager
treasures her tchotchkes

so does he his souvenirs:
     first kisses
     last goodbyes
     bottled laughter
     decanted tears

millefleur

she lonely sits
among the stars
embroidering new worlds
with millefleur patterns
for the fields unfurled
she spins and sews and
stitches up the universe
it is her blessing
it is her curse

epitome

set up
for catastrophe
the epitome
of ignominy
perfect exemplar
of disgrace
shamefacedly
again abased

vitiate

all my good graces
my hard work lost
and all it took
was the wrong word
blurted in the wrong way
to vitiate it all
all my good graces
my love given grateful
and all it took
was a moment uncouth
and in that one moment
I learned the truth
that one thread pulled
unravels it all
to believe otherwise
I was a fool

nidus

youth to city flee

seeking the pulsing beat

nidus of creation dreaming 

hopes born in the rocking 

subway car of possibility 

and confidence multiply 

with others yearning 

with each new year

a new crop anew

zibeline

in woolly headed
sickness sorrow
staved off
in a blanket
of zibeline
comfort
honey tea
blankets and
a sighing purr

perennial

each

year around

this time I post

(I say each year but

each is too broad but still

you understand) each year

around this time I post a picture

of me as munchkin when I was

but wee, perennial favorite of me

and my

brother,

arm in

arm in

front of

the Christmas tree

from maybe 1983

lunette

you held
my hand
so tight
you left
a pattern
of lunettes
upon the skin
just as
you left
your mark
upon my heart

immure

origami girl
I fold in
upon myself
immured by the
uncertainties of
multitudinous maybes
make my paper limbs
crease and crinkle
tucked and turned
until I am
a paper box
built around
this tissue heart

repartee

smile and nod with grin affixed
searching for something new to say
"no, not going anywhere for the holiday.
not going anywhere at all,
no, no plans, just a quiet one,"
and try not to feel small.
"Bermuda...that sounds nice,
Pittsburgh...that sounds nice,
Hawaii...that sounds nice.
Sorry to hear to
Joey came with lice.
How's the baby,
how's your mother,
how's grad school,
how's the promotion?"
I go through the all motions:
I dole out the banter,
even some witty repartee,
all the time wondering
when I can sneak away.

galumph

amongst the midnight whispers 

the cacophony crashes 

as hope galumphs into the room 

stumbling through inebriation 

before flinging itself into

an uneasy dream of tomorrow 

approbation

need food and air 

for sure and shelter too

but after those are settled

who doesn't also long

for the approbation of our peers

a smile at the end of days

a hand to hold to calm our fears

a light in someone's eye

that lit up just for you

something about which to dream

something to look forward to

within we ache for all

we survive without

sandbag

macro made by micro
dust dance immobilized
sneezing in succession
sandbagged by sensation
trapped inside explosions

dossier

i study
the crinkle
in the corner
of your eyes
when you smile
as though i would
compile a dossier
detailing every little
line of delight so
on some far off night
i could pull out your file
and find you again
in the pages and
revisit that smile
for the ages

abandon

you'd have had
me always be
a floppy-eared,
big-pawed puppy
running in clumsy joy
with heedless abandon
barrelling you down
with every greeting
whimsical at every meeting
you'd have had me be
giddy and gleeful
and sometimes that's true
silly and strumming a ukulele
but sometimes, I'm somber too
and sometimes I'm sad
sometimes serious
sometimes mad
I have many facets
and that's not bad

perspicacious

they marvel and
make of her the mystic
perceive portent
in the content of her speech
they would have of her
to preach and call her prophet
and would profit off her ability
claim she sees into the beyond
but merely perspicacious
she pays attention
and mentions what is true
and so to them
too lazy to look themselves
she is magic
through and through

circumvent

the new guy
in the office
would play
each of us
against each other
like a devious child
pitting parents
in petulance
seeking to
circumvent
their intent

sciental

beyond the
explicative
this tiny particle
of a something
no sciental sense
of how it became
or pending expiration
no classification
to name it
no view
within which
to frame it
except to call it
love

mayhem

wandering the streets
or wondering over
my own decorations
the glorious mayhem
of the holiday season
lights and holly and
smiles and cheer
in the early darkness
at the closing of year
a myriad of strangers
are suddenly friends
a bright shining spot
before the year ends

dram

myth
more
enticing
than man:
a bitter dram,
the truth.
we drink
our poison
to forget,
we drink
to regret,
we fight
nail & tooth.
painstaking
proof
washed down
in vodka
and vermouth.

ritzy

downmarket
more my vibe
give me the dark
and dingy dive
with beers on tap
and the cocktail menu
is "do you want
a shot with that?"
in ritzy joints
I'm outta place
where fancy people
show their face

betwixt

i have
oft found
that by some
i hold dear
i am held
in a particular fix
stuck betwixt
one thing
and t'other
neither exactly
friend nor lover
i do not mind
the limbo much
but i would not
call it comfortable
as such

yahoo

flinging tension
like laser beams
in invisible pew pews
we dance it out
inebriate yahoos
drowning our sorrows
in an ocean of booze
and mending
our boohoos
and booboos

quirk

I've yet to discover
from whence it springs,
this quirk of character
that means I never
accomplish a thing
until I have gone
the wrong way round
at least once or twice.
If you know quite why that is,
I'd welcome the advice.

occlusion

see, i cannot see you anymore

age and the cacophony of daily life
act as an occlusion to perception
where youth and simplicity
allowed your company
now you are but as
an imaginary friend left
behind in adolescent pique
saved in hazy memory
still you are dear evermore

anymore you see, cannot i see?

audacious

I live a mostly quiet life
with quiet hopes and deeds
but in my secret spaces
my heart leaps audacious
and sings a cabaret
and a dances a burlesque
behind the everyday
within my quiet chest

impromptu

a pinch of this

a dash of that

slapdash recipe 

made of the mix

of you and me

an impromptu feast

surprise sauced 

with enterprise 

cornucopia

life is
a tricksy thing
a fairy feast
on table lain
this cornucopia
of delights
and mischief mixt
and we are
all bewildered and
bewitched
hungry children
we gobble goodies
till swollen and sated
we sleep

noisome

The leering eye as
He leans in
To kiss your cheek
And tries
To peer down your top
With bug eyed ogle.
And as his mouth
Nears your face
You stiffen against
His noisome breath that
Could peel the paint
From the wall behind you
And all you can think
Is “thank god, it’s only
Once a year.

perforce

we do not choose our family
we are dropped into it
and are forced, perforce,
to find our way...
and in so many ways
are shaped by felicity
or absence or belligerence
in which to
make ourselves
and someday
make ourselves anew
blessed or cursed by view
weathered by, and with
or against we all must
muddle through

henchman

loyalty led him here
beyond the realm of right
too far gone he finds himself
remorseful henchman now
he  wonders where it was
the moment when no
was still an option
he’ll go down
in this ship
he never
steered

chapel

deep in the woods
made of moss
and tangled tree limbs
a chapel with one bench
next to a crooked cross
of weathered rock
and on the makeshift alter
scratched this melancholy song
“for one who loved this place
from one who loves her still
though the years are long
and many years have passed
since she’s been gone”

susurrous

beyond the edge of hearing

they come to you at night 

in insidious susurrous

the quiet lies of doubt

telling you 

your worst fears

are true

I find 

music helps

to drown it out 

exculpate

i recognize i'm quick to hurt
wounded too easy by passing slights
wary too oft and hold on too long

i recognize i leap before i look
and blame the ground whereon i land
for giving no support, forgiving no support

i recognize my role in love gone wrong
and though it does not exculpate me
in recompense, in my defense, this:

i don't love easy
but i do love
my love hard and fast
for i don't love many
but i do love muchly
and when i love
i love to last

memento

I
find them

even now

every now

and
then

little       pieces     of you

fallen     behind the      desk

at the          back of the       closet

lodged        between the       pages

     of a         book I started     reading

   once upon
  a time

  and long ago

 tiny mementos

    that keep     you here

      beyond          the grasp 

    of grave           and grief

tomfoolery

time for childish things 

ephemeral as a bubble 

blown from baby lips

as it burbles and puckers

and suddenly it’s time

for tomfoolery and suckers

then coffee and consequences 

the wine and wistfulness 

and nostalgic whimsy 

before we end

and begin again 

recalcitrant

time has passed,
the world moves on
and still...
my recalcitrant heart
holds a dream best forgot.
a security blanket
of a wistful wish.
I would teach it
new aspirations
if I could just
make my stubborn soul
let go the binky
of Perhaps.

admonish

heart scolds head
for being too exacting
for plotting not reacting
head admonishes heart
for being oversensitive
for giving all she has to give
head would save a little
heart blames head
for being noncommittal
and in between them both
I try to arbitrate
but fear that an accord
will come too late
too late too late too late
already it's so late

valorous

they saw a need

they saw and sent 

themselves, their souls;

their sons and daughters 

as children told 

how valorous they stood

against a tide of terror 

that threatened sovereignty and democracy
a tide that disregarded diplomacy
and disrespected diversity and individuality 

against the tide
some lost their lives
and some lost husbands
and some lost wives
and some lost fathers or mothers
or sisters or brothers or friends
so many lost back then

still, they turned back the tide

for a time

but tides rise and fall and rise again
not if but when
and now that when is now again

will you stand
to face the wave
and fight
or will you watch
as all are drowned
by the fury and the sound
of those who think
that might makes right 

furlong

the music of the city
faded into the past
and all that's left
is the memory of
a whisper of a plane
flying far overhead
each furlong trod
measured out in
the birdsong and
the scurry of furry feet
release you from
the pounding beat
of asphalt locked
within your bones

boustrophedon

the word is full of wonder
oot snoitcidartnoc dna
snaking this way and that
kcab ot tnorf gnidaer
 or back to front in
nodehportsuob fo yalpsid a
 so run our thoughts
ssorca rehtiht dna rehtih
the mural of ours minds

*

the word is full of wonder

too contradictions and

snaking this way and that

back to front reading

or back to front in

boustrophedon of display a

so run our thoughts

across thither and hither

the mural of ours minds

*

 the word is full of wonder
and contradictions too
snaking this way and that
reading front to back
 or back to front in
a display of boustrophedon
so run our thoughts
hither and thither across
the mural of ours minds

palmary

a balm to heartsore warriors
collapsed at daybreak
from warding off the night
palmary coffee
restoring pluck
writer's pick me up

derring-do

fluorescent
flickers overhead
and our heads pulse
and throb in kind
we lose ourselves
and our collective mind
in row after cubicle row
a cell block we designed
and on our break from one to two
we daydream over salad
a life of derring-do

umbrage

i may respect
but cannot forgive
those who hold
their purity of purpose
above morality
i take umbrage with
the absolutes
who cannot see
that privilege allows
a laxity in community
it is hard to know
what hill to die upon
but die we all do
hopefully before we go
we push the next ones
past and through

mordant

another year
has passed
time teases with
its mordant wit
and laughs at
our dismay
what age
has wrought
what little life
has taught
what joy
has brought
what wisdom
grief has bought
all of it
a little
and a lot

gridiron

i fondly recollect
all the times we spent
watching rugby
in that little Aussie town
his face so smooth
for one so old
and he so full of love
for me and sport
would call our
US game gridiron
as football
was another thing entire
and not to be confused
or sullied thus

sinew

gone the days
where i could
flip on the tv
or scan
a newspaper
or website
insouciant
instead taut
like a sinew
about to snap
and lame me
with every
click or flick
i prepare to
be hobbled

connive

that ever thus it was it thus shall be
that hearts are meant to thrive
and those that cannot grow
a love their own do ever threaten
to cajole or to connive
to steal the joy that others gladly give
to break the hearts laid bare right at their feet
they never understand or value quite
the gratis love that's found as equals meet

verbose

now is the month
of the click clicky clack
the month where the aspiring
figure out if they can hack
their brains just a little
and throw out all their process
just get it all down
no matter how verbose it is
clena it up later
the drfat is the thiong
ignoring the spell check
write until teh bell goes ding

lycanthropy

we all have our phases
pulled by orbital gravities
our inner tides rise and fall
and though we may not sprout
tails or talons, teeth or claw
lycanthropy affects us all


rawr

caterwaul

as a wounded animal
just when the trap
snaps shut
so from our mouths
a collective caterwaul
of confusion
and anguish
as we inch closer
to armageddon

shambles

the innocents slaughtered

politicians say a madman is to blame
not the system that they've built
on violent rhetoric and donations

as schools and stores and synagogues
are turned into a shambles

the politicians cry
"we'll never stop every madman
so why would we even try,
here's some thoughts and prayers"

but never real reform

never the gunmen
or lobbies to disarm

multitudinous

the barrage incessant
multitudinous sorrows
delivered by this world
we must find our comfort
where we may

pamphleteer

where once the humble pamphleteer
now pundits preen on every stage
and every thought is given voice
on every screen and webpage
but measured voices all are drowned
in the cacophony that abounds

holy writ

anger rises as bile
threatens to burn
a hole within my breast
eat away my esophagus
and melt my heart
into an acid pile of goo
for what I took as holy writ
now I know was never true

fugacious

smog does not
burn off like morning mist
but clings and chokes
our throats and bleeds
our lungs like smoke
such was our fugacious hope
that this obfuscating brume
in democracy's sunshine
would melt away

indoctrinate

seeing them
both young and old
ignoring scientists' report
ignoring facts
that don't support
what they were told
was in their best interest
by pundits paid
by special interests
grasping all
for wealth and power
on faux news
hour after hour after hour
they would not believe it so
in fact would say it's me
indoctrinated by
the liberal media
yet I would question
their summation
based upon my education
I was taught, it's true
but I was taught to ask
the where, the why,
the how, the who
I was taught to
check my source
to question both
the mouth and horse
straight from whence
the "truth" was told
and reason out
reasonable doubt

mawkish

pendulum swings
from anger to weeping
from mawkish to maudlin
breathtakingly sweeping
mad as hell
or mad as a hatter
oh, what does it matter
he knows the right people
and looks the right way
it makes absolutely no difference
whatever he'd say
and that, my dear friends,
is privilege exemplified
he took the ticket
we take the ride

brouhaha

to build a pillow fort
and hide away
from the brouhaha
of what has become
the every fucking day
more tempting
than a siren's song
but no, no rest
for the weary yet
we must fight dragons
in more pernicious shapes
than ever myth may wield
we must band together
'gainst the monsters
and refuse to yield

rebuff

in stasis
carbonite could not
trap me better
than indecision has
unwelcome respite
nonetheless
I still rebuff advances
made in less than earnest
escape desired
from the shackles
of a book and barstool
but desperation delayed
I wait

superjacent

we being begin
a decoupage 
bits and pieces 
of times and places
persons met
decisions made
glued superjacent
built up in layers
around a frame
the world designed
filled with joy
and anguish too
piñatas waiting in
desolation or celebration
for the universal stick
to swing and spill us

linchpin

unjust
that it is so
but so it is
we feel the loss
of some more keenly
for in their loss
we others lose
unlikely linchpins

their absence
leaves a wake
by which
we are dispersed
as the is
dissolves into was
and the us
into they

de rigueur

that it was once
de rigueur among my set
to daily drudge and toil
with the ardor of youth
and a dream of tomorrow
was fine and good
for that's what youth
is made for 
and yet somehow still
here I remain dreaming
and drudging 
and they have all seeming
moved right along
their work seems worth more
their lives like a song
and yet I know
that seems is not is
the difference between
wine and champagne
more than just fizz

acceptation

the frailty of normality
is the thickness of a strand of hair
this tenuous thread we walk upon
to cross a chasm over a gaping maw
where acid geysers spit and spew
refute the former acceptation of
the acceptable; no more the world
we thought we knew.
civility only works when calibrated to
a universal that everyone claims.
wherein lies the civil
when babies are in chains?
when young black men are slain?
when women's truth disdained?
rise up and lend your voice, for certain,
to make your mark but mark this more,
go make your mark behind the curtain

nary

the world cracks and crumbles
baked by drought and ceaseless sun
her native grasses of more peaceful days
tassels in the wind long gone
dug up for a pasture long past
and now the desert dust blown in
the rain, an inconstant lover
drops by and as soon leaves again
no roots to hold her and nary a soul
save a rustle in the scrub can stay
like the rain, the people gone away

tergiversation

she did not mind
the lack of love
but that he claim her
as friend sans respect

agency removed
told what she should know
but no more
his sins omitted
and her teeth gritted

truth so deflected in a
linguistic mirror with distortions
these tergiversations let her go
relieved her of regret
but could not make her forget

crapulous

even by his own standards
crapulous, he crumbled
tilting towards the floor
but for the bar grasped as
a sailor in a typhoon swell
and looked to me
as though with all
my mighty height
of five foot four
I could maneuver his
six foot three
back towards the door
and drag him home
oh, better tis to be alone
I do not miss those days
no, I do not miss that man
and when I lonesome pine
I ever mumble this refrain
better all my days forlorn
than deal with that again

quip

oh love
despite my drought
still hope remains
that one will come
take up my reins
and lead me cross
the barren plains
to love
with laughing quips
our repartee
equipped with smiles
my fear allay
and all my awkwardness
he'll say
is charming more
than my dismay
my love

emblazon

as a nervous mother might
before her child, off to camp is sent
stitch within each item
the name to whom each thing belongs

so would I
across your heart emblazon my name
that I might claim a space forever there

as is your name
upon my heart
not writ
but branded

by and large

         the leaves swirl
               in little
          leaf tornadoes
      as they fall
from tree
   to ground
      by and large
           a ballet
              danced without
             an audience
        how lucky then
             are we
        to catch
   this matinee

Luddite

they mock me
for my old phone
but I still get my calls
they mock me
for my old tech
yes, they're all so in thrall
to the internet of things
and every little toy
that beeps and dings

but when the waves rise up
and when the power goes
their gadgets will all brick,
their gewgaws and gizmos,
and Luddite that I am will laugh
because even without video
I still know how to cook and sew

ambivalent

the towering wave
about to topple
sang froid difficult
when confronted
where the ambivalent
by the violent are swayed
they cannot be bothered
to defend against the tide
and faith's erosion
taken as inevitable
and not regrettable

Occident

no accident
how oft we orient
by Occident
the writers of
our western histories
hold up themselves
as GMTs
and set the world
by their own store
sharing less
instead of more
the news we hear
most oft our own
the maps we read
reflect one zone
this narrow focus
makes us worse
the world is wide
the world diverse
the more we know
the more we care
we grow the greater
the more we share

scintillate

kindred spirits
recognized as eyes
light up like fireflies
when conversation
scintillates as shy
reticence abates

gloaming

beyond the firelight
shadows lengthen
as the gloaming sets in
the crickets begin
chirrupping to fiddle
their end of summer serenade
campfire smoke billows
infiltrates your hair and clothes
to remind you tomorrow
of tonight

peripeteia

a slow groove channel dug
by water trickling
till twenty years have passed
lost in routine and daydream
from the bottom of a canyon
waiting for a delusive deus ex machina
to catalyze a peripeteia
to catapult above the ledge
of omnipresent twilight
in your self made shade

the choice
now to climb
to see the sun
or be resigned
to the comfort
of your known dark

intestine (adjective)

when the people running a thing
are set on ruining a thing
to prove that there's no value to be found

in the thing they've spent their lives
and fortunes and husbands and wives
to get to run into the ground

when intestine altercations
tear apart a party from inside
when all good men and women
look for a safe place to hide

when those brow beaten every day
who by all rights should hide away
instead stand in front of the rushing train

when whether cause false or true
we all are exhorted to
the equivalent of "remember the Maine"

when the unjust are entrusted with justice
who will stand up for the rest of us

weltschmerz

oh, the sturm and drang of adolescence
when everything full of importance
in doldrums of middle age the war we wage
most oft against ourself and not the world
and finds us filled with weltschmerz
for a time when we raged instead of disengaged

cloister

how you all
don't succumb
to the temptation
to cloister
your children
and hide them
from the wicked world
I will never comprehend
but I am glad
that you do not
for they must learn
what it is
to remake it

manifesto

the temptation grows
to retreat
to cabin or cave
and scribble
a million manifestos
wherein I rant and rave
and bemoan
what the world's become
hidden away
from everyone

rodomontade

he parades
part of the cavalcade
reciting his rodomontade
inciting imaginary cavalry
with bluster in place of bravery

nocuous

they tremble in terror
rage so that spittle flies
they make a big scene
to deflect from their lies
they cannot comprehend
their word deemed not enough
that anyone dare doubt
or call out their bluff
they’ve never once thought
how others are treated
like this every day
till spirits defeated
the atmosphere nocuous
with belligerent privilege
too myopic to see
the extent of their damage

trousseau

yellowing lace
in a cedar box
neatly folded
outmoded hopes
auctioned off
ancient trousseau
for a love that died
a long, long time ago

orotund

again again again
the orotund old men
threaten or cajole
certain that their role
is to direct and overpower
as if to woo or wow her
but never
do they stop and think
as they drive her
to the brink
of the damage done
by youth and drink
and cruelty and privilege
as they drive her off the ledge
and when she falls
KABAM KERSPLAT
they pity him
who witnessed that
but never her
the one ambushed
the one they fought
the one they pushed

habiliment

grey cobbles shine
like aquarium pebbles
as neon rain reflects in
mirror shoe-shine black boots
he wear the fog
like a 1940s noir novel
his habiliments, like himself,
an anachronistic hodgepodge
a hedgehog tone poem
soft belly vulnerable as
his heart song swells
a trolley bell
heard before seen
in the early morning scene

secrete

she wept
behind the smiles
secreted away
her tears
her fears
and pretended
the past never happened
and he pretended
the past never happened
and he moved on
a bit more brutal
and she moved on
a bit more broken
and the world said to both

the past never happened

glade

in autumn dusk
as winter made
together dance
in fairy glade
‘mongst red and brown
and orange leaves
that pirouette
upon the breeze
to usher in
the time of rest
wherein the land
holds its breath

biannual

interstitial lassitude
in biannual frequency
a personal equinox
wherein i turn away
or towards the sun
a spring or autumn
sine wave sinuous
left hand sinister
in in-between spaces
i stir

viva voce

down the ages
mother to daughter
father to son
midnight whispers
tell the tale
viva voce
of the one

panoply

apart
but still
a part
the panoply
parades on by
and I
I walk behind
the great and grand
reach out a hand
and I
I walk behind
alone aloof
I gather proof
from the scraps
they left behind
and of their remains
make poetic strains
as I
I walk behind

milieu

atrophy 

has made
this of me

my milieu
this
abandoned patch 

of ground
planted here 

earthbound

yet I strive 

to touch the sun

flowering beyond

what one might

have thought

i ought

atone

never having been popular
fear of being unlikable
makes me a pushover
eats me up inside
had I more pride
perhaps I would
stand up for myself
to atone for one
failure of character
and so doing
perhaps eliminate the other
but the risk so great
and my history teaches me
that I am dispensable
to some I find indispensable 
for them I can be
the fiercest advocate
for them. for everyone
but me

lenitive

the ritual begins
the tap/the kettle/the flame
the whistling/the same/the same
every time the same
the leaves/the pot/the pour
put the top on top
and wait to steep
refreshing as a sleep
the pour/the steam
refreshing as a dream
adding the milk, drip by drip
the stir/the puff/the wait to sip
the lenitive properties
of a cup of tea
restoring peace
sustaining me

chiliad

the space of days
since last we met
seems a chiliad
but also a breath

whether a day
or a decade
it is always too long
but also only yesterday

resplendent

painted
in purples and pinks
ochers and umbers
resplendent
in her swirling gown
the sun
dances down the day
and the sky
and I
both change
to sleep

melancholia

it is not nostalgia
nor melancholia
not quite but akin
this feeling that
washes over me when
I recall you calling me
sweet and whimsically
to pun me out
of sadness slyly
your melankylie

advert

twixt three and four
of afternoon
day slows
blood sugar drops
so do my thoughts
adverting to
conversations
best forgot
or never even had
beyond a wink
& solemn nod
they turn to
garbled songs
or made up
playground gods
until the phone rings
or email dings
or cat's meow
and I drag myself
again to now

taradiddle

replace the lie with truth

til truth is commonplace

we forgive the child

their taradiddle told to save face

or assume they act out for attention

but make no such concession

for the abettors of democracy's demise
for mendacity in men and women

elders but not betters

older but less wise

enigmatic

a poem for emily

only she will understand

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SPUNKY JIMBO

deportment

to
those who judge finesse of ferocity
those who would champion mediocrity
if it came with pretty smile and was demure under duress
to
they who make as though a woman
who breaks the mold is not more but less
but might forgive her if she wears the right dress
to
those who care more
for deportment
than achievement
to
you - history will not kindly remember you
and there's plenty of us right now
who think you should fuck right off
too

fathom

bottomless wells

walking around with an

infinite abyss within

we cannot fathom

our own depths much less

the walking well next to us

but still we shout

we love an echo

wanderlust

feet itching and heart sore
wanderlust fills
the empty space within
and I long to begin again
the best balm for loneliness
new worlds to explore

periphrasis

I am guilty
I admit
pith flees
brevity not
my soul’s wit
plagued by periphrasis
my mouth runs away
would I had an editor
to curb
my conversational dismay

schmooze

I understand the need
the networking
the self-promotion
the marketing
the devotion
to schmooze the VIPs
to know who it is
I need to please
I understand to get ahead
egos should be stroked
egos should be fed
but there it is...
ambition lost;
I want success
but not the cost

quiddity

I have not known you long
nor known you deeply
I cannot familiarity claim
or even name your author
you are, to me, a new book
spine uncracked, pages crisp
and though as yet unread
the quiddity of you
shines through enough to tempt
this bookworm to burrow
and find myself in
your chapter and verse

banshee

a sultry August subway hall
when first I heard the banshee call
a wail heralding the death of us as us
making "us"
a you
and
a me

a kiss goodbye
followed by you charging down the stairs
unawares that I looked back
and you did not

I looked back
for one more glimpse
as every time before
and you walked away
looking back no more

then I knew

and in my knowing had to stew
for days until you did
what, I guess, you had to do

ingratiate

I wash my hands
of the whole enterprise
I grow weary not wise
the attempt to find
a kindred mind and spirit
dispiriting in the extreme
exhausting beyond measure
to ingratiate myself with
those who give me pleasure
and find that still it's not enough
better instead to toughen up
and forge ahead alone
than chase my tail
chasing tail
like a dog digging
for a phantom bone

mentor

a midnight confusion
clouds my mind
and settles in to take root
a weed seeded by ill winds
mentors have I had
in gardening gear
to show with hoe and spade
to leave the flowers
but still my bed in disarray
watered by too many showers

coeval

life lived a million times
a multiverse of maybes
and comfort found
in the concept that coeval
to this life there is another
wherein regrets are lived
and other choices made
and neither better or worse
but complete

symposium

were i to host
a symposium
for all my exes
to expound on why
the stars aligned
not with me
but with the next
what would i expect
and what would i learn
and what would i change
could the stars be rearranged
ever was i early
born under a late star
i overcompensate

duress

like coal
compressed
he would not break
but made a diamond
under duress
and like a diamond
complicated yet clear
though clearly flawed too
he was cut
in the shape of his time
reflecting back to some
to some he'd shine
bright as a star
however you saw him
we shall see his like
no more

buttonhole

you don't even see
the misogyny
as you buttonhole me
as you mansplain the thing
that I said first
but you dismissed
because?
my purse?
my pursed lips?
my lipsticks?
you say you'd say the same
regardless of my gender or name
but i see you interact
with respect and tact
with those who have
not a purse but a sack

taciturn

do I want a Darcy?

taciturn and aloof

rarely showing proof

of affection through

his layered affectation,

always sending my thoughts

in the wrong direction,

but beneath it all -

the soul of discretion

and of temperament fine

once the line of acquaintance

is crossed? Am I Lizzie

or am I lost in another book?

am I an Emma by a Knightly forsook?

am I a Dashwood? a Morland? an Elliot?

am I a Fanny; timid, insipid, and delicate?

or am I Isabella? or worse, am I a Lydia

who's destined for penury, censure, chlamydia? 

am I too rash or too rude or too guilty

to score for myself a man like a Tilney?

Or perhaps I should stop

to ask what it's costing -

judging all men (and myself)

by the standards of Austen.

lodestar

when the fog sets in
when the stars are dim
still I find my way
from my lodestar shining
with sextant and compass
I rechart my course by you
you've yet to steer me wrong

rubric

he performed
a million little actions
all of which would fall
under the rubric of love
but never said the words
a broker heart
she died thereof
than that she might
she didn't know for sure
if he loved or
if she just inferred

puissant

the darkened street
at once puissant
and persuasive
nostalgia pervasive
as kisses remembered
after absence destructive
friendship constructed
from romance deducted
forgiveness belated
as streetlight flickers
like a flame deflated

jaunty

my heart will fall again 

I know

for a crooked smile

under a jaunty hat

a cardigan cloaked

arm will reach to me

and the dissipation of 

my dissolution will

drop like the leaves

and in seasons turn

so will I too

marshal

pots and pans
a'clanging
with wooden spoon
she's banging
the lids she'll smash
like cymbals
and smile
with those dimples
the marshal
of her own parade
this joyful creature
that you made

oblige

________:
requite gratefully
or refuse gently

________:
given freely;
taken sometimes;
discarded often

________:
obliges one to empathize
or it is but avarice

________:
so varied and nuanced
recognizable more in absence

exigent

sunlit motes ballet
the day begins
and I begin, too
floating like dust
and like dust
I can choke or
sunlight sparkle
this moment's peace
before peace forgot
in the face of
a million little fires
set by mishap's matches
the exigent overwhelms
by day's end, heaven knows
so for just a moment more
I cherish this repose

cerulean

those moments lasted hours
we would lay on our sides
i would float through the skies
of your cerulean eyes as a bird
riding thermals in lazy circles
and i never saw the hurricane