Category Archives: Posted Late

Poem: My Madness and I (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 5)

We’re…
We’re all…
We’re all mad…
…here…

I might be mad.
Seeing only lies
Fool’s gold truths
Creating a rhinestone and plastic fantasy
where nothing I know as true
is indubitably sound.
Terror is mold on the cork.
Loneliness is always
sour and astringent on the palate,
bittered, vinegared wine.

Crushing loneliness does not
make for a delicious vintage.
Its skin is sour,
bitter,
and vile.

Rather, I prefer to
squeeze
plump globes hanging heavy
from sturdy trunks,
fruit, or blood,
dripping down my arms
running floods beneath my feet.

I now serve the Mad God,
the Dying God,
the Reborn,
Thrice-born God.
(Io!)
He is a perfect study in madness.

This is the beginning,
I have just barely begun.
I will continue to follow Him.
Only through this journey
can I learn my own madness,
traced in the dust
by the soles of his sandalled feet.
The dust, and the lessons,
are not to be tamed,
nor erased,
but to be learned,
mapped, explored, loved,
reintegrated into myself
and taught how to be a good citizen.

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Poem: Untitled (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 4)

“What does it mean?”
What is real.
What does it mean?”
What is thought.
“What does it mean?”
What is within.
“What does it mean?”
What is mystery.
“What does it mean?”
What is truth.
What is color.
What is blood.
What is bone.
What is animal.
What is.

Poem: On Breath, Part I (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 3)

I want to live in the space between
your teeth
and
your tongue.
The gasps amongst words,
betwixt lines,
the mortar of stanzas;
here dwells the truest meaning
and most inscrutable.
You,
deeper than verbs,
wider than adjectives,
I want to sleep twined
with your letters.
I want to kiss your consonants
with flushed lips.
I want to sink
into
the
depths
of your vowels,
voluptuous, monolith, gorgeous noun of YOU.
I will pluck your subjunctive
like the strings of a cello,
fingers curved, beating
pizzicato pressure, precious
heady honey of Hebe
drenching my pluperfect
with vessel’s nectar,
Aphrodite’s lipstick still pressed to the edge.