Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Two Poems

Bends for a Time as if Tame

Already begun
the slipping away,
the traveler poem comes
on the crest of a wave,
seeking two or three words, maybe four.

The flank-heaving poem
rests in our care,
bends, for a time,
as if tame.
Next the words and the writer

stand on the shore
thanking the poem
for the time,
watching the poem
roll away.

Counting on You

I wish my voice
would rumble the bones
in your ear
as it thunders in mine,
could speak the same truth
it whispers in mine,
could sing the same song
that I'm hearing.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Out of dashed hope

Vacant, pungent,
stained and sweaty,
flailed wish and purpose,
aimless winged days winging

something rich with vigor
survives the cleaning up.

Some thing green and growing,
hardier than the decomposing
dream long since bled
out to dry,

and to dust.
Too long and too slow,
shuffling fate retains
a pulse,

sightless, intransigent pulse,
bizarre oasis
on a featureless plain,
the beating heart

invents, again,
what the mind forgets
or never knew.
It would be something

fierce, resurgent,
damp and earthy,
the beautiful face,
another sweet roar coming.