Archive for October, 2012

Gold and Silver Hearts

October 28, 2012

They say old hearts do not
like old dreams to go unachieved
and uncalled for. They say,
when the winds blow with a finesse
unheard of, and the trees shiver as if they knew
what was about to befall them,
and the black cats all creep into shadows
even darker than they are—
the toads will be asleep under rocks
no one will ever know the names of,
dreaming old dreams of gold
and silver men, with gold and silver hearts
who can neither dream nor sleep—
nor do they want to.

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Perfumes Left Behind

October 17, 2012

Forget that the dead grass was once
a moss so luminous on the rocks
it formed a double rainbow
of complicated white light and sinister,
ambrosial shadows—perfumes left behind
you might not think to breathe. Forget the songs
you want to sing; the hunter’s moon will steal
them off your lips. Forget the poems you might recite;
they won’t suffice for a fresh breeze, much less
to salute the stale air and morbid fantasies around you.
Forget that autumn is a kind of baroque senescence,
and that the dawn as it rises from the great sea
is about to breathe this same autumn air.
Forget that the sky is so pale. Forget it’s so serene.

Reply to Anna and John, while listening to Brian Eno

October 10, 2012

Not sad, just entanglement

not metaphor, just

an ambivalent vine, ambient

equivalent to other’s less aimlessness, less

coils, less in the light

less in sunlight then say day dreams

so peaceful, one’s so full of hope, once

one’s growth going down into the soil

the twisty syntax, a root personified.

Or what would be less than that.