i took a few (a lot)
of punches to the head
when i was younger (no jokes)
when i boxed/fought/beat the anger out in fists on flesh
i was that kind of fighter
let me fall or fail but not before
he feels the force of this life…my life
transferred through me like a Newton’s Cradle
crashing into his fresh face…
only to come back, though less than before
and in the end i would always win
in blood and cancerous clouds of smoke
i was never a boxer…
i was a cannon the world aimed at others
Tag: poetry
wrestle till dawn
point the battered boat
into towering waters
and settle in for the ride
whether down to drown
or beach on foreign shore
there are some powers
too strong to wrestle till dawn
let the journey be the blessed end
and not the end itself
break.
break.
in time
proud, graven cliff
worn
years of yesterdays
every wind and wave
is sand in the sea
washed to the four corners
single, solitary
bone of the earth
it…disappears
only to reappear
everywhere
I remake along the way
I am a gear
outside of time
a cog enmeshed
in a bigger picture
painted while painting
I am a star
in a background sky
before and behind
darkening clouds
hung among other sons
strung among daughters
following a made course
I remake along the way
Waning
Shhhhh…
quiet sweeps the flood
across this brutal world
gathering the small hearts
in its killing embrace
taking us all
to our final resting place
at night when the sun has set
where we will dance as little ones
before the waning moon
brutal world
what weak wall am i
what shelter for my littlest
from the evil tide that pours
through all my ragged rips
runs through my wounds
and past my grasping fingertips
to drown them before my eyes
how is a father to keep
all his small hearts safe
from broken reaching hands
without killing the whole world…
i want to kill the whole brutal world
eroding earth
this night world
the prairie world
away from metropolitan
away from civilization
as many would know it
it hums and buzzes
there are eternal wheels rolling
wearing down thin asphalt
while halogen lamps whine
to light this small darkness
there is no quiet place
no silent place
only a wavering sea of sound
ebbing waves pulled like sonic tides
by the sheer gravity of us
we towns and cities
we clustered and bound moons
across an eroding earth
i would rather
sometimes the thread-bare tears
in this thin skin
make themselves known
in the strangest ways
like a light pierced shadow
or pain in the unexpected moments
a stopped heart beat
that weighs ache-hard inside
i would rather the wild wind
lift this frame – a kite lost to the skies
then blast through the holes
but for the grace
there but for the grace
go i go i go i go i
there but for the precious lives
that spin their brilliant silver webs
in my gharish gloom i sometimes spy
in my hoary heart and shuttered eye
there but for another’s light
do i keep my lamp burning bright
against this self-imposed, never-ending night
till dawn brings clear salvific sight
go i go i go i go i
the hearts i want to keep
this road
it ends, it ends
a ways away
tomorrow or
today
but not before
the undone’s done
pray
not before
the setting sun
casts a last shadow
along the space
between my feet
and the hearts
I wish to keep