P(oem)-A-D(ay) n° 5

can my heartbeat
drum a path to eternal music
far from you, to a reuniting

my soul is shattered a hundred-fold
in this one place we never
discovered

but to lose myself in the fragrance
of lilac and azalea
death is not my option

waterfalls woo my cooling blood
in this choice
to embrace forgetfulness

on this island paradise
my feet tread my senses
towards delights only you relished

I was always blind until
your joy led me
reminded me of life

the warmth of your love
has abandoned the sunlight
moonlight is no longer my salvation


to lose myself…
[2012.5.4…a]

P(oem)-A-D(ay) n° 4

my voices reign in silence
the strange people have cast aside
their fondness for exciting gray matter
their words have faded
to no longer admonish
or coax with coy repartee
no more murmuring

internal blizzard creates turmoil
upon the mime of my mind
white nothingness surrounds me
an infinite visual stimulation
yet I cannot count the flakes
nor revel in their diversity
snowfall also reigns in silence
this storm which numbs my brain
is a first warning
a demise for my never-ending story

if my voices have deserted me
can my heartbeat
drum a path to eternal music


the warning of silence
[2012.4.4…a]

P(oem)-A-D(ay) n° 3

I have epitaphs to sell
death outlasts life in barrenness
where salt-poisoned rivers snake
in labyrinths through sandscape
beauty is a souvenir

I have stories to tell
unbelievable tales, fairy dances
falsehood spun to spurn eternity
but the songs of the wind are silent

outstretched over the graveyard
I stand tall and gnarled, twisted and proud
I alone have survived a hundred decades
my strong limbs battle the elements’ disdain
they leave shadows as vast as the horizon
my heart-shaped leaves wither twice yearly
the first are pale like the moon’s reflection
the second blaze like blood-fall
my flowers are like extinct snowflakes
death’s tears nourish my roots
they reach bedrock where dreams linger
and I, the last witness
may never sleep

I have secrets that quell
endless days of blinding light
like love’s destiny carved deep
weeping words pierce my bark
children die alone
generations of ghosts

there are no more epitaphs to sell
my voices reign in silence


the last witness
[2012.3.4…a]

P(oem)-A-D(ay) n° 2

wishes of a poet trying to avoid foolishness
my lifetime verse is listed in reams
my fingers whisper only pianissimo songs

dying

like other dreams quickly vying for death’s grace
who will recite simple prayers for its eternal soul
when I cover it in soft loamy earth?

wild violets

planted in ceramic under a glass bell
poised atop a marble tombstone, purple
like the bruises clawing at my soul

pain does not…

allow my freedom
the least movement jars each nerve
overdose or amputation might kill temptation

I cannot write
brushes only paint in abstract splashes
music, that once sparkled with two hands

has become inaudible sound

spoken with a shaky voice
caught by posterity’s microphone
I have epitaphs to sell


the silent hand
[2012.2.4…a]

P(oem)-A-D(ay) n° 1

April first
bangs its fist against showers and colorful flowers
in a tempestuous home-coming
and a slight fight with winter’s worst chills

the cat scratches at the window like a crazed banshee
he has an extra layer of fur for the balcony’s arctic exploration
or the simple genetic expression of wild bird chases

after dissipating the morning haze, the sun tries for brightness
skies veer towards a tint of jazzy blue-without-blues
but I will wear wool to the market
gloves and scarves to break the wind's cheerfulness

the season to be jolly has gone although Scrooge has returned
he forgot fire and brimstone and the devil's ashen thunder
scheduled complaints in July if frogs don’t fall from the sky

Mother Nature has been kidnapped by a single-nation-consortium
of ultra-right-wing-religiously-reborn-politicians-cum-fanatics
holding out for the highest interest rates

in Zimbabwe, will blizzards admonish the poachers today?
will record setting sweltering melt the glaciers in Iceland?
will monsoons turn the Sahara into a soggy playground?

the Baskerville Hounds will howl
hear them and cringe, for disaster abounds

half-life dust from Fukushima and Chernobyl
and Hiroshima’s remains slowly shred ozone layers
the dwindling Amazon forest cancers Earth’s lungs
Apocalyptic threats of end-of-time cauterize New Year’s merriment
terrorist world strife forewarns wars for religious domination
the poor munch on bread, drink unclean water, sleep in tents

the rich — smother them in their pillows made of gold —
no, fuck the rich, they should taste the progress of rape
they will dream of twin towers inferno as death covets their treasures
they didn’t reflect on slight irregularities plaguing the global thermostat
blinded by millions just like true love

to deem life would remain sweet and simple is out of style
mile-high wishes of gentle poets trying not to be fools...


not so far off course
[2012.1.4...a]