Friday, March 28, 2014

'Little Birdie'



This Poem

I don’t want this poem crafted
with stanzas
or to end with a shocking ‘surprise’

Most certainly I do not want this poem to gob-smack
you right in between your eyes

I want this poem to be like a muzzle that sneaks up behind for a little cuddle 
I want this poem to be soft, feathery, and brown
I want this poem to grow right from the ground
I want this poem to be lighter than air
I want this poem to float everywhere
I want this poem to sing a sweet little song
I want this poem to just happen along
I want this poem to vanish as you turn your head
I want this poem to greet you as you rise up from your bed
I want this poem to fly fly away 
and to come back at the end of the day 
I want this poem to give you a thrill
I want this poem to meet you over there on the hill
and if you're in doubt the same time next year
I want this poem to reappear.


Wednesday, March 19, 2014

"How Dark is the Night?"





How dark is the night
when your baby boy
has left you?
alone on a nubby white bed
he no longer struggles 
but lies out
too puffy
My candle is
snuffed full out.
I cannot comprehend
no warmth in his small fingers
they curl up with the mourners
spread out in the room adjacent
grief stricken silence 
broken only by sobbing
I am 20…
(I am 20)
How dark is the night?


How dark is the night?
A mother sits looking
her head turned aside
leaving her baby to slip
slowly he slides...
downward but looking up 
grimy is the Appalachian 
Black water tendrils
as inward they glide along the curve of his skull 
confused is 
the look 
as farther he sinks
Black water, you lie!
You are a liar
There is no light in you
How dark is the night?


How dark is the night?
Must I walk these halls alone
with my vision obscured
banging my shins broken now bleeding 
Once vital the helper-now helped
I scratch my head asking
over I turn this
one thing
I ask
How dark is the night?