Friday, June 5, 2015

June 5 -- Night Poem

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    On Elizabeth Pass
    Cradled by the night
    Lying free at last
    Miles from any man
    High upon the ridge
    Chasm dark below
    The moon indifferent
    And through the pine trees
    Keening howls like fingers

    1. That's fantastic. I love that you've made the moon indifferent!

    2. "Keening howls like fingers " ... a poem by itself !

  2. The cabin opened
    into the black of
    a five-year-old’s dream
    revealing not the
    familiar sunless
    dark, but an absence
    of light so complete
    the world had faded
    to a memory
    only a child could
    understand as night

    1. I like the way the description of this one thing is sort of twisted and compacted, obscuring itself and enhancing the effect.

    2. Yeah, I do too. I love that capturing of childhood fear and strangeness.

  3. night dreams

    so a five year old
    should go to bed at
    seven - fall fast asleep

    but an active mind
    a night owl body
    and I’m wide awake

    I don’t mind

    time for my night dreams
    same as my day dreams
    stories in my head

    in the night nobody
    bothers me, I can
    live my stories alone

    fly at night

    1. Oh that's great. It's what happens to a curious and bright insomniac.

  4. Trust

    Night-blind, so I placed
    My hand upon the
    Shoulder of a friend
    Who walked in front and
    Led me up and down
    Those non-existent
    Trails, and kept me from
    Falling off the earth

    1. That's intense, and you captured it all with very few words. Well done!

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  5. Light Show

    Everyone's asleep
    it's dark and silent
    save, the creaking house
    while my sister snores
    in the bottom bunk
    I'm getting ready
    with my palms I press
    slow steady pressure
    against my closed eyes
    not enough to hurt
    no, not quite that much
    enough to see stars
    a private light show
    inside my minds eye
    with colors of blue
    green, red and yellow
    a kaleidoscope
    my rods and cones cry,
    this is not natural!
    So I set them free
    with my eyes open
    the grand finale
    a starburst of white
    then the blackness comes
    and I go to sleep

    1. That's a cool poem. I love this childhood stuff! It really gets to the heart of who we are.

  6. It was a cool night
    my stepfather came
    to pick me up for
    the week end leaving
    the hospital where
    I stayed for my health
    Mentally locked up
    admitted at age
    twenty four or five

    They were kind to me
    As we drove downtown
    And I could not help
    from feeling excited
    seeing all the lights
    The reds and yellows
    The greens and the blues
    flickering, shining
    in the pitch darkness
    I said, "look at them"
    "The lights are so bright"

    I was not let out
    of the hospital
    very frequently
    with the policy
    and circumstances
    surrounding the time
    I spent there at night
    never seeing the
    night life or any
    lights for that matter

    It was as though my
    experience was
    exciting but then
    sad I only had
    a pass for overnight

    1. Wow, that's a beautiful and tragic and joyful poem all at once. Send this one out immediately.

  7. From the car's backseat
    I could feel the night close,
    I could see headlights
    And tail lights
    Darting around us
    Drawing yellow lines
    On the freeway.

    I wanted to know
    Where they were going
    Where they had been,
    Answer my questions!
    All of you people!
    My hands desired
    To pry open the freeway
    Like a hand opened wide
    And trace each lifeline
    Etched in pale yellow
    On the palm of the world.

    1. I love the Post Modern move at the end.

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  11. This is what happens when the power goes out in Sacramento after I have just read a Sean Reynolds night poem. Lying with that bouncing around in my head for a while I realized I had a chromebook and a cell phone to tether it -- both fully charged.


    They found it in another of a series of endless, moonless, starless nights,
    In the utterness at the bottom of a cold volcano,
    Word spreading in coarse syllables through the huddled cavern clumps.
    Standing hunched together and moving by sound,
    Following the hollow ticking of their teeth
    And the familiar rot of flaking skin,
    Arrays of nerves tilted up, tasting the air,
    They entered the asymmetric tunnel,
    Walls of hardened magma sculpted by ages of geology
    Into glassy folds the color of amnesia,

    Descent brought them to the foot of a carbon fiber stairwell--
    Articulated and mechanized
    Like the segmented spiral of a black silica shell,
    With no light to reflect in the mirrored material,
    No way for them to see their own faces in the glossy surface.

    Eyes white, Toothless,
    They followed ancient corridors down by intuition and racial memory
    Beneath the paralytic crust of crippled Earth
    Through chambers beneath the labyrinths of empty aquifers
    And between collapsed reservoirs,
    Crushed closed by the weight of deserts,
    Feeling their way to a lake long dead.

    Into a bed of gritty silt they grasped,
    Vestigial sockets carelessly directed
    With no sense of orientation.

    Inner ears numb to vertigo were not consulted
    By calcified nerve clusters, devolving brainstems.
    The air they breathed was breathed again.

    Many twitching digits contracted compulsively in contact with each other,
    Compelled by latent curiosity to unwrap the heavy layers:
    Disintegrating prehistoric sable,
    Pristine technological fabrics and pliant phyto-weave,
    All pulled back to expose a core of broken husks,
    Proterozoic chitin streaked a rich and oily chocolate brown,
    Once plunged forever in the deep
    Where was no memory of light, no echo of color, no concept of sight.

    Anachronistic instruments peeling the fragile layers…
    Removed: one spherical obsidian container
    With gyroscopic qualities. It shifted to the touch
    Of feeble neural extremities,

    Turning, manipulating, with lizard cunning, disused cranial matter,
    Until, the code decrypted, the globe came loose,
    Metal segments separating with a musical ping
    To reveal a kernel, a polished bead of jet.

    They beheld it there,
    Whispered possibilities--
    Communicating forgotten hopes of re-igniting stars
    And stoking once again tectonic engines.

    But it dropped
    And bounced
    And then was lost
    As they tore themselves asunder in the bowels of the slowing world.

    1. That's really powerful. I love your use of language and poetic devices through this.

  12. My Parents, My Enemies

    Mommy and Daddy
    Became my foes true
    I felt so alone
    No full brother or
    A full blood sister
    Long isolation
    Death sentence in life
    5 years of age and
    Witnessing too much
    Dark, empty highway
    Everything black.
    "Don't you dare move OR
    Look out the window."
    An exact command
    From Mommy, Dad quiet.
    Time passes, seatbelt
    Still on. I learn fear.
    Versus Fear Versus
    Saw something ugly
    That I shouldnt see.
    Their unashamed sex
    Staring back at me.

    I learned to love men
    Much, much more than them
    I wouldnt go back
    And change it because
    My sick benefit
    Is too addicting
    To give up, I wont
    Ever forfeit it.

  13. Night

    There are no stars in
    New York City the
    Sky is black because
    The buildings are lit
    Windows of whiteness
    Shimmering towers
    Everywhere so try
    To imagine stars
    Seen for the first time
    Coming out of a
    Movie with parents
    On fire island — I
    Looked up at the sky
    Filled with tiny brights
    Scattered sparkles I
    Said look but they
    Didn’t see so I walked
    Along but I knew
    Myself different I
    Felt things they didn’t
    I kept on looking
    Up though all the same.