Friday, October 2, 2015

October 2

Here's the link to Cole's Painting!


  1. A Rocky Glen (In the Shawangunks), Thomas Cole

    it’s the devils
    kick and rumble.
    infernal rock a jutting
    solidified under
    God’s glory— the church’s

    answer to unseen movement
    products of pressure.

    a carbon-burn
    pillars to eternity.

    the Fallen
    beg at the gates of heaven.

    forgotten as giant rocks,
    a story no longer carried.

  2. AAA

    I say,

    You there...

    Up here!
    Beg pardon...

    I seem to be stuck,

    No, wait!

    Please... wait,
    Could you call someone?

    At least-


    1. Ha! Okay, that's a great take and a different one too!!

  3. Nothingness

    In the massive
    the earth
    Was as it always
    has been
    and bigger than life
    The one pedestrian
    on top of the world
    Is not as significant
    As he once thought

  4. No one can be as proud better than a rock—not even man. He stands surrounded by them—the subject of their cold gray mush pot. They look down and sneer as he holds his arms outstretched. He has forgotten how cold a rock can be. Hugging a rock gives no comfort at all. Perhaps he’s not aiming to hug them, but copying the tree—aiming his fingers at the sun for some kind of life. Several trees before this man have tried to do so, but the rocks have overshadowed the glow of the sun above, starving their leaves of the light except for a brief moment at sunset. Before the rocks can grow higher to shadow the man, he moves, but not further toward the sun as the struggling saplings. The man moves closer to the rocks, their shade and their loneliness.

  5. On A Rocky Glen (In the Shawangunks)

    The man flings his hat in jubilation
    The rocky ladder is conquered now
    His gasping breath finally calms
    To stillness hanging in the trees
    Sunlight showers unabashed
    As weary muscles screech complaint
    Long gone are his prideful climbing steps
    As smallness echoes back to distant crows.

  6. The Uplift

    Granite wisdom
    teeth erupt
    stuck through our pulped gums these vortical
    grey-black planes one half of which
    top the brim where the horse of blood
    cuts the horse
    of milk
    as they run
    the circuit of your wide-lipped outstretched
    hat tilted, welcome! Always two
    see each other over distance
    with your lacquer-drunk pants,
    the color of mercury and waving
    at some other I
    stand moments in this gallery before you
    each an assemblage of toil
    but you, out there in some deeper perspective I
    could touch
    if not for security
    the paint and not the person
    of you, with no ropes your calm ascent
    and me
    knowing some unclimbable
    hunger, rushed
    this moment of erosion, I flint
    this stone, at the angle of vanishing
    stability made sheer
    we have been here here together brutally
    defaced for some great time--ask the trees
    their toes wrapped into
    the tightly bound fissures of your
    vertiginous unsmiling
    why some surfaces are found by the sun
    while the vine climbs in its painful
    shade, they know neither

  7. Spread your arms and wave
    tiny speck of a human
    wee soul lost in the landscape
    with a lone tree standing witness
    grounded in inhospitable rock
    birds circle in flight overhead
    while the ridiculousness of aliveness
    Surges through the limbs of the
    most powerfully sentient being
    who ever posed to hug the world

  8. birds float among the
    crags within the purple sky
    intruder in the rocks