Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Tabula Rasa

In the Wake of the Underground Sun, A. Andrew Gonzales

Dare to tear that edge of air
where swallows fly and clouds with voices

Sing songs that lift oblivion high
and drop remembrance behind grieving eyes.

The key is to sit for a while
and smile without duty or obligation

At an auburning evening sky
and perhaps to contemplate one’s fate,

And perhaps to keep one’s spirit open
to the invisible stars that pierce the half-light,

And perhaps to touch a truth that
spreads like paved gravel upon the horizon,

And while the clouds change color…

Perhaps to bathe in blood and weep
or to deliver one’s eyes to the labyrinths of sleep,

And perhaps to have sinister dreams
and to scream one’s fears out loud,

To both confess and absolve one’s Self
and to shed one’s sorrows like a shroud. 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Truth...or Fiction

The Lovers by Marty Wolff

Night slips into my room
and I call it fiction
that no one might think it true.


On a long summer evening,
a different trail will come to me…
the scent of a man with no body.

I will cling to the ghost of his perfume.

I will cling…

But, no.
Don’t tell me this isn’t truth…

How you crackle like fire
in the deadest stillness of darkness.

How you glide like nightfall over my skin. 
How I grasp the spectre of your descent.

How you erode my flesh
like a million years of rain on stone.

*** Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!!!