Where There's Smoke Democracy's Burning

whatever the comfort of meaningless means

content to keep tracing my fingers in dreams

i finally woke up to sodium light

to find that the court had gone mad overnight

undoing the triumphs of seventy years

when i always thought that can’t happen here

a lifetime in office rich bribes on the bench

so toxic that nothing can cover the stench

Supreme Court afire an intolerant joke

a whole generation must learn to breathe smoke

Despair Rides Shotgun

the whelming voice of self

bearable only as a tonic against oblivion

returned from service

sat in a car with despair

stared at a house never called home 

wept for nothing 

wept for everything

hopeless creatures swarming over dirt

unconscious drives called progress

given no time to reflect or relent

chained dragged along behind

a few to whom we sacrificed

all our power and will

When Last I Felt Contentment

that midwinter Sunday 

with my parents out

just as the late afternoon dark 

crept its shadow across the snow

stark black trees my only audience

i drew a hot bath and stripped bare

threw open the door and ran 

once around the house whooping unashamed 

naked muscles tensing every sinew shaking 

and leapt into a white drift rolling my body 

in a million sharp edges of ice

laughing madly inside i ran and slid 

down into the steaming tub of water

that winter evening darkening blue

reached through the window into my skin

filling me with warm quiet peace

Cézanne

while toiling today

in work i despise

i thought of Cézanne 

a pang of despair

for abandonment

for all rejection

things that enrich life

miserable hopeless

true pursuits for naught

grave undertakings

and the sleep of death

a refreshing breath

Needing/Deserving Alone

must be alone

suffer alone

die alone

must have time for solitude

guilty time in solitude

distracted

everyone’s needs more precious

these frantic needs selfish

no in-between

is this human or something less

often thinking deserving

being alone

Last Crossing

heavy behind me

the heat and smoke sting my eyes

that bridge will fall soon

History Of A Meadow

when those you love wage a war over space 

in your consciousness then leave the land scarred

the sky in sepia toned waves of smoke

the battlefield full of decaying dead

carrion crows and bones that for years prick

a high grass field of flowers rising from

earth fertilized by the bloody flesh of

words deployed explode become this blue sky

those who visit sense longing from the graves

unmarked restless vestiges once adored

The River

within this river

the current pushes seaward

none stay still for long

Happy Birthday

Every year it comes closer,

but week to week it seems

there’s no end in sight.

Here comes another cake,

the canned song,

the candlelight bright enough

to conceal your disappointment

for another night.

I grew up on a hill

in the old forest above 

an abandoned yellow field.

There I’ll find an empty burrow.

When I crawl in – a last favor –  

cover it with flat, shell-fossiled rocks,

moss and damp leaves.

Cool silence is a gift,

and I know the world will carry

on and on just as well

as it did before I came out

screaming.

Chances

the bright clear light of

opportunity

is closely followed by

the red glow of taillights 

shrinking in the fog

Summer Solstice

Apollo’s chariot passes high

across the vast vaulted blue

lighting every poet’s passion

that focused flame of mind

while Dionysus lounges naked

in his shadowed vineyards

awaiting the sensuousness

of the brief experiential night

The Slump - Taking The Night Off

Howdy folks. Sorry, but my heart and mind are decidedly not in it for poetry tonight. I've been trying all day to put words and phrases together to no avail, so I am taking the night off in the hope that a short break will allow my brain to unclench.

I'm in a bit of a slump where drawing and painting are concerned as well. I am finishing up a commission, and for whatever reason, it's pushing me to my limits of confidence. I've reached a point where I can no longer tell if what I'm doing is any good, or has any value, and it's a crappy way to feel. But I'm going to finish this painting and then give myself the opportunity to experiment with some other styles.

I might be due for a similar mix-up where poetry is concerned as well. 

See y'all tomorrow.

Be good to each other.

~MS

Self-Doubt

to measure self-doubt 

first throw yourself up

to your fundamental guts

and sift through the slurry

find lurking in the background 

critical voices and internalized boundaries

a trip through rented fears

unhappy photographs

looking process figuring worrying

to that final redemptive moment

where the work stops in understanding

bright able lucky focus knowing

the journey to tomorrow 

requires winging trust

From Longing To Longing

when the heart desires

what cannot be fulfilled

it both dies and is left to grieve

the ensuing purgatory

is only more silent longing

for living is just new desire

from the ashes of the old

Echo Mirror Echo

beauty captures time

that’s when art sets its trap of

infinite regress

Whiskey Perseus

i once hunted

and i haven’t seen a monster like you

in long time

claws always up

in those crashing waves of hair

eyes wide searching aware

this barroom is no cage

we are prey growing too lazy in your lair

when you look my way

i know not to meet your gaze

my unquiet heart already once petrified 

i drink and pretend among the statues

A Night Out

night's coolness washes 

a cold white wine 

down the torrid throat of day

her knock comes soft as a smile

the excited sparkle in her eyes

moonlight on a river

rushing rushing 

to the riotous free roiling

of the city’s teeming sea

Poetry

yes it’s about the words that’s right

there’s a rhythm there’s a beat yes right

heavy with a concept 

or nuanced lean and slight

language longing to be music

Nova

let yourself be a fearless star exploding

in the dark of a long and righteous night

head thrown back arms wide stance splayed

jaw dropped in awe eyes open shining bright

blasting insides out and warming space

fueling sails and life while worlds around you wind

inspiring with brilliant fusion binding

not suffering stares of jealous fools you blind

Branches

i don’t have patience for bare tree branches

when i paint them i load them with leaves

after the fall i count the days to spring

so much time idling waiting for green

thinking about fractals ferns fungal roots

succulents rivers veins neurons in my head

and i admire anyone who will take the time

before the thaw to draw each limb and twig

my jealousy climbs and splits and splits again 

and blooms like a red rose vine

One Wish For Humankind

i wish for one day

humankind could experience 

the pure trust and joy i’ve seen

in my boys at four-years old

on a spring Saturday on an open lawn

arms wide running laughing

face turned up to the sun

as if they knew they could fly

Wishing For Freedom Under Heel

wasn’t anything in particular

took the cyclone from your sails

the welter wheel and the tin can rains

the nights we fought the rats off 

desire for the unyielding storm

they regard this as a second coming 

but hard stones betrothed to needles

find forever shadowed on the forest floor 

cut in cross sections locked in ankle bracelets 

deep in empty pockets with the poor 

truth in opposition even in crosshairs still

fuses and refuses to lick the boot

Black Scratches

these thin black scratches

ones in a white field of zeroes

red poppies in high green grass

dandelions and violets in the lawn

low orange sun in a deep blue sky

Breathing Smoke

morning light orange

sun like a sodium lamp

only in hell would 

nature mimic man

Drinking A Memory

writing by this lamp in humid silence

ice melting slowly a glass of whiskey

condensation on the outside seeping

into the paper coaster she bought last

summer at one of the wineries we

went to while on vacation where i spit

into the bucket as she swallowed sweet

dandelion wine and later drunk came

to my door with those coasters in one hand

whiskey in the other her dress clinging 

to the sweat on her chest asking if 

i had an interest two glasses and ice

A History of Opposition

human manifested orders of opposites

defining everything against everything 

legacies of inherent antagonism

a lifetime to learn another to leave behind 

what pain caused without intention

a child worries acting without knowing

years later to hear the result in shame

but no clear chain of chaos growing link by link

connecting ends and means

in a composite strand

Taking The Weekend

No post tonight or for the next two unless inspiration strikes.

This past week was a short one for me in my day job as a technical writer because of the Monday holiday, but even so, it really drained my batteries. My brain needs a little break.

I will likely do some drawing and painting this weekend, and might post some of that here. But poetry takes a special kind of mental effort.

Back Monday night if not before.

Be good to each other.

~MS

Zeitgeist

some strain to hear heroes break

pronounce and laud the rule of law

with silence growing in the seas 

this unbearably vociferous time 

the opaque is warped translucent 

black smoke curls around the dawn 

violence volunteers 

its fracturing fists as answers 

when questions pile high