Sunday, June 19, 2016

Dreamless



Dreamless




We don't discuss which one is blacker
the starstrewn night or sister death
balanced here on living's edge.
Death has no moving moon
no firefly's strobe,
still we say she
comes all this
way with
sleep.



~June 2016









posted for   real toads














Images: Untitled by Zdzisław Beksiński, fair use
Deadlight, © joyannjones







Sunday, June 12, 2016

Weeklings


Weeklings





Monday's child consumes her face,
Tuesday's child is lost in space.
Wednesday's child's not what he seems,
Thursday's child's a drug that dreams.
Friday's child works hard for her money
so Saturday's child can steal it on Sunday.
And the child that's born on Black Sabbath day
buys the blind bride a ring, then walks away.

Banker, oilman, Blackwater sniper
dance before the unpaid piper.


~June 2016






posted for   real toads














Optional Musical Accompaniment













Image by Edward Gorey, via the internet
No copyright infringement intended


Saturday, June 4, 2016

The Bastard






"Hey babe, what's in your eyes?
I saw them flashing like airplane lights.
...What's that laughing in your smile?
...If that's your love, just leave me blind..."
~Jagger-Richards, You Got The Silver



The Bastard





It wasn't enough
performing for the
shell-game professors
and small-time grocers
you called family.
O no.

It wasn't enough
to scrub your drawers,
peel your cow's-tongue,
wait graveyard tables
to feed the child.
O no,

you had to call me
'an authoress.'

A bastard could never
belong in your world
unless it was you.



 ~June 2016





posted for real toads


















Image: Tables for Ladies, 1930, by Edward Hopper  Fair use via wikiart.org

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Broken


 
Broken





They were married by the moon
on the Pyramid of the Sun,
best man from the Society of Jaguars,
for bridesmaid a flower boy
who loved her yellow hair,
who thought he spoke English,
words lava reefs cooling
in the Pacific of his Español.

They walked, a sun-specked
collection of curiosities, laughing 
along the Avenue of the Dead,
asked the moon, the sun, the stars,
the snarl of the watching Jaguars
for a child
but none came. Broke,
they went back to the States.

He threw the I Ching; the marriage
was annulled. In the neon-long after,
she lost the feel of his deer's eye
startling wild in the dark, the dazzled
pink walls, azure doors, stone streets 
and jade palms of Mexico
where her heart was emptied
on the altar of the Sun.





~May 2016







posted for   real toads

















 You can read about the setting of this story, Teotihuacan, Mexico,   here.






Image; by Saiko: Terracotta figures from Teotihuacan in the Louvre, via wikimedia commons
Manipulated.


Thursday, May 26, 2016

Hunter's Wish




Hunter's Wish






I see you in dreams,
arms akimbo clutched one-handed,
a beige on blond bending
two-dimensional distortion,
Modigliani-stretched 

or a cave painting:
Hunter, missing one forearm.
Thin as the spear
you no longer throw,
reluctant to grasp

anything at all, 
or pick up the wish
so long on your table,
staring you down,
sealed or smeared,

perhaps just trash or
scratched in a code
mathematically impermeable.
Yet I with no math,
no science, no separated brain

can read,
flat and open as a daisy,
the plain letters curved as
salmon's backs leaping,
your wish for hunt's end:

only be good, it says,
(in antelope tracks, in burnt bones
in crumbled earth,) 
be good


to yourself.
Don't forget how to use
the hand you have left.




~May 2016



posted for     real toads











Image: by SiefkinDR :Photo of outline of a human hand, dated 27,000 Before Present Era, dsplayed at the Musée d'Archéologie Nationale (Museum of National Archeology). in the Chateau of Saint-Germain-en-Laye via wikimedia commons