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#196922 - 12/28/07 08:19 AM Cinderblock Lighthouse (TRIGGER)
Liri Offline

Registered: 12/28/07
Posts: 127
Loc: Seattle, WA


Who will sound again
The bell first rung
When recess was just
A microsaga-- a swingset
To be leapt from,
Into adulthood's scolding

As it slept in a bunkbed,
Dripping urine,
Floating dismembered,

Ours got fucked.

The mathematics prize vaulted away.

Nothing of you but a sticky snapshot

Creased across the
grain. Folded & quartered

Into my zipped pocket.
Now in the stewing black

Of a land laden with cobblestones &

Now I'm trancing

Over the tidal flats. Now I stab my childhood

In the back. Passion heaves. In the muck dead

Things agree.


He came in from the sun--
Ryan Smilac, eleven and thunderstruck.
I was there all along, hiding
Like the photo folded in his pocket.

He came in from the gale to sit
In the sand, on the floor
Of my toolshed, crosslegged.
To let the whipping pines outside
Screen his grief from fierce Apollo.

I found him like a coin muted
In an inner pocket. His song
Glistening in secret. We shall become
An alchemy. As we sit, crosslegged,

With pillars of flame in all
Four upturned palms. Lifelines
Pulsing through the cool acoustics.
It is in this hush we found our

#196933 - 12/28/07 12:40 PM Re: Cinderblock Lighthouse (TRIGGER) [Re: Liri]
dancr6 Offline

Registered: 12/02/07
Posts: 383
Loc: georgia
In an ideal world we wouldn't have to hide things from ourselves and find shelter from the onslaught of our fellow human beings.
You have a grace to your verse that I love, the apparent smoothness of the universal movement overides the tragedy some of us were faced with. And still, on this plane, we have to deal with it.


I'm a freeman now, his authority's dead
no pain monger lies in my comfortable bed!

#197232 - 12/30/07 02:36 PM Re: Cinderblock Lighthouse (TRIGGER) [Re: dancr6]
roadrunner Offline
Administrator Emeritus

Registered: 05/02/05
Posts: 22045
Loc: Carlisle, PA

Your poem reminds me of a quality I see in all the guys who post their poems here: courage. It takes a special determination to look inside ourselves in this way, regardless of what we may find.

Much love,

Nobody living can ever stop me
As I go walking my freedom highway.
Nobody living can make me turn back:
This land was made for you and me.
(Woody Guthrie)


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