Sunday, May 12, 2013

Two Poems

She Comes Laughing, But Goes Smiling
Or, Pagliacci In Love

Far off in the distance
Nothing seems real
Boxed in a rear-view mirror
What matters, anymore?

Days and wine flow underfoot
And something’s learned,
ground is gained
but what and where, in carved stone?

The things we hold will warm our hands
But once let go, given to the wind,
Fireflies and candles, fireworks and stars
Die, blow out, turn to smoke, or dim.

We can stand on beaches
Watching waves go out
But if you’d built no boats
What ship is she on?

She’ll take to roads or skies,
Strain your eyes, crane your neck
She’ll dim and she’ll shrink
While you stand and watch. 

Take comfort, stick to your guns.
You know what it is you’re worth.
A quick joke, a laugh, but son:
 you punched up the fuck line.

The King Of Small Dark Corners

The king of small dark corners sits
Exactly where you’d imagine.
Surrounds himself with stacks of books, 
Never shelves

Crumpled papers, pillows and blankets, 
None folded, no forts.

This king of cobwebs, 
Dust and dim

Cross-legged, arms too
Sits lit by laptop screen. 

A mug of tea, no longer steaming,
Kept- a fine metaphor: lacking warmth.

The king of sad deserted places 
Stirs in your head, like a rattled cough

He stares impassive, a not-quite-glare 
His voice, tape hiss and white noise.

Yet some days you’re subject 
To the whims of this goblin-king.