Category Archives: Spring

SHUT UP KEN

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Erasure, Experiment, Michigan Writer, Poetry, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective

Sonnet XLIII

Night does not shatter the day
with shadows in this place when you are near,
the moon dresses you in its roots
and I am born in your hands
where life’s no longer restless, but a soft waltz
at every instant in soft beds,
I am tangled in the topaz
river of your glance. Let’s color the world

until the world blooms with our dreams.
Let our kisses bring the light of summer
falling to cover us with a new love

that rises once spring passes with the taste
of happy fruit and I am here, empty
and hungry, singing each syllable of your kiss

 

(continued experiment with Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets)

Leave a comment

Filed under Experiment, Form, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Spring, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Put something to my lips

lines from collaboration with Nick and Jonah from Temporal Arts Collective.

I

“and you said a promise to sing me home”

I was trying hard to cling to
some other thought: I want
to write myself
away and back to you

in the present
—all the words
come out all wrong
when I’m trying not to shatter.

Come smoke me with yer body
in the cool mist
and bind our little parts

of speech with something that’s lovely.
Whatever it’s going to be
is what I need to know.


II

We have forgotten that sort of feeling
rips away
more easily and with less danger others,

that perfume transmits information that’s not historical
the instant we touch. Please, under no circumstances, speak of love.


III

Put something to my lips.
I feel you taste as fancy candy does,
so sweet, so wow.

Can I catch the perfume
of yer laughter in a flower?

 

IV

There’s nothing to write about.
This evening passed as usual
but still the soul asks for causation
:

I’ve been trying to find
a new mouth in the cruel night of clouds
dim from end to end as the heart or a leaf.

Oh how I want acts of terrifying gorgeousness.
Truth is, I am lonely
for a little light to come down
and touch me but I look up and it’s gray
and I have no desire left for the world.

Sometimes I feel fine, fine, but
my hands very much want
people who care passionately
for what sex is all about very little love
and but I have remained closed for so many years.

Please, under no circumstances, speak of love
when I’m trying not to shatter.

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Form, Friends, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Spring, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here XIII

Here

A country
doesn’t exist,

only a name
that signifies nothing

we are searching
the body’s chaos that radiates

You, my homeland is
in your language I came hard

in the present
we are so smooth

now I am pointing north Oh
I am a half-open window

Here

I feel
spring air spreading

in your
legs, throughout night

Light hands welcome
the earth’s secret

like a cigarette
unraveling early May light slightly

askew over and over
again. We master the music

of our bodies. As night begins
I multiply more than electricity

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here XII

Here

Yer nature’s magical
act, electrified

you rain meaning
a note

always I’m lost
inside my mind.

Rain is good
like wine. Yer voice

pierces breezes
wet with dew

Here

I am handsome
from a distance I love

the lure of one
moment to this now

for forever
is too short

Rock me, baby.
Rock me all night long

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here XI

Here

desire’s invented what cannot
be fulfilled. It is impossible to

imagine I am when I desire
music falling

Here

today it seems
more natural

before war
to raise

the body
and other desires

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here X

Here

color begins to be romantic
and still you are

fall and
thunder, taste of

Honey, I am
delirious

like a peach
and very charming

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here IX

Here

the beginning. You are
my tomorrow dream for

a song—
longing is

longing every atom
on the horizon

your body,
a warm light

Here

The past stands
happy. You were

born with
the invention of air,

the silky rain
on glass

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here VIII

Here

Where is my mind
hiding. The other meaning

of yer name,
longing, the beginning

you are
my tomorrow, music.

For the night I have
no yesterday

and do not dream
for a song

other than
your song

Here

this, the universe’s
pulse is filled with you

Here

longing is
from distant provinces,

the specialty of
memory in my speech

having hit the street. The rain
continues to crawl

because of memory’s inability
to retrieve you, tomorrow

Here

a previous emotion
never tires of lying

to add what did not exist
to what did

Here

Honestly, the tree becomes a forest
unaware of the garden

or the past
in the mirror

Here

longing every movement of
time being

happy, as if you were
beginning light distilled

like a drop of water,
to enter a form for there

is no past and present
because you do not remember

one atom
on the horizon

but you see you were born
in white sleep, in this

circular
non-place

Here

you emerged from a sky
like this rising to
feeling

sheer bliss
scattered on

your body, the invention
of air

just created
resembled reality

without a memory. You long a body
free of longing

the silky rain
on glass stirs desire

and a warm room
for light to rise

from the body’s night cured
of the present groaning that glitters,

tomorrow,
a star

Here

the sound of
the wind takes you

around its country
enveloped in its dark

plants until your pores soak up the smell
of longing someone

who never witnessed
a massacre
hangs from a cypress tree

Here

I wish I
were there

laughing with you.
Forgive me,

I could not
find my language

Here

Where am I?
Lie to me, say: I am

alive, like you. Was death
that beautiful? I am

a body tied to wires
and I cry

out to know I am
alive for a time

even when it
takes the form of a nightmare

Here

that beautiful scar
inside this heart

is the country’s
fingerprint on this body

Here

I will come
with you after

its blemishes
have been removed

Here

Make tonight
a shared past,

a memory, afflicted with
longing to forget

the war
hasn’t ended

still
Come with me, tonight

born from every beautiful
tomorrow before all turns to dust

Here

Leave a comment

Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Here VII

Here[1]

why use
our form

give
me

only

this you

there


[1] Refrigerator magnet poem. May 10, 2012. Nick’s kitchen. Ypsi, MI.

Leave a comment

Filed under Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Spring, The Temporal Arts Collective