from The Brief Literary Career of Miles Dowd
the divine joke
.
in The Beginning we enter this spinning
bawling babies crWHYing
screaming a fit. well,
logically speaking --
such as if wrong leads to right
& night turns to day
& hell burns to --
& all roads lead to...
logically speaking, after all the wear & tear
in The End, we should leave with ease,
understanding everything, in peace –
but… ha ha ha, no no know,
logic is useless -- young or old, asleep or awake,
croaking informs us no more than a baby's quake.
thought begins with a question
like birth borne with a cry,
and we try try try to resolve why oh why
but in The End there is only suggestion;
life is significantly smarter than my me I
from Rotations
the shield
I stare into the mouth of the empty road
filled with people, not you.
Rain drips like sweating ice
from mountainous jigsaw clouds.
You are not here, are here and missed;
your warmth and reach rotates around me,
a shield of hope
from Rotations
the goal
Bursting bud beautiful, firm fragrant fragile
genuine gentle generous smile.
You are where I want always to be.
The balm in a breeze, the calm of the seas,
the far-reaching, ever-close, forever-more isle.
When our eyes lock it's like docking into soul.
To be with you is privilege, for you are the goal.
from Rotations
carving scars
The pen carves scars on the Dear... page.
My free hand grips itself waiting to be laid,
palm in palm,
our fingers locked and loaded
firing bulletins to your brain:
I want you / this
But your hand is a thousand miles away
In your pocket rattling change
The first of June moon
is a tomb,
A hole in the universe
the shield
I stare into the mouth of the empty road
filled with people, not you.
Rain drips like sweating ice
from mountainous jigsaw clouds.
You are not here, are here and missed;
your warmth and reach rotates around me,
a shield of hope
from Rotations
the goal
Bursting bud beautiful, firm fragrant fragile
genuine gentle generous smile.
You are where I want always to be.
The balm in a breeze, the calm of the seas,
the far-reaching, ever-close, forever-more isle.
When our eyes lock it's like docking into soul.
To be with you is privilege, for you are the goal.
from Rotations
carving scars
The pen carves scars on the Dear... page.
My free hand grips itself waiting to be laid,
palm in palm,
our fingers locked and loaded
firing bulletins to your brain:
I want you / this
But your hand is a thousand miles away
In your pocket rattling change
The first of June moon
is a tomb,
A hole in the universe
from The Brief Literary Career of Miles Dowd
The Will
every heart will stop one day
suddenly or slowly, absolute, wholly.
we'll be dropping dead, the torch fizzled, phased.
each head led to the final fade
as all me scatters anonymously...
while the Spirit can choose from many estates,
the Body is left with but one debate:
to be incinerated like garbage or stuffed in a crate.
oh, this visit brief, a crimson leaf, time unglued.
yes, this heart will cease to beat the day,
feeling keeling over, in lickadysplit decay.
the lie of life, all things will wing away
Yet, love remains
forever, pass it on, clever
love remains, ever true
from Idiot Savant
C↑UPID
Young man, bending the bow, stretching logic,
starlight is not guiding light.
Plinging in the dark, people get hurt.
Watch out! Damn it!
Your missiles whistle merrily
but miss the mark and watch us bleed
punctured sleep and a lover cavity.
Holes in the head, Stabs in the back,
Sores and infections from miscalculating direction.
Wonder weapons have anointed aim,
errant arrows mispointed maim.
Shakespeared.
Young man, observe the grieving masses,
Sweet-tipped pleasure-plunge heart-darts
start cardiac attack on impact, not pains in asses.
Perhaps you need glasses and archery classes?
from Rotations
Some Things Cannot Be
Some things cannot be.
the cat wants to fly, the mat wants to run,
the flame wants to cool, ice cream wants sun,
the tree wants to move, the wind wants to rest,
the sky wants to open, and time wants to nest.
Some things cannot be.
the storm wants to calm, the river wants to cling,
the door wants to dance, orchids want to sing,
the eyes want to touch, the ears want to see,
the mind wants to beat, the heart wants to breathe.
Some things cannot be, Like you and me
we meet and mate and await our fate.
the universe may separate,
but you who live inside of me believe in things that cannot be