Projections

Single file, like in the native's way
to hide numbers and mourn in a slow peace.

The leftover and forward
once again make sign to a favorite son.

They pause and worship a clay idol,
as much contrite as devoted.

Forgive me friend their eyes say,
"I was not there".

Or, forget me friend,
"There was more than I could handle".

The idol responds to the
deep wishes of their heart,

projecting back upon the somber
all that they desire.

They will carry now a piece,
each a piece of the pain

and nurture a wound in proportion
to what their projection's demand.

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Flirty bird

I fought this poem the entire way and, as usual, the poem won:

The chirp of the flirty bird curls lightly on the flesh--
and they who hear 
absorb the vibrant end
of the birdy's sonic thread.
Apart from the howl
and hoot,
in a parcel of ample space,
the sweet bird embraces
a rhythmic tufted bop
and binds the living race.

Starting line wonders

So I stopped and sat still 
as I saw the prime commence,
And wondered on the possession
of so serious a fact.

     the act presupposes an end.

See, 
the mighty legs of 
the many runners 
fatigue upon the chase.
The object lesson for all concerned?

     they run awfully hard in place.

Tight spaces

The whole universe
in this tight space.

If not the whole,
at least we ourselves.

Complexity exposed
and manipulated

for benefit or
benefitting needs.

The need to express
the whole of lives.

The lives we lead
in this tight space.

Weight of the prolonged

Under the weight
of the prolonged
rests the peaceful
disintegration
of a name.

			What is your hope?

It is feeling,
oozing past reality
to where experience
suffers spasmodic fits.

It is the long 
and sullen
attaining 
critical mass.

(The belief that)
with a push from
the other side,
the anguish disperses
and comes relief.

Maybe this is 
where you find
it.
In the remembering.
In the soothing.

To mean,
to suffer --
sister soldiers
of internal discourse.
To verily believe
the unbelievable.

So shall the settled

And so shall the settled
remain affected.
Caught unaware in the
blister of the street.
Summer time,
winter time,
that holly holy,
slim lined fleet...
Oh, the settled shall
decompose
amid the bones of
those with nothing
but the
rancor.

Curb sitting

Trace BBs as they kiss the luminescent peak of waves;
parabolic explorations observed by a bright eyed boy
cognizant of the limits of their destructive power.
See them arch through the midday malaise--
Tuesdays wasted in repetition,
that's the state of this young boy's heart.
Here is now and is forever,
never mind the decades that slip past
and the many meetings with one mind.