surrender
the monsters are asleep
like retrograde demons
they hum and hah
insurmountable
for they linger in dark
in suede sensibilities
announcing in their buzz
the presence of fear
contiguous elegy to god
and to god's legions
my head is heavy
the eaves of an man
stunned by intent
and fallen accident
now alone with the sleep
they must not wake
waking
i swing from bridge to river
thinking about that child
who sat at a distance
looking at a note from god
the river resting beneath his feet
i watched him from a distance
the water cold and stunned
resumed its course, ignoring his
prayers, he would not look
instead he closed his eyes
hearing the blue and its softness
we walked back, feet hurt from
the stones which cobbled us
i walked a little behind, he
eager to go, moved on ahead
he left the note and the solace
turning
i was staring, the elements deterred me
and in the oblong court i heard children
their voices uncontrolled and episodic
were lost within the echoing space
it was a spot that i held, transfixed
as if mutiny were a look i barred my soul
and defended the slightest whim with
the focus of a final look, bruised look
i wonder what a look does that stems
the finest from their goals, i resound here
and there are no hallelujahs, just the stare
and the start of a sobbing, the children again
and then no, they seem to have gone
and i am no more than a turning, i start
the cast
in time the man was standing
he had the transfixed look
that many have when death
has seen them
he was undeclared and winsome
but his eyes spoke as a softening
to the hardened clay
threadbare and innocent
his future was a darkened span
his walk had the temper of a fugue
repeated steps repeating
music without the muse
his head was bowed and held
upon taut neck as if age
severe had locked its bend
he was alone and the sign
of the others far from his eye
forgot his stepping
she was below
and her hair, below
was all one could see
if trees could talk
once a snake fell
and human too
did slide from god
to earth
there are people who sit with people
and those who merely sit
some eye the wall, engulfed
others linger with eyes dissonant
my dad sits in a chair, his hands bent
he is marked and raging with time
his gentleness is beyond question
he has no passion that is not imminent
he is in a waiting room with others, waiting
and the evening is early, i see fear as he calls
for my mother, she is asleep, and dreaming
the staff do not meet ones eye and seem disconnected
i leave through a side door, my dad is talking about the future
Patterned
I am patterned by phases
Mophed into delicate imbalance
Knifes along water sinking easily
Into the estimates of the others
Within each isolated niche
A part of me is denied
And i am a voyager of death
Determined to live
I last as long as a song
And sing until breath
Has at last spun into nuance
Demarcating sense, swoon
My words are marked by self
And by the few who plague me
And monitor the curses
That stream beneath the entrance
Of a window into obstruction
Oblivion has never looked so inviting
