I HAVE DIVORCED
you wish to
reference the
contemporary.
squinting into
the distance.
could we possibly
call for an
early release?
your presence
is a disturbance, i’m sure
you planned it that way.
a hinderance which
is a continuing convenience
is there an
out clause?
or a blank canvas?
NEXT GENERATION
was that photo
that was posted,
was it meant for me? an unconventional pose?
was that your motor vehicle
slightly ahead of mine? a crisscross of happenstance
which dictates direction. and i will be the recluse, a distance
of reluctance- images of new work presently
reveal the content of our periphery
there is no next generation,
standing amid hot tar and concrete-
supplicating their will, confiscating the perilous
borders of creation.
i can remember a time,
without introspection,
waiting until children
were asleep to access the information
that would allow a peek into the new world.
a succession of unforseen events
coincides within this vortex, a correlation to
our own collective. on both sides, now.
they are creating a coalition
a singing chorus of scintillation
“this is exactly how it was!” I would shout
over the voluminous sound.
seas
will
rise
and the cacophony of totality can
reclaim the night, if only for that one, brief, moment.
it was simply a repetition of the cycle. the firehouse that is now
a residence. the vacant lot that once housed
ideas without recalcitrant demands.
this user is private.
and the succession of continuity is delineated
along tribal lines, which never existed as a barrier
in the good old days.
no one knows what became of the money raised
from the benefit
no one thought
about the import of the imprint.
we have come to the endgame,
a recess beyond impact.
i threw the key to the armory
over the riverbank.
RICOCHET SILHOUETTE
the conscientious coptic
speaks in symbols hidden
within decades of deception,
and the conscription of common sense
reflects a ribbon threading
itself into the context of our continuity.
the belief in a specific orthodoxy
resonates within the fuel of fissures, patience
as permanence, a ricochet silhouette.
our enterprise has morphed into a myopic
cohesion, the elegance of opportunity
a period of waiting for the sea
charged the casual observation, which concludes a forged chapter
within the point of completion, a moment which
required a simple, returned phone call.
the chaplain who confirmed for one and all
may not claim a conclusion on his own terms.
and yet this conveyance of civility would mark the compulsion
of every conflict that began to separate us
from the possible.
we have experienced the peripheral inception
the responsibility of a reciprocal evolution
encompassing an exact calculation.
each moment which parses a perpetual conversion,
becomes a perplexing situation –
a conscious decision- to contemplate
the correction of an inherent influence.
there are exactly 17 paces between the two points
of recollection and it’s final cancellation,
a follicle of temporal permanence reveals the reaches of grace,
a gradual acceptance of consequence.
each pillar that once was meant
to carry the weight of a voluntary subscription,
surreptitiously crafting an extreme position
a most trepidatious transition
a precious antiquity provides the primary motivation
it’s defiance the overriding trait which reveals
a constant barrage, the tire squelch, the sequence
of events beyond our control, individual lyricism
being sacrificed for the whole.
a mirrored dichotomy perplexes the state
of our affairs. are the accomplishments their own courant?
it’s insouciant contraband, it’s gregarious panache
only interrupt the perilous balance
the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down,
our commencement of acceptance
belies the cardinal conventions
of all our belated berths,
within cascades casually reminding the
congregation of it’s exemplary restraint
if every intention was a precise
calibration
we’d find our own collection
concise upon reflection
there is an ice sheet
coating the backyard gardens
empirically
each cascade partakes
of it’s particular veil
a constant puzzle
a collapse of the
system, resignation of
complete absolutes
convenience escapes
it’s occupied true binds. the
allowance of hope
the casual vice
of acquiescence compels
conscious compliance
SECRET WORLD
the gravity of the needle drop
always fascinated me
never more so when my father
bought my mother
a pair of 45 RPM singles
as a parting gift upon their divorce
“too much too little too late” by deniece williams
& johnny mathis, and “count on me” by jefferson starship.
I remember thinking, “did he miss the mixed message?”
i would play these records over and over
looking for hidden clues
as to why I was even looking to begin with. I kept searching
for my father’s voice in the words, but the maudlin lyrics made
me loathe him beyond the obvious.
my mother didn’t like records, or music as entertainment.
one day, when the whole family
was to spend some quality time spring cleaning,
i put on an 8 track of the Beatles, thinking I would see my mother
pep up to the catchy beat of her one favorite band. when I went in to
the kitchen to catch a glimpse of her at the height of domestic bliss,
she just asked to me to turn it down.
I had been unwittingly let in to a secret world
where communication is a currency all its own
GRAND CROSS
each careful crevice
is a calculated burden
the exaltation of the sudden
the acclaim of the other
each luminous caress
is a courtesy
an accomplishment all it’s own
ideas desire to coalesce around
our better precedence
like a new moon in aries
the previous distance from decadence
the date on the calendar has passed,
is always passing
a reflective juncture which demands
one choice between two worlds
the ignition of intuition
gains measure in the ensuing reveal
EXIT STRATEGY
the door closes quickly
as a loud commotion
commences
there are still roads to traverse
it’s an exit strategy
the appeal of inner calculation-
your garbled gable senses
an advantage without a reverse
consent, complicating the totality
of our image- an irreversible reclamation.
this implied construct of allowence’s
deception could not erase the curse.
the archive of our functional commonality
dissipates in a hissing enunciation,
a sacrificial dissolution of the harnesses
that tethered every verse
this vapor of vacant tonality
delineates the idea of qualification
a predetermined absence of consequence
with lips coiled tight in a concealed purse
