Two Mimes Remove Each Other’s Grease-Paint

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Two Mimes Remove Each Other’s Grease-Paint
Nov 142013
Her sourceless smile arrives
In intimate glitters,

Her lips suavely parting
In intenser shine.

Above, eve's lone lamp, the moon
Removes a mood.

His hand upon her shoulder
Intends a sense 

Between them, attar of essences 
Sincerely sieved,

Intends a sense more intense, 
Interior and profound.

A Retiree Regards the Fair Fire Failing

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on A Retiree Regards the Fair Fire Failing
Nov 142013
Soul's a moment's melody
(As Mallarme reported).
Each breath is every sigh recorded,
One tear is all the sea.

Lucid glycerins distill, intend,
All God may mean by being:
Loving nearly to the pain of seeing,
Forgiving even the end.

Less than Time attempts is this "I"--
Burnt between the matchstick's start
And pumiced embers morosely blown--
Condensed intense in each spark of eye.

It is a malady a moment,
This soul--and then, neant.

Fishy Circumambulation

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Fishy Circumambulation
Nov 142013
A guttering wind going round
Beats the windowed walls
Of the Brooklyn Aquarium
Where swart, flared fish going round
Like flowery candy in a dish.

Crowds of slackmouthed onlookers watch
Eight slack-legged octopi watch
Crowds of onlookers going round 
In Brooklyn's dainty air.

In a world of choices,
Such variorum of voices,
To continually choose
To choose not to choose--

To neigh nay to no
And sneeze nyet to yes
While the crowd confines
Our going round and around,
Mutes the vocus of our natures.

So many colors
Going round and around,
Within others, and ourselves within,

While frenzied fish bash 
The circular glass
Unhelped by any wind.

Convergence Before and After

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Convergence Before and After
Nov 142013
Life may be magnanimous,
The sleek making way of water reeds
Before a smooth canoe.
It may be.

Or life perchance is tragic,
A limitless march, march, march
To the restriction of a pinnacle.
It may be.

These two modes of life
Are one, in sum.
The tragic will navigating North,
The lazy wanderer wading South.

What happens to the one,
Happens exactly to the other.
Death, or some other bother.
It may be.

When, in this light, we look
At ourselves, we disappear
Into the necessitous intimate
Staring there in the mirror.

It may be.

Quietus at Daybreak

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Quietus at Daybreak
Nov 142013
Snow loiters coyly in scraps,
And winter lies 

The edges of shadows at dawn,
Tinged blue,
Recall a greater darkness
Of which they are the moiety.

When summer arrives at last,
When green spring is in the grave,
When summer comes out
From under heavy covers,
Quilts over-laden with imagery,
When summer leaves, and snow
Feels bright in autumn air--

Will you remember the summer days,
Days we burned through together?


 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Curiouser
Nov 142013
Strolling in a random mood, random clouds
Disclose a sky unpatterned, whereon I brood
"How life behaves, how the world is made!"
Striding hills disclose apportioned woods
Brushed bare of bush--a dell within the wood
Discloses its roughened tongue of telling green;
Kneeling in the roughened grass, politely parted,
Discloses dandruffed jimson, butterweed and chives;
And one long flower's uttering bud, mussed and tussled,
Discloses saffron tassels, with brilliant pollens laid;
And pollen's golden wand, waved and handled,
Discloses slyly a tensile spine where florid saps
Flow slow along the intruding thumb, and stop.