Posted on November 24, 2009 by darren
A million trees repeat themselves.
The dark, the heat and stagnant air
nod a hundred heads in seats to sleep.
Stops at all the Circle K’s. This one stays
still and sound, head down. Blinding glints
of grey-white sky flash from bog-patches
like shattered glass in an underpass.
He’s undisturbed for hours. Trucks pass,
gears clash. A radio drifts on and slowly
off again. That’s when they see the stain.
He wakes, dazed. A steward sighs. His face
rash-red, he ambles to the back. With him
a sour cloud of piss-rank khaki. Aisles gag
and wake as damp night sags over the maples.
Filed under: fixed hearts, verse | 1 Comment »
Posted on October 1, 2009 by darren
Consider these men on horseback
mounting a golden ridge in which
everything is perfectly composed,
the anatomy of their stallions
exactly correct and the oil-white clouds
just so. September sunlight
combs their excellent beards.
They’ve rolled the most exquisite cigarettes —
they smoke to die on their terms,
remind themselves of fathers.
It’s hard to say if men like this
ever existed — perhaps, like English kings
or the emperors of Rome, their grace
has been exaggerated in a flatterer’s eye —
but the romance of their habits is not lost on us,
leaning on the window ledge outside the optician’s,
scuffing butts beneath our feet. Any luck, time might choose
to perfect our shapes, inflate this modest backdrop,
maybe give up a good title like Thinkers at Midnight
or Wanderers in the Fog of Youth.
Filed under: verse | 3 Comments »
Posted on July 16, 2009 by darren
You leaned into the window watching the sun set,
mottled cloud and your legs reflected in the purple vase.
They looked a little wider there, weirder in that argument of curves.
A trick of the light.
Nobody noticed, but that serious glance happened anyway.
“It’s just everything.”
But that’s how these problems get solved, running.
Like a Hitchcock blonde. All your life a secret.
Quiet on the train. Blinds drawn. What you were back there is
tied to the tracks. Two together are always going somewhere.
Only one is a wanderer.
Filed under: unicorns, verse | 3 Comments »
Posted on June 2, 2009 by darren
scanner trubble but please enjoy some small collages (and scowly faces) that i made for you anyway.
Filed under: real live art | 1 Comment »
Posted on May 17, 2009 by darren
An acceptable night for the grinders of teeth,
asleep with women’s scarves around them—
their open windows ushering the middling breeze,
which is a little damp and stirs the decent perfume
about their necks; the cars’ sly leaving tune
just before the knowing dawn; whatever
they argue about in rowhouses.
Whatever comes in the brilliant half-daylight
could be fine. They might wake in time. But now
they dream of letters, breakfast, lateness. Warm and decent things.
None of this will be there as they wake, not as they had dreamed it,
which is okay. The sleepers expect an itching neck. After dawn
all the porch lights might stay on, spare light
on the alright street.
Filed under: verse | 2 Comments »