High School Poems III

Random?Thoughts

Reason?

Reason beyond what I can give you.

It’s a light in a dark room

Where poetry’s watchdog can’t bark

And under the desk, a fly listens.

(And they tell me this is so!)

The Plum Grove

Slippin’ through a plum grove

Plums boxin’, aimin’ for my eyes.

Plums pum-pum-pummelin’ my eyes.

Explodin’ purple bang-bang

Purple in my eyes.

The toes in my feet

Clingin’ to the ground,

Curlin’ hawk’s talons

Clingin’ to the ground,

Tryin’ not to back away.

A purple whirlwind of plum-plums

Funnels round-and-round

And knocks me down!

Bricks

A quilt of bricks wrapped, wrapped

Around windows, faces in windows,

Happiness and boredom and anxiety

In windows.

Bricks in a sea -

A sea of bricks -eddies- twists

Marching closer closer.

Leaping into your eyes,

Breathed out of your mouth.

A cloud of red bricks

Held in your throat

(A chalky taste)

Folded paper or rat’s feet scratching scratching

-And suddenly-

Gone!

High School Poems Part II

Mare Tranquillitatis

Stand under an autumn shadow,

And you will know what loneliness is.

Awake.

Eyes in black dress.

And thoughts that do not know

Who their dreamers are.

In Mind

Leave the world of objects

Join the realm of colors:

When has yellow shown more yellow

That the yellow shines today?

(As the blue faded to distant gray)

The rain drop contains more

Light than you’ll find in a lifetime.

It does not feel content it is -

What is this? I cannot hear

Roses clogging up my ears

And mountains is their high estate.

What? No, I don’t know!

The crows crow

They just do.

Fog

A strange feeling arises

When all contrasts have gone.

I stared out at a sea covered in fog.

“Beauty” relies on distinction.

Two lines, two colors meet and balance.

But the fog.

The fog glowed from another place.

A warmth that was itself,

Not reliant on the soul of another.

Waiting

I was a sparrow once.

I sat on a branch

And did all the things

Sparrows do.

Lamp light shatters on the pavement,

It must have gotten lost,

But I, I just don’t know.

The world is a small whirlpool -

A little confusing, and I’ve

Never seen one.

No. Maybe a cardboard box,

Useful but lonely.

I’m sitting next to a pepper plant

Now. Its drying in a plastic pot.

The texture of the peppers -

Most magnificent.

Wish you could see it.

High School Poems Part I

Winter Afternoon

Pale glow on a rusty bridge

Sitting just so -

A gust of paper birds

Might scare it off

But there are no paper birds

(don’t worry).

Sometimes when I look at the floor

I swear it is moving.

Shifting and bulging under my feet.

Do you have the time?

I think it’s a little late, but

I don’t think any of us can

really keep time (it’s timid).

The Crow

A crow shot through a

Cathedral’s stained glass window.

A gust of feathers

And red and green and gold and blue

Glass

(Paused above our heads)

Tomorrow is the beginning of days.

The window bled on the floor,

The crow shattered (instantly).

Reborn into the Now

Memory is a time that passes:

As winter we know no

Summer chill.

We swirl and find

No depth,

No pain at the end of

A word.

To live is – intuitive.

Did you know your dining table

Is most brilliant in sunlight?

Gods and demons – circling.

Vultures to our fate.

Always in the sky, but none,

Not one willing

To taste us.