The Grand Ballet

In the dead of dead

in the night of night

there, you are, in front of yourself

in the mirror of your destiny

counting the years like receipts

in the accounting book of time

in the destiny of destiny

in the time of time

nothing matters

for all is played out then absorbed

each sharp pivot becoming soft memory

but only if there is someone to remember

In remembering the destiny you recover the night

your fingertips playing time across keys of illumination

you, the living memory of the dead, an onward step

here, now, after the give away

after each and every purge

after sickness became liberation

in the end you let go even hope

and smile with naked acceptance

 

 

 

 

make/believe

What if the children were the gods

among us all the time

as we fenced them in and limited their



shining gods that stumble

see the loving mother showing him how to eat

like a bird with her



young we played those childhood games

but we saw other worlds

some of us didn't



return to truth can a heart harden

calcified from pain

shrunk



in tiredness I believe the night has answers

but I rarely dwell in her blue

for dreams pull me and not just dreams



sometimes, perhaps one day, we will feel again

in renewed innocence

the god within our memory

 

 

 

 

American Flag

No one remembered the definitive moment that the baby’s screams stopped clawing the afternoon heat with rips of anxiety

They just became aware of the silence which struck to the gut with its sickening reason

The father’s hand fell away from clutching her dress

Family blood running familiar

clotting in the sidewalk

Her small body hit his as they both went down

down

with no opposite ever to occur again

The police chief wiped his brow, thinking of the paperwork

Lucky they were Hispanic; less money to buy trouble for him

but the baby getting shot was still going to take some explanation

The mother was being sick on the molten tarmac

smell of trauma and city mixed

Hitting her head with empty hands

forever empty hands

feeling the rip in her womb

The sound of that internal scream was rising, forcing its high fury and pain out through every pore

On all fours

swaying incoherent hurling incantations to curse her husband for using their baby as a shield

The marksmen exited to waiting vehicles

with debriefings to get the official line

they did not even exchange a look

but one looked at her

and felt repulsion for this outpouring

out there in full view bare and raw

He wanted to fuck her

Fuck her on the road, ram her ass and throw her down so her head split blood red gash

Then she turned and caught his eye

knew what this white policia was thinking

Seen that look before, felt those grabbing hands

heard the insults, been hit by spit

She caught his eye, hurled her ancestry

and the power of the grandmothers flew to avenge

First they ate those dead eyes

Then they pulled out that dead heart

and cackling, reduced him to slivers of flesh

the American flag to hoist high

The Chicken

Press Play

Wound tight by the blue screen

where once they called you Blue Sky

and you danced in fields with no money or home but a ride in a converted bus

in Wales or Greece or Holland or Australia

The modern-day cyber shroud pulls

a preventive to vertigo

You're always falling

and you say don't let me off at the next stop I need to keep going

But where is there to go now

What kind of times are these

perhaps the time to go on your knees

set the record button

ensure your heroes are on repeat

Green Shoes

Years before I knew you I was walking down Rue de Rivoli and I saw

those green and silver snake print trainers

and I had to

have them

And years later, still before I knew you, I had to let them go

because I went to another place and drank in a bar called Freedom and my bag was already filled with other things

And now I am thinking of them

and thinking of you at the same time

and thinking about what time is and decisions of memory

and a continuum of missing something or someone

different names and forms

a mutable loss

which now I will to change to presence

and this beautiful day brought me here to understanding the astrologers' words

when they talk of Chiron in Aries and how to take it IN, they say 'in' like that with accentuation

and I see the power of time and being that is living inside myself and I laugh that I was mourning the sudden limitation to my newly stepped identity because

Yes