notes, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

The garage

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Take the staircase

up

fluorescent light flashing

concrete + steel loneliness

new stains

past the sleeping man

with no legs

up

out to dark city morning

cars speed on First Ave

headlights like lightning

sporadic pedestrians

wraiths in fog

a taxi idles in the alley

exhaust and headlights

city of skunk

I arrive at work

less human than yesterday

when I walk out that last time

on both legs

singing

the legless man will be gone

but not my car

vessel of freedom

I speed from the garage

to reclaim my life

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dreams, Fire, literature, notes, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

the poet sleeps

NotebackAlways another page to fill; the size and shape of the page is inconsequential. I keep my pen in my hand and my hands on the steering wheel.

*

The poet sleeps

while driving

during live broadcasts

the poet dreams

of the future

with folded hands

cigarette dangling

no one speaks to the poet

fearing fire in his eyes

the poet takes note

as always

to return to sleep

deep as abandoned mines

and dream across

landscapes of horror and delight.

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DylanThomas, literature, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

That sanity be kept (D. Thomas)

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That sanity be kept I sit at open windows,

Regard the sky, make unobtrusive comment on the moon,

Sit at open windows in my shirt,

And let the traffic pass, the signals shine,

The engines run, the brass bands keep in tune,

For sanity must be preserved.

 

Thinking of death, I sit and watch the park

Where children play in all their innocence,

And matrons, on the littered grass,

Absorb the daily sun.

 

The sweet suburban music from a hundred lawns

Comes softly to my ears. The mowers mow and mow.

 

I mark the couples walking arm in arm,

Observe their smiles,

Sweet invitations and inventions,

See them lend love illustration

By gesture and grimace.

I watch them curiously, detect beneath the laughs

What stands for grief, a vague bewilderment

At things not turning right.

 

I sit at open windows in my shirt,

Observe, like some Jehovah of the west,

What passes by, that sanity be kept.

— Dylan Thomas

 

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literature, Neruda, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

I Will Return (Neruda)

Snow

Some other time, man, or woman, traveler,

later, when I am not alive,

look here, look for me

between stone and ocean,

in the light storming

through the foam.

Look here, look for me,

for here I will return, without saying a thing,

without voice, without mouth, pure,

here I will return to the churning

of the water, of

its unbroken heart,

here, I will be discovered and lost:

here, I will, perhaps, be stone and silence.

— Pablo Neruda

 

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literature, memoir, poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized, writing

Another memory in algorithm

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I remember the smell of him alive
sweat and cologne
hair and a day’s work
in other words, the opposite of death.
I remember the smell of death
that overtook him
sour and aggressive — singular
devouring him inside-out.
Both scents linger
memories enforce them, time fades them
years accumulate
as do fragrances
but the dead are still dead — shadows
the living are measured against them.
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Excerpt, literature, Neruda, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

Neruda’s The great urinator

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Pablo Neruda, From Selected Failings (Defectos Escogidos) 1972-1973

The Great Urinator (El Gran Orinador)

The great urinator was yellow
and the stream that came down
was bronze-colored rain
on the domes of churches,
on the roofs of cars,
on factories and cemeteries,
on the populace and their gardens.

Who was it, where was it?

It was a density, thick liquid
falling as from
a horse, and frightened passersby
with no umbrellas
looked up skyward,
meanwhile avenues were flooding
and urine inexhaustibly flowing
underneath doors,
backing up drains, disintegrating
marble floors, carpets,
staircases.

Nothing could be detected. Where

was this peril?

 

What was going to happen to the world?

From on high the great urinator
was silent and urinated.

What does this signify?

I am a pale and artless poet
not here to work out riddles
or recommend special umbrellas.

Hasta la vista! I greet you and go off

to a country where they won’t ask me questions.

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