Bunny Lamp

Then Gone

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 10:27:45 -0500

This morning I walked the dog.

The neighborhood was quiet.

The air was cold,

Or at least as cold as it can get in a sprinkler-fueled necropolis like this one.

The dog wandered from leaf to leaf, from pine cone to pine cone, anomaly to anomaly.

And then a leaf fell.

But it didn’t spiral down onto the ground.

For some reason,

the fates had crafted the leaf so perfectly,

that it flew.

In a straight line it flew all the way to the opposite side of the street like a paper airplane,

then settled to the ground.

Perfect.

And that moment’s gone.

It’ll never come again.

But I guess that’s perfection.

Fleeting.

Accidental.

Comes upon you when walking your dog down an empty street.

Never when you want it.

Never when you need it.

Just a leaf, in the sky, flying over your head.

Then gone.

Down the hall the dryer is running

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 12:33:04 -0500

It makes a perfect rhythm.

Thump thump thump.

I walk past it down the hall and try not to let my steps fall in time with it.

Thump thump thump.

But the rhythm is so perfect that it’s hard not to. I have to concentrate and step in odd times.

Thump thump thump.

And what am I doing? Why is this a war I’m trying to win? What’s the endgame? Am I going to be the lord and master of the hallway?

There’s two ways to go on the edge of a vortex. Into. Out of.

And to hang there, in between two forces, the forces pulling me out, the forces sucking me in, that’s where I’ve been.

Teetering between something and nothing, between the thumping down the hall and the odd steps away from it.

Scared of the vortex, scared of the void.

Thump thump thump.

The House is Quiet,

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 19:35:00 -0500

It’s sunday and I didn’t get any sleep last night.

I had to have a second cup of tea in the afternoon.

It’s made me jumpy.

Anxious in the quiet and the stillness, in the occasional rushing of one car down an empty street.

And for some reason, right now, I’m thinking about when the Marsalis brothers played Mozart at carnegie hall.

Everyone went for the novelty, and then were surprised when they conducted an orchestra like the best of them.

And then, in the middle of the whole thing, one of them sat down in front of a piano.

The whole orchestra stopped.

And he played.

Something of his own, something improvised, something Mozart would’ve loved.

The crowd was silent. I mean they always are. It’s Mozart. It’s Carnegie Hall.

But they were silent in their hearts. In the depths of their chest they were still.

Receiving something.

The echoed tones reached out.

“I am here.” It said.

“Here I am. I exist.”

“Can you hear me out there?”

And then, the abboration ceased. Mozart returned.

The audience all wondered why it happened.

If it happened.

They all sat in their seats that night wondering, “Am I here?”.

A piano answered them.

“Here I am.”

“I am here.”

God’s voice- Amidst line three, my pen runs dry.

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 07:08:53 -0400

God’s voice-

Amidst line three,

my pen runs dry.

Sunday

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 07:08:55 -0400

On sunday I trim my beard, water the indoor plants, start to drink a little earlier.

I test the windows and doors to make sure they’re firm, make sure they’re strong.

There’s a whole week on its way, with yes’ and no’s and maybe’s (the maybe is the worst).

I have to prepare for that.

Like a deluge, like a monsoon, the week comes in waves and if you don’t prepare you’re sucked out to sea.

The phone will ring, it will be someone upset, someone happy, someone ambivalent, some one needy, not necessarily in that order.

And then there will be the people that don’t call at all.

Those people who hover in the dark recesses of you life. You can see them faintly; a leviathan slowly turning in the fog. They are the worst ones.

They could smash onto your beaches and wipe you out or, what’s worse, they could never come at all. And leave you waiting for that fateful day.

Moving towards the deer- When he looks up, I am a tree.

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 07:08:48 -0400

Moving towards the deer-

When he looks up,

I am a tree.

At heaven’s gates Published poems do not count.

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 07:08:52 -0400

At heaven’s gates

Published poems

do not count.

Bank teller- false nails click on calculator buttons.

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 07:08:52 -0400

Bank teller-

false nails click

on calculator buttons.

Writer’s block- in the silence my pen clicks on and off.

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 07:08:50 -0400

Writer’s block-

in the silence

my pen clicks on and off.

Her apartment a block away. How far really?

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 07:08:48 -0400

Her apartment

a block away.

How far really?

Piles on

Sun, 06 Sep 2009 07:08:52 -0400

There’s a stack of magazines at my feet full of people’s accomplishments.

I can’t bear to look at them. They keep arriving in the mail and collecting under my desk.

I don’t know what to do with them.

I read of the worlds of others and there’s this shadow that grows longer and longer across me.

It’s hard to live in that,

to do anything in that.

I don’t want to shut out the world, but the more I know of the world, the more I realize that I’m not in it.

In the corner of the back bedroom of my apartment I live a life of complete fantasy. Everything in theory. Nothing realized.

I’m doing it even now, trying to create a myth around these few lines.

What’s the beginning, the middle, the end?

Well there never is one, is there?

Nothing stops, nothing ceases, it all rolls forward and eventually rolls over us all.

And maybe the people in the magazines around my feet have realized this.

If there’s no beginning or end, and it’s all an abyss of possibilty and failure, none of it meaning a thing.

Why not go?

Math problems in his heart have now been multiplied.

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 07:08:49 -0400

Math problems

in his heart

have now been multiplied.

Stormclouds coming- the birds shout madly trying to organize.

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 07:08:50 -0400

Stormclouds coming-

the birds shout madly

trying to organize.

Parking lot traffic- A tired woman A fighting couple

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 07:08:54 -0400

Parking lot traffic-

A tired woman

A fighting couple

Last place- The runner enjoys the countryside

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 07:08:48 -0400

Last place-

The runner

enjoys the countryside

Extra toothbrush Messy sheets But she’s gone.

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 07:08:58 -0400

Extra toothbrush

Messy sheets

But she’s gone.

City Morning Edge of winter Chevy coughs into being.

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 07:08:12 -0400

City Morning

Edge of winter

Chevy coughs into being.

Desperate rains- the soft ants search for hiding places.

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 07:01:20 -0400

Desperate rains-

the soft ants search

for hiding places.

I just found some of my older stuff. Ew.

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 16:25:38 -0400

Thinking I know the tune.

Sat, 22 Aug 2009 17:23:36 -0400

I thinking I can remember how to do this.
I’ve been buried in “the stuff” for so long.
Can I get it all back.
I guess you never get anything back.
I guess nothing’s ever the same.
But I can remember the tune.
The instruments are different.
There’s a brass section now.
Strings.
A singing lady.
Music notes on sheet after sheet of paper.
But I think I know the tune.
I think I can get it back.
I think.
Its been a long time.
But this used to be the only way I lived.
Used to be the tune sang me.
I would just have to sit still and it would be in my blood.
But things are different now.
I’m running after it,.
I can catch it.
I think I know the tune.