Nay, learned doctor,: December 2009

DECEMBER 23

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Some silences, and a two-fronted cold
stay emblazoned, demurely, swathed
in palpebral near-black, and detached
and looking on, over shoulders unseen
at a bare aping of acts thought real,
and pressing fingers against arms,
expectant.

For something not new, not novel
but remembered and re-substantiated
in touch, in the gloaming of indents
more real than the imagined hand
pulsing,

dull and noisily, should you listen.
But the pulsing is not what you remember.
The touch of comforting vespers,
and wordless, though significant, whispers
unbidden
explicitly, though anticipated and now,
perhaps, made for the first time,
aggregated incognito and drawn regardant,
still, mingling with dreams' periphery.

DECEMBER 22

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

A stepping up, out balconies' snow,
pressed low to a belted sky darkened
by bright stars, and the warrior hallowed
form becoming and there, just- right
in a shared looking for Godhead;
in treed skyline, wary of disappearing
feet,

into snow; and should the whole dome
collapse, and the earth grow ravenous
in a clay feasting on the riverbank,
and bridges and men be oceaned
out,

this I will; towards terminal,
towards a deft everywhere bounding
peopled and upon roads cast out
crossing rivers, under them. Tired, ignorant
rivers.
Below and unsightly, take the tunnel now
and I will! for the belted sky above
is static with courage and folly, will yield
(so long as is told). Time enough.

DECEMBER 21

Monday, December 21, 2009

Daughters two, comforted sororal
round the wrist, pocketed
once safely harboured
and traveling as in odes up
Father the river, river lining
great incandescent reeds among
incident.

From the swelling ground,
now contented upon it
and assertive in song
to such effects and further
glories.

Abductions of these two,
though, are divined and troublesome
for such settled direction
that once behind, all others
behind
and swept back upon looking
closely even in desperation
confronting a callow new timbre
that is to be there.

DECEMBER 20

Maybe a panorama slapstick?
Hard Times Song of Annunciation:
see-saw rail refugees,
and sad country song-singers
walking lolled and taped,
prophetic, earning apostles'
tearfalls.

Flowers context round the wounds.
Black scrapes of acute metallic
distraction. Pain is of the true
full steady guitjo sideways
strums.

Hanging out of consciousness,
and outside, outside always
approaching boundaries waxed
or worse things within territories
intimate.
Hummed out, lost quickly.
The physical thing- that
ephemra and proof, right?
Newcomers, the tracks are on fire sometimes.

DECEMBER 19

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Gently gone, sun-seduced snow
reroutes clumsily the mundane foot-falls
off the curb, inspiring single bolts
of motion and dance, and a hand
brought up in triumph upon landing,
all that is attached to it nearly
toppled,

by a cord sunken in, grown over
in piety or folly still plucked
in expectation of reverb let be
or pressed, distorted with flexed
pick-ups

feeding a white fuzzed roar
bereft of malice in intentions
toward the center, but at transients
(as are all else vaguely defined)
seen,
this great distance above the sea
newly formed, feeds rivers suckling
of separate trials, rushing round
the holy pillar that may have loved, itself.

DECEMBER 18

Nestled in malfocused glaze
throbbing and living, sung forth
in crescendoed pixelated mass
brightly projects, thought of sweetly
and looped and left on past
a realization of abstraction
forward

to sparse cars and accordion
licks say you in unison with-
bus turns and cramped crowds
of complexity not considered,
sanely,

as blood-lettings' fall from vogue
mis-mystification, clunkily let
a way for harmony, and awe,
dripped like love over gessoed
hearts
of uncertain Dolmenic form.
Give way! all of it! the impotent
gesticulations and feedback howls
lacking concrete, are respite.

DECEMBER 17

Bridges' legs tattooed and painted
up for a hand-reddening cold day,
counting minutes precisely, smothering
signals of well-wishes and feebled sighs
concerning arrivals planned poorly,
in tandem with beloveds lacking
agency,

standing amid dear frosted drift-
wood, denied title of relics holy
by their abundance and anonymity,
conversing one-sidedly in tepid prayer-
sounds

lost amid superfluous clanging
for those newly boarded, not
slowing the trip but in thought
anxious for ever-quickening
departures
to pry open a timèd trip by
pantomimed rapidity for your sake;
thoughty tics and movements done seated
pale passenger for ticket not journey.

DECEMBER 16

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Set down, twinned steely aeons
of passing, of fixity and things
unfelt upon the sleepers' tongues.
The stone lifted, the split wood
and stations established and unseen
but perennial with the people
waiting,

in loss and becoming, stamped
over lines of poetry handled
by lines of gravid couriers
hanging onto trapezes metallic
grounded

with the heel of the machinations
they guide. Themselves the sons
and dream-works of the train
unbeknown and impoverished
by this,
harsh towing of a passing car
bearing the wind and the light
in a still dark morning funk
addressed by a floating ballast.

DECEMBER 15

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Bear on in singularity, proper,
it did. Through a glazed darkness,
rendering aspects of worldliness
all conflated, now struck
by winters' individualization of bare
things; branches succoring sky fully
themselves.

People puffed up, under roses
and fragile ceilings, warmed and dull
in fragments of personhood, blue
or black or shivering bare,
thin,

and exposed as yet unnoticed victims
of a seasonal haranguing,
the forces of frosted dead ground
hard around dawdling feet,
held,
as pins and nails, fast to terrain.
Stationary and ruddy, dried out
around lips and eyes cracked red
looking for motion, an annunciation.

DECEMBER 14

Scene, still for now, of cars lined
white-eyed with hoary glass
speaking of expanse unthought,
sanely neglected and passed over
by milquetoast wandering wipers,
impotent on the sheet slick
unseeing

snow, crystalline in fixation
its wet-statured hoardings
coating vehicles, nonchalantly
a nuisance blessed by pure
formation,

white and complete in being,
attracting feet only in the manner
that a page does thought; prayer
for the sake of time matched vrs.
immaculate
space such as you present now,
wholly approximating endless,
singing passed white dirges, scraped
way to less complete sights.

DECEMBER 13

Sunday, December 13, 2009

It came in on the right, heading
behind us, I think, and the slow
motivic movements of the train
second-guess us, our travel up
into a mistiness called rain, lit
from above us, leaving puddles
black

as pavement. Working out the real
and the symbolic, violence
and populism. Hum the left-out verse
of a song made kindergarten-
safe.

Warmed up feet and soft altos left,
chastise the crowd as we teem
as one with them, hurrying for seats
and a chaste corner, dry,
supportive.
The plastic falls out of the doors,
I've seen. Multiplied thousands,
hands miss by minutes
despite a common meanness.

DECEMBER 12

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Stop softly now for us, sunk
deeply into a crawling move
through Ohio and the local
galaxies riding alongside, level
and doubled in a window darkly, my
thin light confounding the many
more

alien ones of the landscape, free
of time in its egregious size,
cast starkly against consistency
of the rail and our paled
movements

with it, turbulent rolling conducive
to sleep and other stupors
embraced fearfully, out of emotion
effected by taut gazes
out
and the taking into yourself this
compromise, with your country,
its lights and sometimes fearsome
others passing you, woke too by you.

DECEMBER 11

Order you holiday pie here,
lighted optimistic gas station
left a time before, current
as smong0smeared light stretched
rod-like past comfort spherical
to us, passing cramped and heat-bringing
trembling,

blinking on and off, panorama entire
contingent on hillèd wants,
vaulting vision anyways with glee
ending it, wavering garage light
out,

forgotten, lit for hours following
its spirited flight from memory,
airily extant, dragged groundward,
flickering cleanly as with motion
bound,
ceded to a green, cleansed
archipelago of certain brilliance,
set tight in smog, ignorant of origin,
prelapsarian and passed, of course. Of course.

DECEMBER 10

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Brush your hair demurely alert,
ever-welcoming sound & rain,
assuage shoulder pangs,
attentive right? Loving
always, sing a song now
you've begun, full and low,
to go,

and rest looking on lit, righteous
harbours themselves reflectionless
supporting bright faces refractory
and turned, pinned unawares of
shufflings

cast up, lost and trafficked.
The beginning concluded
left restless and empty of eye-
sighted tenderness headed back
shivering
and deaf now, detached
from impressions quickened
by a sly knowing, and a story
sustained in not-sleeping thought.

DECEMBER 9

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Days wasting flurries and boundaries
of feeling, the layers reinforce
and construct separately, slipt
away from potential touches
and dangerous saying-ons,
going-ons and all the other
souls

left. This blearied green edge,
none else but these listening stones,
pushed drawn in circlings
looking behind and feeling
in unison.

Associational gusts ear'd,
dreams of want, wanton flights
of waxed substance too-low
tides baring marks uncleared yet
shallow,
filled with affectations sincere
and cool, tears less so,
a buoying shakes all too obscured
extempore smiles, stuttered seagulls.

DECEMBER 8

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Dimmed forms of others
limited here to hesitant expectation,
the distraction of divine
Belovèds, necks and being
traced by tracks and machineries
in Orphic solemn weighty-toned
voices,

calling departed, gathering
into itself: diaphanous greeneries,
grey-cast of stolid presence
as of coherence and effusive
reveries

moving towards a gradual being
in weeks and other such divisions
elegiac, rallied to truth, daily
successes for conversations
mirror'd.
Smile now and sillily come
thusly, steal away from poetry
and imaginations proffered
and lived in vain (I raise my hand!)

DECEMBER 7

Monday, December 7, 2009

Tracks times and pensive legs
avail caught up, of
one another sleeping.
Notes composed round absence
and impaired having been
largely the whole of you
here,

stopped backlit too long
too orange sky too waxed
moon crouched there,
idle makings among things
vital,

swept up, starried frenzy
of an aria sustained, once,
seen and given witness to,
held in sickness vaguely,
unfinished
and fervent. Brought in quickly
melding into others' days
benign and horrible, for that
and its implications.

DECEMBER 6

Sunday, December 6, 2009

She the thin grate
water and cars and
bridge I am on
unwelcoming, laneless
lacking clean air
though I'm passed
now,

many times away.
Single ride back. Go
under ground returning round
airy bridges, slickly
darkened.

From passing a memory:
of the bridge, adjacent,
contained and steel
granting crossing to freights
needed
over water mucked
poles and lines
supported historical
away from the making new.

DECEMBER 5

Saturday, December 5, 2009

It goes on unfathomable,
arable forms of stations,
formations memorial flowing
forth, particular source-spring
fond of odes and dying words.
Shades lacking beauty,
lost,

but relieved: sung to and with,
trail and strummings full
metallic and hidden upon
banal bedrock, cradling expectant
transit

line, rail line in furrows
essential. Being and making
new memory relived. Artifact
arranged and excavated
words,
decoded and mystical.
Persons and things constructed
poorly, and worldly,
writ of scraping-out.

DECEMBER 4

Friday, December 4, 2009

Whys and ares, sees, be
close to you, I, close
as letters and tresses.
They disdain each other,
see, three rows back,
embittered (not) lovers'
contact.

Before they met they
piped on down, timed
and perplexing. Not the
object of fear quite not
beneath

the terminal grandiose stairway
above in the sense
of roped off, save–
I call you, face of the meek
Host!
Be, always, like vision
endless as our life is,
endless in song for
thou that art.

December Epigraph

I swear I take no pleasure
in being on the earth

but a longing seizes me to die
and see the dewy
lotus banks...

-Sappho

Nay, learned doctor, these fine leeches fresh
From the pond's edge my cause cannot remove:
Alas the sick disorder in my flesh
Is deeper than your skill, is very love.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Everything is not enough
and nothin' is too much to bear.

-Townes Van Zandt

DECEMBER 3

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Coherence fretting yet still,
benched and chilly clamoring
for greatness and legitimacy
concerning varied arrogations,
jittery and weary both
and things are maybe
too much.

Sun bearing down, heralded
loudly and again and soon
the clamor and the light
is become forcane past jilted
causality.

Affect as overload arrives.
Senses run ragged, full dealings
with the scheduled bleating
arrival of journey and
other
times, other things
privy to catechismal narration
seen unseen etc
and all just– here.

DECEMBER 2

Rusting at rest, embraced
dewily by supplicant grass,
its grey lambency
coddled close, warmly
and stern with hesitation
belying permanence with defiant
coldness.

Manifest westward,
engineered lyre without end
clanging out songs to stones
bereaved on steely picked
tresses:

Song of passing, song
of timetables, source
giving forth in anger
a wind its own afflicting
deferents
awash upon the platform
possessing impatient certainty
of purpose, giving themselves
into the bosom of Eos.

DECEMBER 1

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Roads splayed over terrain,
cast now in a delicate dance
as of a haphazard fawn round a shot,
the sombre esurience qua being
of the rails. Pregnant with parking
complexes and middling dreamed
people.

A gate transient
in tall grass and disguisèd brambles
open perpetually sporadically
by impassioned touches
of asthmatic runners of
wind-

'round and cloaking
limbs and minds, frozen as a body
sits there
is__there
is
dry, cold and stuck
in breaths as no
mere negation; a smothering chill
like warm smothering damp
.

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