Standing a few feet above in the air,between the symmetry of the street, watching the old light dim, over old buildings and older memories,when I see two lovers kiss amongst garnled dogwood in a bloom of gaudy white, I sigh to myself again, in this new colorful spring and burn.

2001-04-05,Atlanta

Dostovesky's White Night flashed,followed by the reds of a twirling flamenco skirt.The old main street of the university framed in the whites and blues of a new spring, drawfed by the spires pushing out of the ground not too far off,I somehow saw beauty in that instant and when I turned and looked at the lane again, I saw that the carpet of flowers had caught fire and this spring was burning again!

I note; just as an aside, that it has been a few swift hours since yesterday was what today is now.

Words still are stuck in the throat,perfection of verse is hard to strive for on all the poetic days.

The roads are vases of glass filled with foliage, green transmuted to red, that tremble in the wind.

The white noise throws it's shadows across the floor, lest silence,pure and naked be too difficult to bear.

And if I strive,I can perhaps listen to a barking dog, cars on the street, and your silent breath whispering something to me.

Within today, As yesterday.

2001.11.07 15:45 Atlanta
For Doc

[A]

Parallels

Euclid’s Axiom:
	Parallel lines don’t 
             intersect 
      except at infinity.

False False again!
	Soft kisses under  fall
	          foliage
	 remembered today tell 
	
Me, how we met impossibly once.
     Two parallel lines again
                        stretching
	into the blue infinities.
[B]

Unlangauged

I will become unlangauged
	     Like the birds
The insistent fluttering of 
	     those wings
The  high pitch of  raucous
	    Bird love song
In sparse snow armored trees 
	  (You walk under)
And fill up the wintry silences
		Of my grief.
[C]

Black

Black: the color of soot
	ascendant of lights
		extinguished.
 
Black: the night I fight 
	   with puny fires
		raging tears.
 
Black: the color you liked to
	  wear; the antimony in
	       your unloving eyes 

Black: the blankness of this memory
	         I hold to write about
				Black
-----------------------------------------------
2001:12:20 02:30 Atlanta

Wrote these poems, on an Ethanol high.


My Poems