Lingering on, in the presence of longing
When the ache screams in the silence whether of days or years
It’s an unheard cry that reverberates in heart and mind
Haunted by our joys that turn to tears
Whether of loss or the grief of the estranged
A garden of tombstones commemorated
Former things and faith for homecomings
The life we knew whether dead or still alive
Whether prodigal or heavenly celebrated
......
west stars
corner bars
streets i went walking dark
with parallel peril
parked chevrolet
and dodge charger cars
we are the first to awaken
and since the crumble
the battleship
......
Entombed in pregnant forlornness,
Entrapped in life's tiffs, lovelessness,
The living-dead man zombie-walked,
Overpowered by the wind, insulted by insects.
He saunters now and then, hither and thither,
Chatting with the trees, mistaken, every so often, for one non compos mentis. He zombies about, unaware of his deeds, super dead-ish.
Alive yet lifeless, he is but a living dead,
Fully alive, yet fully dead.
......
Talking to you was always a waste of time, you didn't listen at all.
Talking to you was worthless, it was like talking to a brick wall.
I showed you a movie about a young boy who took drugs and then drowned in the swimming pool.
I thought it would scare you into stopping your drug use but you laughed instead, that wasn't cool.
Many years ago when my brother was at your house when we were young,
you used something that made you cough up black stuff out of your lungs.
That should've showed you how bad and dangerous drugs are, it should've been a wake up call.
But you continued to do drugs, talking to you was a dumb idea, it was like talking to a brick wall.
You would use any drug that people would give you if they said it would get you high.
You got your hands on the wrong stuff and your luck ran out, and it caused you to die.
......
For as long as we can remember,
seeking favors of protection,
our kind has buried innocent
people alive: to protect borders.
To project strength. To prevent chaos.
To pray that the gods will not devour
us with their wrath. To honor the dead
and to raise new life from the hidden
......
Lingering on, in the presence of longing
When the ache screams in the silence whether of days or years
It’s an unheard cry that reverberates in heart and mind
Haunted by our joys that turn to tears
Whether of loss or the grief of the estranged
A garden of tombstones commemorated
Former things and faith for homecomings
The life we knew whether dead or still alive
Whether prodigal or heavenly celebrated
......
De zee keerde om.
Niet plotseling,
maar met de trage woede
die alleen de oceaan kent.
Wat begon als een feest-
zeilen snijdend door zout licht,
bemannigen jagend op wind en horizon-
eindigde in stemmen
die stierven onder schreeuwende luchten.
......
The sea turned.
Not suddenly,
but with the slow violence
only the ocean understands.
What began in celebration-
sails cutting through salt light,
crews chasing wind and horizon-
endend in voices lost
beneath screaming skies.
......
How I wish for your touch,
Soft and warm,
Gentler than the breeze,
Lovelier than the sun
Kissing on my bare back
That one blissful afternoon in Bray.
How I’d lay my head down
Upon the undulating sea,
Let it swallow me!
Harsh and swooning,
......
The darkness does not knock— it seeps, and it stains.
It craws through your marrow and threads through your veins.
Not a wound to touch, nor a scar to trace.
Just a hollowing force that tried your life and stole your grace.
I hear neighbors laugh, then it twists into your cries.
I know your grief presses heavy— cold and unkind.
I’m helpless in flesh as I draft, for you, my prayers.
Oh Lord— how I would bear your sorrow and spare you these labors.
......