Scheduled Solitude

You guys are doing a good job of leaving me alone
There’s a code for those that know
You only give to the ones that show
And, oh, how quiet it’s grown

The rsvps unanswered
The promises, then the cancels
All appointments go in pencil
I feel so reprehensible

If I count on those that are accountable
The sum would come to doubtible
The deficits are insurmountable
For good friends are just not bountiful

We are made to feel rejected
If no human contact is inflected
But what if I elected
my time, my own,
To embrace introspection?

Here am I at the ready!
I am punctual. I am steady
It’s hard to be regretting
Having a good friend in myself

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Published in: on August 5, 2015 at 12:03 pm  Comments (1)  
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Shearing Skin

I had lost all hope
I was a fixture
a figment
a ligament contracted
in fists and fits
a misfit unfit
for fitting in
shearing skin
falsely thinking it let them in
 
 
Too grave to give
And given in
Gape gowned to the ghost
I gave way in ghastly grins
It sadly seeps and sways
In sweeps and says
“The cloth that hangs
Is wearing thin”
 
The naked haunt
Who has my heart
He harped and harked
Into the dark
So, to fall I followed
The invisible hollow
That fallow fellow
I met at my pillow
To pluck the plantation
Of flesh-cotton sorrow
 
No sheep can spin
That ripened skin
The fluffs of buff
I’ve given him
And gauged the girth
Of all his grim
On graveyard shifts
At the cotton gin
 
Of my frightly frocks
He dawned at dusk
I hemmed and hawed
“He has a husk!”
Hushed and hidden
Till head hits hay,
He woke me as I slipped away
 
Although remained in his remains
He reaps with me, now
In the rags of wraiths
And raves in tones of razor blades
Too visible to vanish
and too vanquished to be vain
 
We traipse along
the brim of night
showing our skin
Our dark burning bright
And haunt the fringe
of flocks in flight
 
and frighten the fowl
with hues and howls
how we flash and flaunt
our cacophonous cowls
and dive back to the morn’s burning sun
with jaundice yellow yowls
and our skin undone
 
Each midnight I mend
The shredded shroud
and cackle as I count it down
My hope, it seems
In seams, so soft
Are cloaks where I’m
no longer lost.
Published in: on May 5, 2014 at 12:26 am  Leave a Comment  
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Summer’s Salts

There was nothing but summer there,
daydreams and miracles in ragged hills strewn like teddy bears 
with seams ripped open wide, thunderhead cotton exploding out
thistle in the sky, songs in our mouths.
Every inch of river new as I
carving curves in banks like exercise
        
The sun hid behind the moon
bashful it’s radiance could not compete
with eclipse-red lips, sundresses
breeze brought kisses and big sunglasses…
 
And hitting high in the afternoon, there
were we, strings, vibrating
and still,
hot
air
 
nothing could touch what was
so full; 
humidity so thick
and bosoms
uncooled
and souls, how we beamed
in the half light of the interrupted sun
we came undone and back again
and saw ellipses in holes by pins
 
the friends,
they know 
how slow summer feels,
with drips beading and falling from behind knees
and bits of cotton that drifts from tree to tree
and me, I was completely taken, and given back
so I could do it all again with similar results:
riding green sloping hills on river’s edge
and sweating summer’s salts.
 
 
Published in: on June 11, 2012 at 1:21 am  Comments (6)  
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Fair-weather Friend

My joy is gone
with the sun
but was that me at all?
My woeful winter
could be my center
My fair-weather friend,
leads me on.
  
All the fancies and the foils
those sweltering nights encourage
leave me when frost bites hard.
The lump that’s left
is the real me, I guess
That boisterous party girl
is a facade 
built by summer’s
glimmer-prismic holographs.
  
She cares not 
about the worries
in my frigid core,
that fair-weather friend,
damned doppelganger.
Reports say she’s South,
basking in radiance
while I am here 
crawling through fog 
and puddles
of quiet sorrow.
 
I know she returns
because I give her substance,
soul;
and I tolerate her
so I can be included
in the follies of
unfledged communes.
 
 So pathetic and dismal am I
that half of me leaves
for half of the year.
Published in: on November 24, 2011 at 11:12 pm  Leave a Comment  
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