Wednesday, May 27, 2015

<war>



<war>
 when crows find it simple
 to tell the truth
 <\anytime>
 <\thistime>
 <bare>
  stripped to a face
  with no skin,
  no room for fire -
  thing like a rag
  doused with gas
  and burning tire
  <time/>
   1943
   <Leningrad>
   <olga\>
    the camp whore
    tripped in an open
    pot of hot oil
    and survived
    <escape>             
     he swam thru
     sewer shit to crawl 
     beyond the wire -
     we caught him picking
     pant legs from the barbs:
     blood sprinkled
     white dancing shoes
     when captain shot him
     <Helsinki>
      <portent>
       mountain ash berries
       red as blood
       smelled like carrion,
       lasting a lifetime
       <return>
        back home, he broke
        his wife's arm, made
        get rich quick schemes,
        and terrified the children
       </return>
      </portent>
     </Helsinki>
    </escape>
   </Leningrad>
  </bare>
 </war>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Monday, May 25, 2015

<contrail>

<contrail>
 scratched sky
 <cardinal>
  calling:
  not bondage, not air
  paint your love for me
  like the jet
 </cardinal>
</contrail>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Saturday, May 23, 2015

<words>

<words>
 rags and pearls
 mimed from mother's face
 <spirit>
  seeking that stitch
  of escape
 </spirit>
</words>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<beauty>

<beauty>
 blinding me
  <forget>
  I have only myself to blame,
  seeking the bones that line 
  spirit 
  <\forgive>
 </forget>
</beauty>

Friday, May 22, 2015

Portal, Abiquiu 2014


Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Raven Lookout, Abiquiu 2014


Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Fence, Abiquiu 2014


Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Morada, Abiquiu 2014


Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Borders

Plane trees and hydrangeas
shade vixens beneath a nubile
moon. Their cackle torments
the dreaming dog.

I fish frogs from the pool water. 
Hawk shadow imprints the surface,
talon awaiting feast as the world sleeps.

If only I were a tree I'd know how to rest alone, 
or a stone enduring what it is to be.
Or fog so I learn how to dream.

    in outposts on the border
    where habits and codes unravel,
    earth's dark faith seeks light,
    shadow and salvation

Trees know no time,
They can stand alone.
Spring leaves grow in old bark, 
writing untold stories.
Seeding and reaping,
the day traces my shadow like 
raindrops in night's dry mouth.
This world marks me
with blood and dust,
putting grit in my teeth
to grind, teaching its harsh
lesson of survival.

    find your way in ice and snow,
    doubt, distrust, and heart's deceit
    in pilgrimage to unknown worlds 
    from outposts at the border

Sweeping urge
to clean up dust at the door -
bring me to the crypt,
cauterize my wound
with a life to erect,
or remains to discard.

    I want to be born
    in new worlds
    and burn from my brain
    the faces of lie
    and despair in this one.

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved

<neighbor>

<neighbor>
 <dusk>
  the heat of the day
  cuts its dry, cracked
  teeth into the cool
  wind from desert sage
  and mountain firs
  <silence>
   I watch you watching me
   there behind the gate
   where you park your RV
   <emptiness>
    is it suspicion bred
    by moonless night?
    resentment coiled
    like a rattler
    around lavic stone?
    or is it just the end of years
    creeping into joints
    and jaw, setting them aflame
    with terror and awe?
    <commandment>
     love your neighbor
     as you love yourself
     <ר֫וּחַ>
      the body and spirit
      sleep soon enough
      the blood flows
      too much where
      it will never rain
     </ר֫וּחַ>
    </commandment>
   </emptiness>
  </silence>
 </dusk>
</neighbor>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved

<dishes>

<dishes>
 celebrate
 the stain of things past,
 the reward of the hunt,
 the work of the hands,
 the purity of tears
</dishes>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<love>

<love>
 laugh and cry
 with the demons
 <door>
  nothing's sacred
  but prayers
  coming home
 </door>
 <\unconditional>
</love>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Thursday, May 21, 2015

<animal>


Image: Robert Rauschenberg, Tree of Life Prune

<animal>
 me
 <twigs>
  i snap segments with my nails
  on the walk from the train -
  a primal grammar
  <\patience>
 </twigs>
</animal>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<sticks>

<sticks>
 picking up
 <waterfall>
  washing wounds
  in a hotel room
  <\canyon>
 </waterfall>
</sticks>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights
Reserved 

<commute>

<commute>
 bluebells dancing in the rain
 <old songs>
  magic circle of rhyme -
  mute lives, blind words
 </old songs>
</commute>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<hummingbird>



<hummingbird>
 outside my window
 <nectar>
  what word from the dead?
 </nectar>
</hummingbird>

Poem and image: Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<baby>

<baby>
 breathing hard in sleep
 <stars>
  what makes him
  fight to see dawn?
 </stars>
</baby>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<sun>

<sun>
 soul mate
 <earth>
  soft fingers
  rain pours down
  <\seeds>
 </earth>
</sun>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<garbage>


Image: Dirty White Trash by Tim Noble and Sue Webster, 1998

<garbage>
 parsed into halves,
 decay
 in not beginning
 <hoard>
  good and evil
  erected around
  dying moments
 </hoard>
 <\zeno>
</garbage>

Poem: Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<bay>


Image: Paul Klee

<bay>
 sail boat
 <storm>
  fiddling a tune
  the waves
  jig on the sand
  as chaos dies,
  fileted like a fish 
 </storm>
</bay>

Poem: Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller
All rights reserved 

<mnemonic>

<mnemonic>
  <shell>
   fading gray nerves
   gnarled fingers
   <body>
    broken like water
    in a dry arroyo
    :recalling nights
    when it was hero
    in their romance:
    shoulders fail
    holding up skin machine,
    seeking flame
    to become pure
    <spirit>
     ash in wind
     sighing sighs
     singing dusk
     <repair>
     the voice
     of the desert 
     breeze - love
     without measure
     < אָהַב>
      
     </אָהַב>
    </repair>
   </spirit>
  </body>
 </shell>
 <\erasure>
 <\oblivion>
</mnemonic>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller