Metanoetic Poetics: XML

Showing posts with label XML. Show all posts

Sunday, July 19, 2015

<fog>

dripping footsteps

in woods and hollows,

swirling on the blacktop,

alive with hidden fear

of a self

pining for its own loss

<there>

in the trees above the pond:

who walks there

trying to find me, seeing my end?

<tree>

if I was, I could grow alone

like green leaves on a weathered trunk

and learn how to dream,

for memory seeks eyes

as the bare trees scratch sky for light

<moths dreaming of an empire

of wool on fire \light>

<abide>

the flame inside,

the window painted

with our breath

and playful scrawls

clothe my bones,

unravel my true nature:

the dirt I'd do - if no one saw -

cleansed in the fire

</hidden>

</abide>

</tree>

</there>

</fog>

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

<hummingbird>

skimming barrio sky,

suckling honeysuckle

outside my kitchen window

<whir>

we are sun

and defy gravity

and transmute bitter to sweet

what word from the dead?

<\dream>

</nectar>

</whir>

</hummingbird>

Saturday, June 27, 2015

<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 the skin machine,

seeking flame

to become pure

ash in wind

sighing sighs

singing dusk

the voice

of the desert

breeze - love

without measure

< אָהַב>

</אָהַב>

</repair>

</spirit>

</body>

</shell>

<\erasure>

<\oblivion>

</mnemonic>

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

<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

<olga\>

the camp whore

tripped in an open

pot of hot oil

and survived

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

mountain ash berries

red as blood

smelled like carrion,

lasting a lifetime

back home, he broke

his wife's arm, made

get rich quick schemes,

and terrified the children

</return>

</portent>

</Helsinki>

</escape>

</Leningrad>

</bare>

</war>

Monday, May 25, 2015

<contrail>

scratched sky

calling:

not bondage, not air

paint your love for me

like the jet

</cardinal>

</contrail>

Saturday, May 23, 2015

<words>

rags and pearls

mimed from mother's face

seeking that stitch

of escape

</spirit>

</words>

<beauty>

blinding me

I have only myself to blame,

seeking the bones that line

spirit

<\forgive>

</forget>

</beauty>

Friday, May 22, 2015

<neighbor>

<dusk>

the heat of the day

cuts its dry, cracked

teeth into the cool

wind from desert sage

and mountain firs

I watch you watching me

there behind the gate

where you park your RV

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?

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>

<dishes>

celebrate

the stain of things past,

the reward of the hunt,

the work of the hands,

the purity of tears

</dishes>

<love>

laugh and cry

with the demons

<door>

nothing's sacred

but prayers

coming home

</door>

<\unconditional>

</love>

Thursday, May 21, 2015

<sticks>

picking up

washing wounds

in a hotel room

<\canyon>

</waterfall>

</sticks>

Reserved

<commute>

bluebells dancing in the rain

magic circle of rhyme -

mute lives, blind words

</old songs>

</commute>

<hummingbird>

outside my window

what word from the dead?

</nectar>

</hummingbird>

<baby>

breathing hard in sleep

<stars>

what makes him

fight to see dawn?

</stars>

</baby>

<sun>

soul mate

<earth>

soft fingers

rain pours down

<\seeds>

</earth>

</sun>

<garbage>

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

parsed into halves,

decay

in not beginning

<hoard>

good and evil

erected around

dying moments

</hoard>

<\zeno>

</garbage>

<bay>

Image: Paul Klee

fiddling a tune
the waves
jig on the sand
as chaos dies,

fileted like a fish
</storm>
</bay>

<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

ash in wind

sighing sighs

singing dusk

the voice

of the desert

breeze - love

without measure

< אָהַב>

</אָהַב>

</repair>

</spirit>

</body>

</shell>

<\erasure>

<\oblivion>

</mnemonic>

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

<machine>

<work>

<use>

My life spirit

Seeks the body

Of you, world

</measure>

</use>

</work>

</machine>

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

<there>

Francis Bacon, Head (1948)

<there>
</time>
</space>
</me>

<here>
</cosmos>
</solar system>
</earth>
seeing by destruction
and creation
in desert sands
where the gold
of setting suns
on dark east mountains

spills blood
<questions>
</wonder>
</awe>
why do I fill space

born from body's
rooting need,

spirit's loneliness
or obscure light
of beauty flown
in an idle glance?
<passion>
what is does not remain,
the song dies in the throat
of the warbler, the knot
in the crotch unties
in the womb
<i>
</naked>
</broken>
piecing together a scrap
book of joy and triumph,
the empty spaces
reporting who and what
I never am, where
the voices of the past
vie for unity, a piece
of infinity tasting
a dying tongue
</i>
</passion>
</questions>
</here>
</there>