Still Life
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Winter Storm
Emerald blue chunks of dipping ice
in aquagreen Lake Michigan.
Words swirl up from my heart echoing and whispering
Never arriving to the glory of the day.
O mighty oak plying your silver fingers to the raging sky!
Silver cloud clutches you in his palm
like a Schoolboy and his yellow marble
Then he tosses you into emerald blue night
Over the frozen sea
Flying you gently home.
I am reaching for you and flying
My words gather me from the street
But my flight is pretended,
I have not left my seat.
Snow madly dances beyond my silent window;
The blizzard blows,
In the winter storm that is your love.
in aquagreen Lake Michigan.
Words swirl up from my heart echoing and whispering
Never arriving to the glory of the day.
O mighty oak plying your silver fingers to the raging sky!
Silver cloud clutches you in his palm
like a Schoolboy and his yellow marble
Then he tosses you into emerald blue night
Over the frozen sea
Flying you gently home.
I am reaching for you and flying
My words gather me from the street
But my flight is pretended,
I have not left my seat.
Snow madly dances beyond my silent window;
The blizzard blows,
In the winter storm that is your love.
Snegoruchka
From my window I recognize her in the flesh!
Green swirl of ecstasy
Struck in wonder I stumble
Oh, worlds that tumble by!
Oh, treasure in her laughing brown eyes!
She was Summer to me
And I would fain to believe
To see her when the creeks were crusted
In jagged ice.
She gathers the light that filters through Topol trees
Carrying the Summer back to me.
Rivers and streams are drunk in blue
Lolling heavy beneath the willow’s jagged hand.
Heavy crystal clutter
Mesmerizes my soul
I submit to this grey sterility as to slumber.
Snegoruchka, the Winter Princess is captive
To howling, aching fright
To pound every strong drink that Old Winter brews
This tipsy snowfooted muse!
Merry o’er the woodlands we go
Laughing and dreaming and singing!!!
Winter calls out in a tinkle of bells:
“Who goes there in the openness of day?”
“Those who believe in Light,” we cried.
Winter curses and summons legions
Of winter nymphs, and winter demons, and little itsybitsy
Devilkins
To stall the winter wanderers in their joyful step.
When Jack-in-the-Green
Has led his leafy company
To a dull retreat
‘neath December’s earthen fleece;
Father Christmas rouses
From his elemental sleep
And gathers little beasts
And tender green boughs.
Green swirl of ecstasy
Struck in wonder I stumble
Oh, worlds that tumble by!
Oh, treasure in her laughing brown eyes!
She was Summer to me
And I would fain to believe
To see her when the creeks were crusted
In jagged ice.
She gathers the light that filters through Topol trees
Carrying the Summer back to me.
Rivers and streams are drunk in blue
Lolling heavy beneath the willow’s jagged hand.
Heavy crystal clutter
Mesmerizes my soul
I submit to this grey sterility as to slumber.
Snegoruchka, the Winter Princess is captive
To howling, aching fright
To pound every strong drink that Old Winter brews
This tipsy snowfooted muse!
Merry o’er the woodlands we go
Laughing and dreaming and singing!!!
Winter calls out in a tinkle of bells:
“Who goes there in the openness of day?”
“Those who believe in Light,” we cried.
Winter curses and summons legions
Of winter nymphs, and winter demons, and little itsybitsy
Devilkins
To stall the winter wanderers in their joyful step.
When Jack-in-the-Green
Has led his leafy company
To a dull retreat
‘neath December’s earthen fleece;
Father Christmas rouses
From his elemental sleep
And gathers little beasts
And tender green boughs.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Apocalyptic Ballad No. 12
Grief comes at dawn before the first light
A dream---her eyes
Dark stones in the square before the cathedral.
In the mighty forest
we hear a dull metal roar endlessly rolling
The devil’s diamond fingers scrape the earth
Hammering a thunderous music.
The tallest oaks are falling
Thunder roars
the valley shakes
Fires leap up into the sky
Silver clouds roll on forever
But the streams have lost their way.
So valiantly gleaming
Over the ramparts we watch.
Night’s early prowl
into the valley.
Her wings torn on jagged rocks
Pale evening flees to twilight.
A dream---her eyes
Dark stones in the square before the cathedral.
In the mighty forest
we hear a dull metal roar endlessly rolling
The devil’s diamond fingers scrape the earth
Hammering a thunderous music.
The tallest oaks are falling
Thunder roars
the valley shakes
Fires leap up into the sky
Silver clouds roll on forever
But the streams have lost their way.
So valiantly gleaming
Over the ramparts we watch.
Night’s early prowl
into the valley.
Her wings torn on jagged rocks
Pale evening flees to twilight.
Old Folks Lament
Leaves beat down
Grey clouds threaten the first snow
“What did you say?”
“I can’t hear you.”
Like rattling branches.
Beaten down by life
Talking past one another
All of our vital connections behind.
Grey clouds threaten the first snow
“What did you say?”
“I can’t hear you.”
Like rattling branches.
Beaten down by life
Talking past one another
All of our vital connections behind.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
crunchkin
Hitler Weeps
*Prelude *
The final poet
lays the final wreath
upon the final altar
of the final idol
from whose broken side pour grey ashes…
The milky morning flutters overhead
and mingles in the rivers of Babylon.
1.This story cannot end
history neither advances nor falls
with the stroke of a pen,
or the folly of little men;
but writes her lines for the wise
in the dimming tide
when prophets speak and poets sing.
Michel de Nostradame
With beauty and elegant rhyme
Described the suicide of the
“Captain of Greater Germanie”
in a lowly Berlin bunker.
But leagues of prophets
Who mingle futures in their mindseye
scarce foretell
when Hitler weeps.
2. Seven fighter planes prepare for battle
over a winedark sea to distant, desert lands,
Dominoes one by one to fall.
Peacekeepers praise the war to end all wars,
But now I know the present war will never cease
Nor will midnight’s black hand retire nor rest
But the silver angel brings swift news---
Sadam Hussein laughs and laughs
At jokes no one else can share,
As the Fuhrer laughed at Berchtesgarden with Eva Braun.
But now it is all too clear that Hitler weeps.
3.Tears/ mighty beacons of regret
that shine and swell
bespeaking
volumes we cannot tell
like laughter and screaming,
joy over the water.
A metallic sky mists with radiated waste
Children with fresh tongues taste
And shriek the meaning of the many ways we weep.
Sorrow which memory contains
And won’t release
As divinities guard mountain keeps
where eagles peer from craggy peaks.
Will Wotan and Thor release their captive wings to glide?
Time is turning. He has been set free
From the silence of the stony gods
Without reason, without hesitation
Alone in his cave,
Hitler weeps.
4. After 50 years nature is all but forgotten---
Along the swift autobahn
sleek Mercedes shine and roll
reflecting the yellow of the sun
on roads that snake and never seem to end.
Streams mingle with wasting heaps which run
In aqueducts beneath motortrucks.
Dead fish rest with whited bird bones
And rainbow oil streaks
Each a symbol of this age.
Every word deceives and flees.
Ashes to ashes and rust to rust.
From a distant glutted sky
Hitler weeps.
5.Music on the radio blares
grinding a metallic symphony,
strings soaring, cellos waving in counterfeit harmony,
drums pounding out another volley and rattle…
This composition falling apart at the seams
once gave beautiful themes,
of mental order and emotion
Decorously wrought.
But no music can echo the pain
When Hitler weeps.
6.The human path is long
a rocky road to hoe.
Alone on a spinning wheel within a wheel.
What dreaming cannot speak
Morning muttering awakes
To understand that this man cries
And know how Hitler weeps.
7.Silence has left her vigil
by steely midnight’s gate…
Hearken now
the silver winged angels wait
at the poet’s oaken door.
Mountains mutter
Oceans roar.
Silence is long enduring
But silence keeps her faith no more.
At first a wisp of metallic mist
Wakening wide,
I am not mistaken
Fifty years have flown
In the homeland,
Now the earth sings a haunting refrain,
Uncontrollably now,
Hitler weeps.
*Prelude *
The final poet
lays the final wreath
upon the final altar
of the final idol
from whose broken side pour grey ashes…
The milky morning flutters overhead
and mingles in the rivers of Babylon.
1.This story cannot end
history neither advances nor falls
with the stroke of a pen,
or the folly of little men;
but writes her lines for the wise
in the dimming tide
when prophets speak and poets sing.
Michel de Nostradame
With beauty and elegant rhyme
Described the suicide of the
“Captain of Greater Germanie”
in a lowly Berlin bunker.
But leagues of prophets
Who mingle futures in their mindseye
scarce foretell
when Hitler weeps.
2. Seven fighter planes prepare for battle
over a winedark sea to distant, desert lands,
Dominoes one by one to fall.
Peacekeepers praise the war to end all wars,
But now I know the present war will never cease
Nor will midnight’s black hand retire nor rest
But the silver angel brings swift news---
Sadam Hussein laughs and laughs
At jokes no one else can share,
As the Fuhrer laughed at Berchtesgarden with Eva Braun.
But now it is all too clear that Hitler weeps.
3.Tears/ mighty beacons of regret
that shine and swell
bespeaking
volumes we cannot tell
like laughter and screaming,
joy over the water.
A metallic sky mists with radiated waste
Children with fresh tongues taste
And shriek the meaning of the many ways we weep.
Sorrow which memory contains
And won’t release
As divinities guard mountain keeps
where eagles peer from craggy peaks.
Will Wotan and Thor release their captive wings to glide?
Time is turning. He has been set free
From the silence of the stony gods
Without reason, without hesitation
Alone in his cave,
Hitler weeps.
4. After 50 years nature is all but forgotten---
Along the swift autobahn
sleek Mercedes shine and roll
reflecting the yellow of the sun
on roads that snake and never seem to end.
Streams mingle with wasting heaps which run
In aqueducts beneath motortrucks.
Dead fish rest with whited bird bones
And rainbow oil streaks
Each a symbol of this age.
Every word deceives and flees.
Ashes to ashes and rust to rust.
From a distant glutted sky
Hitler weeps.
5.Music on the radio blares
grinding a metallic symphony,
strings soaring, cellos waving in counterfeit harmony,
drums pounding out another volley and rattle…
This composition falling apart at the seams
once gave beautiful themes,
of mental order and emotion
Decorously wrought.
But no music can echo the pain
When Hitler weeps.
6.The human path is long
a rocky road to hoe.
Alone on a spinning wheel within a wheel.
What dreaming cannot speak
Morning muttering awakes
To understand that this man cries
And know how Hitler weeps.
7.Silence has left her vigil
by steely midnight’s gate…
Hearken now
the silver winged angels wait
at the poet’s oaken door.
Mountains mutter
Oceans roar.
Silence is long enduring
But silence keeps her faith no more.
At first a wisp of metallic mist
Wakening wide,
I am not mistaken
Fifty years have flown
In the homeland,
Now the earth sings a haunting refrain,
Uncontrollably now,
Hitler weeps.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 30, 2005
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