Taillights gather up ahead
and glitter in the brittle
black of another holiday
passed by. We are derelict,
driving to our homes, to
our beds; betrayed in our
appetites, we scratch our
necks, massage the temples,
our headaches landing like
piled notes in a Handel
choir. We pull forward,
inch closer to sleep,
comfortable that time
is not a fallacy, that there
will be morning again—
the carriage and canter
of another chance. We
are given the green, move
from brake to gas pedal,
hear a siren wail some-
where across town. Wait.
– Timothy Juhl…
...continue reading
When your own space rejects you
the walls creep in when you least expect it.
The clock sneers
And holds her breath like one of those bitch-ass girls
from school who scorn you.
The kaleidoscope of abandoned shirts, socks, pants,
empty cans, books and DVD’s
that frame you
all of sudden look impeccably dressed beneath all the dustballs
and whisper, as though you hadn’t cleaned some cat vomit
off of them a day or two ago.
You attempt to take possession
of the room
After all, you own all this damn crap
that now berates you …
...continue reading
In Kilburn I walked down the street.
What you did! What you said!
Thumb-tack through a billet-doux —
that note on your door made an end!
And more than that — no more amor.
Too much wish made too much whim,
my theory of love’s mistake. So:
at last you upped and went.
Again I see my smiling snap
you’d hidden on the sly.
Jumping Jack, I’d hopped all your hints,
till: “I love you — goodbye!”
oOo
– Gerald Solomon…
...continue reading
She was the prettiest girl you ever loved, but she tortured you like the Inquisition. She’d bawl that she loved you one minute, flirt with your friends the next. Every few weeks you’d break it off, for good this time, until she scratched at your apartment door to toy with your heart like a cat with a captured mouse. She would disappear in the morning, and you limped off to work that day with your throat talked raw and your heart wrung dry and your stomach tied up in knots. And you’d count the minutes until you saw her again.
So you leave town, for a good job and a fresh start. You meet a better girl, a nicer one, who moves without complaint through your transfers and promotions.…
...continue reading
For Linda, on her 27th Birthday
I
She uncoils wind in its slender
sinews
both surface and depth
and my uncurling bones,
it names this mystery,
its softening, like a sad evening
shunted between doors.
She unrolls in my rippling muscle
such tenseness unknotting time,
a loud noise in a shock of being.
My prick erects in this toppling universe,
and all our hearts
like coins
in a box
like a mirror in all necessity,
my miraculous us! …
...continue reading
For a moment
Frozen at the window
A peaceful vision glorifies
The placid tree thrusts into
Our luminous sky.
Letting go in death
A dull gold leaf
Dancing slowly
To its grave of memories.
– Carl Scharwath…
...continue reading
Art Lesson
You take a step into the Chinese scroll
That used to be San Francisco. A gray
Wall over a grayer bay and some small holes
Punched by bridges, barges, hints of mountain
Or hill, prison to your right as views unroll,
A little worn at the curled edges. Stray
Ribbons of fog float through clouds. It’s not cold—
It should be—but when surprise runoffs drain
From roofs, you shiver. You seek a dry way
To climb down this slope, enter the picture,
But give up. Damp shoes are the price you pay
To beauty. Someone is out there, you’re sure—
No dark beauty out of movies—no, it’s
A missed dream tugging at you. Or you read
Something once—three old men, a cat, some mist,
Maybe cranes or swans.…
...continue reading