all poems are copyright by me
From the
other side of the room, I notice you
Through the knots of people
your smile
and a brief glance
Sends me soaring.
Scared to approach you
But too scared not to,
Unwilling to relinquish
this moment to failure.
Slowly and unsurely I weave
among the crowd
Subconciously placing my
feet in time to the music,
And suddenly I don't seem
to hear it anymore
Just the voices in my head,
ceaselessly questioning
"What if...?"
"She could say
no..."
"What do you think
you're doing?..."
But I can't hear them
anymore either.
And as I finally approach
you
You move a little closer
Flash me that smile again
A gift you've not given
anyone else
And it sends me soaring.
He lights
the candle before him
and sprinkles sea salt into
the flame.
Nothing looks different,
yet he can feel the change beginning.
With the candle, he lights
the small brazier,
and the room fills with the
subtle odor,
the blue light from the
brazier casting wild shadows on the walls.
He places the candle at the
north point of the circle, and sits before the brazier.
His hair is still damp, but
he is clean.
He lowers his head, stray
strands of hair falling before his face,
and he begins.
He is deliberately slower
than he needs to be,
taking as much time as he
can in the relaxing of every part of his body
from his toes up to his
scalp,
and repeating the process
several times
each time opening his mind,
his center, more and more
to the energy around and
within him.
He can feel his skin begin
to tingle,
face still lowered, he
can't see the flame growing within the small brazier,
but he can feel it
changing.
His center is opening,
wider and wider, and he begins seeking
another
very slowly, very
gradually,
inch
by
inch
without moving from his
seated position
seeking,
almost agonizingly slowly,
mind
by
mind
He looks at each one, not
knowing what to look for,
but knowing that he will be
sure when he finds it,
drifting over many
different energies,
flash
It's like looking in a
mirror,
and there is no doubt in
his mind.
His eyes snap open, and the
flame in the brazier is
orange
blue
red
violet
He begins to focus his will
on the new-found mind,
still open, and beckoning,
as he watches the flame in
the brazier grow smaller and smaller
as he draws on the flame's
energy
and putting up a violent
fight as it dies down.
He tosses a handful of some
powder into the brazier,
and the flame sparks anew
momentarily.
After what seems like
hours,
and has probably been much
longer,
the flame begins to steady
itself,
and he feels it approach
the soft pad pad pad pad of
small paws
or perhaps the quiet
rustling of wings in the still night air
he will know soon enough
of his new companion.
Eyes lose
sight as the room grows dim
Metal, reflections off
chrome
Scraping, grinding, teeth
and gears
Climbing to a deafening
height
Piercing
Numbing
Gouging into the center,
twisting inside
Spreading the noise within
Rusting
Tearing of iron and rust as
the gears spin faster
Bits of metal being flung
like shrapnel
Infecting everything
I have my
table, now I wait
someone spilled pop on the
menu
sticky?
My vision is bombarded with
all manner of
catchy slogans
and trademarks
none of which I would dare
repeat out of
fear of litigation
There are spies everywhere
working for
Pepsico International
just waiting for someone to
slip up
I make a not-so-funny
remark about
Taco Bell or something
next thing I know my brakes
mysteriously go out
on the middle of I-696 at
70 miles an hour
Gotta be careful these days
Don't piss people off.
A guy just left here
wearing those colorful pants they sell at
Gold's Gym and places like
that
an ex of mine used to call
them
"clown pants"
There are hardly any people
in here
which is fine with me
I can eat my Pizza Hut
garlic bread
(patent number 4,100,772)
in relative peace and
quiet.
Apparently,
this particular patent does
not include
much of the garlic
mentioned in the name
"garlic bread"
perhaps it's some sort of
garlic-soy substitute
the world may never know.
My personal pan pizza has
arrived
(another trademark)
and the place is starting
to fill up now.
No one terribly
interesting-looking,
although I think I'm in
love with my server
Laura.
I can tell by the way she
signed her name on the bill
that she's different
and she knows I am,
too.
She's above all this petty,
international corporate
hooey
I can tell she doesn't
really want to be here
she probably just putting
herself through school
she's afraid to tell her
parents about what she's doing
for fear of bringing shame
to the family name.
I should leave her a nice
tip
She'll know what I really
mean by it
and she'll probably come up
to me as I leave
and give me her phone
number.
Well, that was tasty.
Guess I'd better leave
before they
scold me for taking up the
booth
Maybe I'll stop at Denny's
on the way home for some ice cream
I think I'm in love with
their cashier
I can tell by the way she
rings me up
that it's more than
just a
cashier-customer
relationship
She's different
and she knows I am, too.
I'm looking
at my watch, but the numbers don't make sense
The evening news is on, but
the anchors aren't talking
His mouth is open and there
is some kind of
sound coming out
that doesn't register in my
head
His tie is straight
The wardrobe staff did a
wonderful job
picking out his suit for
him
Now he sits there
picking out my news for me.
There's a picture of a
plane crash in the background
There's the weather map
There's a reporter at an
accident scene
Why aren't they talking
about that guy I work with
who got arrested at work
today?
Why aren't there any
pictures of my car
when someone broke into it
and smashed all the
windows?
No one is talking about the
sixty-six satellites
in low-earth-orbit
beaming signals close to
microwave frequency
all over the world.
Why don't they have someone
talking about
the effects of
high-frequency signals
on the human body?
Gamma waves are what turned
Doctor Banner into
the Incredible Hulk.
And I never see any
pictures of
Bill Gates' daughter
No one seems to wonder if
he's raising her
to be a corporate raider
when she grows up
"daddy's little
monopolizer".
The metaphorical Mom and
Pop
are being swallowed up
by Coca-Cola
Viacom
Microsoft
McDonald's
It's all about dollar-votes
and word-of-mouth
because I'm not going to
learn anything
important from plane
crashes
and insider-trading
and the Dow Jones
Industrial Average
High-level executives are
buying
these phones all over the
world
a portable high-frequency
transmitter
less than two inches from
their brain-pan
slowly reprogramming these
corporate giants
like nudging a spinning
top.
It deviates from its path,
but pretty soon it just
wobbles out of control
and ends up blowing up a
gas station somewhere.
ice cream
vowels
ring against velvet iron
melting bitter
salt and crushed ice
pleated
bound in a loose knot
sunshine cords
wrapping about throat
a brush and a
lingering glance
taste left in cotton
veiled
and submerged
delicate bubbles
pierced by naked air
releasing restrained pleas
tightly wound
gripping white knuckle
crack
neon sliver buried in cruel
words
flexed slowly
to strenuous tension
a stolen glance
and choke
turns to stare
pockets of pin-prick
swallowed
like plastic-coated
sentiment
homeless
and wood-stained
condensation falls off a
shingle
followed by broken hanging
ice
condemned and prepared to
serve
condiments
garnish
a quick slice
and a grimace
hand-to-mouth
stifling a yawn
glint of mirror-flat
reflection
blinds with a tint
and a hint of
black-and-white
snow and static
without focus
through a cyclops eye
a wink and a
long stride
in sole-less shoes
skin exposed to the sharp
gravel and
harsh applause
clattering
clamoring
straw wrapped in soggy
paper
open-minded zen meditative
state
needle sinks into skin made
of cork
painted like lines on
pavement
suggesting vacant
destinations
a pressed palm
and turning on a heel
for an easy exit
through a door of
ridged silver and
highly polished copper
flaring inward with a
quick match-strike
ignition light
wrapped around a smile
behind
chemical spite
wide-eyed honest
anxious surprise
unexpected chattering
consent
walking barefoot through
finest grains of sand
no stone larger than
ice left melting in coffee
a breeze and a
careful sip
and a drop
symmetrically spatters
against cracked leather
boot
like grease from a skillet
heating skin and singeing
hair
a wince and a
reflexive spasm
as limb is drawn away from
stimulus
action and
re-creation
a dagger of polished
Pavlovian response
rusty, jagged
bell-ring-drool-thought
protective lamination
is peeled away
with sound of skin tearing
to slow realization dawning
in some recessed corner of
id or super-ego
recalling fragmented
memories
of distant
train-whistle-fade
shrill school bell
pre-adolescent taunts
sunlight glinting off
microscopic crumbled snow flecks
frigid spears of
winder fear
a slip and a
slow-motion fall
jarred back to repetitive
click, wind, stop-click
flash of blinding shutter
eye
stops a clock in stark
f-stop fluid twisting spark
embers smoking
warm red sensual heat
drifting off in lazy
swirling patterns
flowing over syllables with
molten simplicity
lulling to drowsy
half-closed sight
white, bone stripped clean
a twist and a
brittle snap
sends grasping fingers of
sensation
through finest silk and
smoothest skin
multi-colored checked
paisley flannel neopolitan
delicate quills tickle
to burning trill of
electronic telephone chirp
poking sleeping brain for
undeserved attention
thin veins like lattice
across the surface
like a leaf pressed in
classic literature
inhaling dark perfume
snaking curly odd numbers
from
a monk's censer
wraiths of vague theorems
angles circumscribing
varied
Pythagorean planes
spinning propellers
wide fat nylon mushrooms
latitude and compass fade
knot by knot
bright stars above in eager
conversation
glittering constellation
gossip
arcing through the nebulae
of mystic chanting
almost-dance
song purring feline content