Monday, January 31, 2011

I Am Struck

by Your Bullet

Oh     God

The    Self

(only its entirety)

blown out

You put me
at    stake
shooting out my heart
I    Am
your keen separation
oh God
I Am    afraid

(of the black hole in my gullet, dark matters
of incoherent lust. it is your    Love that drives me
to a sacrifice incomprehensible, like the spaces
between my teeth, or a second wind,
I Am Suffering)

when putting

Your    Word

on trial

You are cold steel in my mouth

oh    God

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

When Writing to Strangers

when writing to strangers,
I like to include my second name: Lorraine
which is a region of France
but even more importantly, contains that word: rain
secondly, I would include
my nickname: T
because you can start any word with T
my father's name was Theodore Wilson Shreffler the Third
I consider Three to be
part of my heritage
Three eggs in my breakfast burrito
Three tries for my driver's license
Three eulogies by Twenty-One
which you can divide by Three
and get my lucky number: Seven
my mother's name, which I don't remember
started with an S, like Storm
or September
or Spitting Image
they could have named me after her
but instead, I took after my father
who named me anyway
lastly, when writing to strangers
I would say my chosen name: Terra Firma
because Terra sounds like Theresa
and I am a piece of solid land
in the midst of Lorraine and Storm
Did she walk far enough?

perhaps farther

Did she stop to look

down the road

at distant burrows

she might find

the various ins and outs

many other ways

acorns under rocks

to teach the trees to grow

she hoped to find

Did she walk far enough?

already, a windblown leaf

an empty river

pulling on her sleave

leading down, down

Thursday, January 6, 2011

like a tattered rag, I shake it roundly
until unsatisfied, I drop the remains
and sit baldly, contemplating the heavy weave
until I might lift it to shake egain. Chewing consistantly
I have made no more progress on knowing answers
by seeking answers; perhaps I am on a better quest
for questions that might explain the unrest
of my tempered thoughts, which flip up and down
like a great switch, and when illuminated, seem
like a willful string untied.