Late Breaking Chaucerian Update

I am
the childless
father
of two
fine sons.
How is
this possible?
Oh, speak
of the woe
that is
in marriage.
  - mce

Domestic Violence

The hand
of the past
throttles
the throat
of the present:
each day
a new victim.
  - mce

Omen

I found
a bloody
turkey foot
in the dust
along the
creek road
today.

Portent;
portend;
portentous...

The signs
bode ill.
  -mce

Lost Lover

Look in your heart
and you will see
how we both failed
our destiny.
  - mce

Unlikely Girl

When the
fresh green
of spring
sighs;
I recall
the peridot
of your
eyes.
  - mce

A View From The Quarterdeck

Caught in the Circle,
we circumnavigate
the world eternally.

Integration,
disintegration,
reintegration.

Creation,
destruction,
re-creation.

Freedom,
slavery,
liberation.

Cycle upon cycle,
the endless journey
of history.

We can only see
what we can see.

No maps, ever,
only the Periplum
of personality.

No maps, no maps:
only the shore
as known by the sailor
from the sea,

only imagination
to set us free.
  - mce

Hephaestus At His Mac

Fire the oven,
blow the bellows,
hammer the substance,
shape the product.

Oven of experience,
bellows of soul,
hammer of imagination,
life the substance,
poetry the product.

Difficult and dangerous;
exquisite and elegant.

Sweating and smiling,
demented and free,
the word smith works
his Alchemy.
  - mce

For A Friend, Wounded In Battle, 1969

Did you hear
the round
that turned
your world
upside down?
Or was it but
a moment
of pain
and fumbling,
a silent
ecstasy
of tumbling?
Unscathed
myself,
I can
only wonder,
how it feels
to have
your flesh
torn asunder
and then,
how to live
and if
to forgive.
  - mce

A Pirate Ponders...

In the morning,
he consults
the tattered chart
of his broken heart,
considering
which direction
he should start.

At noon he
takes a reading
of the sun
hoping to find
a line to run.

At night,
immersed
in moon glow,
he ponders
which star
to follow.

He knows
he is doomed
to roam;
there is
no course
that leads
to home.

Strangers,
islands,
the open sea,
the only way
for him to be.

Soon,
though when
he cannot say,
he must choose
a bearing
and sail away,
away and away
and away,
into the mystery
of the day:

Alone, outbound,
without a sound,
  - mce

Castaway

Stars of memory
blanket the night,
twinkling madness.
Lethe flows from
whiskey bottles,
seeking the sea.
In the morning,
red sun above
angry swells,
a seared brain
floating in
molten reality,
and waves
that do not cool.
  - mce

Hart Crane Sabbatical

Beneath the deck rail
the dark waves swell.
The temptation to dive in,
nearly overwhelming.
Death sings in the water:
"come to me, come to me,
come to me...
plunge into the silence."
  - mce

Coffee And Whiskey

Light frost on
the morning meadow;
sun kissing
the ridge tops;
another dawn
breaks.
Friends far away;
children gone
for good;
a string of lovers
like broken
promises
stretching into
the past.
Alone with words
and the wind,
the solitary
heart beats.
Steel yourself:
only one life
to live,
and this is it.
  - mce

The Brujo's Tale

Too much
of anything
is bad,
which is
exactly
what makes
it good.
  - mce

Craft

For each poet,
there is but one poem.

It is born with him.

Many versions;
many attempts.

Language is a
soiled deck of cards
passed through
endless hands.

Sleepless nights;
anxious mornings;
eternal days
placing the cards
in new patterns.

Reshuffle the deck
of words and sounds
often as you like.

Patterns emerge;
patterns vanish;
the substance
does not change.

It is only
the terrible doubt
of appearances
makes it seem
otherwise.

For each poet,
there is but one poem.
  - mce

Negative Capability

Do not
describe
the thing,
become
the thing,
and then
tell its story
through
its own
mouth.
That is what
poets do.
 - mce

Cold, Blue Steel Invitation

The Colt .45 automatic
resting on the coffee table
has been broken down,
cleaned, oiled, reassembled.
Beside it lies a fresh clip.

It is a cold, blue, deadly invitation.

And yet, you hesitate to accept.

Outside trees bud, wildflowers bloom,
birds sing and vultures soar.
The breeze whispers: wait awhile,
take a rain check, be patient.

Cowardice or absurd hope?
It doesn't matter, really.
No need to hurry.
The invitation remains open.
  - mce

Another Sprichtwort Bites The Dust

Nope, time does not
heal all wounds,
nor does love, even.
Wounds become flesh,
become scars,
become words,
tell us where
we are,
tell us where
we have been,
tell us where
we will never
be again.
  - mce

Death As Yet Another Self-Help Program

If I died, I would
stop drinking,
quit smoking
and therefore
(according to
the health Nazis)
quite possibly
live forever.
Hmm...
  - mce

Crawling Towards Eternity

Fifty-eight times
I have shed my skin
and may live
to molt another
soon enough.
The Garden
was once mine,
but things changed.
Many times
I have felt
the heel
upon my neck,
but only once
struck back
and was broken
for the sin
of revenge.
Time ignores
individual outbursts
and, anyway,
God forgives idiots
(I hope).
We act and
we act again;
the results
are called life.
This gets weary.
Beware:
I am getting
cranky as I age.
Do not tread
on me again.
  - mce

Easter Song

It is Easter morning.
I want to write
a statement of Joy,
but Joy does not attend.
The only risen thing
is the sun shining down
on another empty day.
Photons that dance,
photons that glisten,
photons that exist
and do not exist,
photons that mean
nothing at all.
  - mce

The Archeology Of Consciousness

Poetry is solely
the archeology
of consciousness,
the pot-shards
of a mind
whose true
experience
can just be
guessed at.
When you read it
you discover
mere pieces,
not the original
arrangement.
You try to wonder
them back
together,
but can't quite.
When you write it,
you leave clues
for scientists
yet to arrive
who will never
fully understand
who you were,
which is OK
because you
never did either.
  - mce

The Poet's Handbook

    - for Rimbaud

The same rules
you lived out
still apply:

Drink too much.
Take drugs.
Sleep with
too many women.
Drink too much.
Be irresponsible.
Squander
your money.
Drink too much.
Hurt those
who love you.
Drive them away.
Drink too much.
Overdose on silence.
Drown in solitude.
Drink too much.
Ignore consequences
Go quite mad.
Drink too much.

And then,
of course,
die.
  - mce

My Totem

A lone vulture
describes a gyre
above my deck.
Vultures are
quite ugly,
close up,
but majestic
as they soar.
This creature
keeps a
tight pattern
not so far
above me.
I drink whiskey,
smoke cigarettes
and observe.
Vultures can
scent carrion
at a vast distance.
Is he inhaling
my mortality?
The wisdom
of wild things,
not to be
disdained.
  - mce

Bravo!

Last evening,
on my deck
at midnight,
in deep frustration,
I howled
my name out loud.
No one heard;
no one cared;
but I like to think
the moon applauded.
  - mce

Homage

She was
the Queen of Spring;
even her softest sighs
could sing.

Daffodils sprouted
from her lips;
Lilacs grew
around her hips.

Tulips blossomed
in her eyes;
Forsythia
bedecked her thighs.

Oh, she really was
the Queen of Spring;
even her softest sighs
did sing.
  - mce

The Why Of The Thing

Poetry is our
futile attempt
to imagine
what we
cannot know.
  - mce

Irony

Even looking
at sixty,
how odd
life can be.
No wife,
no children,
no home,
no country,
no hope,
no fame,
no fortune,
no books
and, yet,
this undeniably
perfect day.
  - mce

Kodak Moment

One day,
I will forget
how your
green eyes
hovered
above me
and your
bright smile
and your hair
upon my face,
but (thankfully)
that day
is not today.
  - mce

Come On, It Can't Be That Difficult

I am seeking
a Mechanic
to mend my heart.
She must be
adept, versatile
and competent.
Hopefully,
she will listen
to Scarlatti
while she works.
She will need
to carefully
disassemble the
damaged vessel
and be able
to reassemble it
whole and intact.
Can't pay much,
but other benefits
are available.
I have tried
Craig's List, Ebay
and the yellow pages.
So far, no luck.
Oh where have all
the Mechanics of Love
disappeared?
Call me,
if you know one.
  - mce

When Next We Meet

 (Author's Note: The first two lines of this poem were used by Diane Wakoski as a prompt for students in her poetry workshops. I couldn't resist the challenge. The result was this poem. - mce)


Next time we meet,
let's keep our clothes on.
Let us observe
the proprieties,
proper and Puritan.
Let us maintain
the distance of fools.
Let us smile
the waxed smiles
of corpses.
Let us pretend
we have never
danced within
one another,
have never sung
unlikely songs
of flesh and desire.
It will be awkwardly
exact and Victorian,
but it will be safe.
No heartbreak will ensue.
Next time we meet,
let's keep our clothes on.
  - mce

The Limits Of Endurance

Each time
his life
crumbled,
he was
pleasantly
surprised
to find
that he
hadn't.
So far.
  - mce

Keep That Safety On

He spoke less than ever
because he knew
his tongue a weapon,
but no longer aimed
to wound or kill.
  - mce

It's The Little Things

Just the memory
of the crook
of your knee
is worth
an entire life
to me.
  - mce

Keeping Up Appearances

He looked like
a soldier of fortune,
but he was really
a soldier of poverty.
  - mce

Bird/Man

Every spring
he took wing
and migrated,
like a confused
waterfowl,
to nowhere.
Same journey;
same destination.
Which way home?
  - mce

Transubstantiation

Taste me, Love,
and I will taste you.
We will call this
communion;
We will call this
resurrection;
we will call this
world without end.
We will make this
all the religion
either of us
can ever need.
Never separate;
never many;
never alone.
One blood,
one body,
one presence:
One, One, One.
  - mce

Hell Is The Place Where No Birds Sing

Too much silence
makes the soul
deaf to life.
Sweet Lady of green
and gentle music,
even the wildflowers
do not speak to me.
Tell me your secret:
when will the birds
of spring sing
in my heart again?
It's birdsong I need;
silence speaks for itself.
  - mce

Cosmic Personal Ad

Man with no future
seeks woman
with no past
for mutual oblivion.
Please send
your qualifications
on a blank post card
addressed to nowhere.
We shall see
how things progress
from there.
  - mce

Drought

Where did you vanish,
lovely Muse?
I miss the caress
of your whispers
in my mind's ears
suggesting order.

Now, although
I listen intently,
the only sounds
are rain on a tin roof,
mice rustling in a corner,
breath and heartbeat
and nothing at all.

When you disappear,
the world becomes
cruel and random
as when a lover
dumps you for
no particular reason,
leaving an incomplete
jumble of pieces
from which you must
puzzle out creation.

Only return, Sweet Muse,
and whisper once more;
you know my heart will listen.

Without you I am only
a deformed lump of clay;
an aging man holding
a losing hand while
Death looks at his cards
and smiles with certainty;
without you the Void
becomes the Abyss;
without you, there is no me.
  - mce

Drumbeats And Bugles

I am at war with time.
At war with. At war.
With time. War. I. Am.
I am at war with time.
Second by second,
I am losing the war.
  - mce

Laotian Rain

The bullets
that missed
were not
his friends.
  - mce

Misapprehension

 (To those concerned: The poet tries to isolate and amplify the dramatic moment. Not every impersonal, third person pronoun {or for that matter, first person pronoun} that you read on this blog refers, exactly, to me. - mce)

Friends told him,
he was drinking
himself to death.
Actually,
he was thinking
himself to death.
  - mce

Re-Reading Nietzsche On A Spring Morning

Eternal
kosmogonos.

Eros breaks
the bonds
of death.

Reason dies
with us.

Love
continues
the dance.
  - mce

Wildflowers

Beer bottles blossom
on my deck railing;
Spring at last!
  - mce

Caritas

What we offer up
freely to death
returns, after great
tribulation, as life.
  - mce

Bad News, Walt Whitman

It is ever more difficult
to sing of One's-Self.
The En-Masse
has swallowed up
the simple separate person;
the Democratic
is dying, if not dead.
The Leaves of Grass
now all look the same,
chant the same slogans,
believe and buy
what they are told
to believe and buy.
The power, pulse
and passion of Life
are subsumed
in blind conformity.
You said a man should,
"Resist much; obey little."
How many, in all this land,
now have the courage
to live those words?
That vast American energy
you rightly celebrated
is channeled now
to serve war and greed
and evil usury.
You would find little
in the current version
of The Modern Man
worth singing about;
little worth the immensity
of your vision and voice.
If you could return now
and chance to see
the empty, constricted husk
your country has become,
I wonder how Cheerful
your song would be.
  - mce

Political Aside

When you have to
pass a drug test
and a background check
to shovel mulch
on some rich dude's
sorry-assed shrubs
for seven dollars
and fifty cents an hour,
the very notion
of freedom
becomes a farce.
  - mce

A Foot Race

Drink kills;
tobacco kills;
but loneliness kills
much faster.
  - mce

A Sign Of Spring?

Splitting already
split wood to make
smaller splits
for smaller fires.
  - mce

Catch And Release

Reading over
two years
of poems,
more than
eight hundred
altogether,
I find
perhaps forty
that may be
worth saving.

Five percent.

So many casts
for so few fish.
  - mce

And Yet, They Are Pretty

The colorful prayer flags
on my deck railing
flutter out their
pointless supplications.
You live out the Dharma
as best you can,
always and forever alone.
No help is on the way.
   - mce

On Teaching

The same old shit endlessly:

grade grubbing students;
career obsessed colleagues;
pettifogging administrators.

And what is the net result?

More androids to fill the desks
of demon corporations
and faceless systems.

I have become
just another Eichmann
following orders;
just another Himmler
stuffing the ovens
of the Death Machine.

Noblest profession, my ass.

The greatest regret
of my life:
that I never learned
an honest trade.
  - mce

Anxiety Attack

Can't seem
to catch my breath.
Afraid I will die;
afraid I won't die.
I've forgotten;
what's the difference?
  - mce

On Sobriety

Drunk, the world is
warm Technicolor curves;
sober, cold monochrome angles.
A week without whiskey,
bumping into sharp edges,
life becomes a bloody mess
of open, dripping wounds.
Bacchus, Dionysus,
quick... bring the first aid kit!
  - mce

Stockholm Syndrome

Kidnapped by the muse,
I am held hostage
by poverty and beauty:
most ambivalent captivity.
  - mce

One Year In A Cabin

I have come to dread
what others think romantic:
rain on a tin roof.
  - mce

Vernal Equinox

Damn!
I made it
again.
  - mce

Vanity

The man
who has been
a coward once
disdains the man
who has been
a coward twice.
  - mce

Elegant Solution

Become the knot,
then untie yourself.
  - mce

Loneliness At Evening

Sing to me, Night,
and I will try
to sing back to you.
Together, we will
raise a duet
of desire and delight.
What more, really,
can we do?
  - mce

Down The Road

Souls that have kissed
cannot be separated.
This life or the next;
time after time;
everything turns
and returns.
When we meet again,
I will know you.
  - mce

Soft Water, White Magick

No man whose heart has
awakened to the murmur
of creek water flowing
near his cabin window
can ever utterly despair again.
  - mce

Why I Rarely Write Prose

Poets dance,
but the times
call the tune.
The short line
must suffice
when the mass
of readers
mostly cannot
remember
anything more
valuable
than how much
money
they made
last year.
 - mce

Old Friends

While the metaphorical mailman is on leave, please feel free to visit any of my previous blogs. These were written over the last two years and, of course, present different pictures of what was happening over that period. Some of it is embarrassing, but that's just in the game. Being a writer is much like one of those dreams in which you find yourself naked in front of a whole bunch of people.

The original was called Struggle Mountain.

The ensuing efforts were Instances, Step/Rock Journal and Creek Watcher.

My personal favorite is Instances, but then, what do I know?

There might be some things worth revisiting on these. Or not.

When I have at least twenty new items, I'll begin to post to this blog again. Could take days; could take longer. You'll know when I know.

Mike

Occupational Hazard

Sometimes words
cease to be a joy
and become a burden.
Sometimes you
must set them down
and take a rest.
The poet is a mailman
lugging a load of life,
carrying bundles
that most people
don't even want
to think about:
heavy thoughts
on weighty subjects.
Occasionally, even a
metaphorical mailman
needs a holiday.
  - mce

Erato

Where have you fled,
green-eyed goddess
of the singing lyre?
When I listen now,
all I hear are echoes.
  - mce

Poetry Vs. Reality

I love
the way
zounds
rhymes with
hounds.
Sadly,
it is not
the sixteenth
century,
and I don't
own dogs.
  - mce

A Needy Poem

I need
money;
I need
a car;
I need
a dentist;
I need
a square
meal;
I need
my kids;
I need
a muse;
I need
true love;
I need
beauty;
I need
truth;
I need
wild
flowers;
I need
spring;
I need
a break.
Mostly,
I need
to stop
being so
needy.
  - mce

Lost Warmth

When you left
you took the sun
with you;
now the moon
rules me.
I wax and wane
and sometimes
vanish altogether.
Where do I go
when I disappear?
To seek the sun,
of course.
  - mce

Limitation

At the heart,
we can speak
through art;
but at the bone,
we remain
alone.
  - mce

Time and Distance

They work.
But the results
are not always
what you might
expect.
At best, they are
a mirror in which
we see our own
reflections.
They reveal,
but do not alter.
Days and miles
(alone)
cannot change
who we are.
  - mce

Who Knew?

Sometimes,
I miss the lies
that couples say
to help each other
through the day.
  - mce

Mortal Question

Death murmurs in the
sodden branches of the trees:
whom is it calling?
  - mce

Premonition

Increasingly,
I hear music
you can't find
on earth.
   - mce

Everything I've Learned About Myself To Date

I'm probably ten percent
too damned dumb,
and stubborn,
to save my own hide.
  - mce

Art Lesson

The very young
like to believe
they will paint
their own lives.
To some degree
this is true,
but many hands
touch the brush.
  - mce

The Necessity Of Hope

If it dies,
the Heart
goes with it.
  - mce

En Garde

Beware the fatal moment
when you no longer
choose your actions;
when they seize control
and choose you.
Call it madness
or call it inevitable:
great disaster will ensue.
  - mce

Palette

On this
particularly gray
morning,
it brings
great comfort
to recall
the many
colors
of dreams.
  - mce

A Gardening Tip

   - for SJH

Even when most frozen,
the soil of the heart
contains the possibilities
of fresh and better life.
Water it; tend it; nurture it.
Wait for the warmth to return.
Many flowers wait to blossom.
New bouquets for new days.
  - mce

The Allure Of Sleep

Only
in dreams
does life
cohere.
  -mce

Synesthesia

Once, I knew
a woman so
utterly lovely
that her laughter
was the sound
of buds bursting,
of flowers blooming.
That was years ago,
but whenever
I encounter a freshly
opened blossom,
I still see that sound.
 - mce

Metanoia

I spent most of my life as a self-obsessed, angry asshole. The reasons why no longer matter. Though hard on those I loved, it was even harder on me. Now, although still self-obsessed (I might soften that to self-conscious), the anger has dwindled and I try very hard not to be an asshole. Given the painful vicissitudes of life, you can call that what you like, but I call it progress.
  - mce

Morning Epiphany

Looking at my hands,
I can't quite
recognize them.
  - mce

The Grand Canyon Of Loss

Not enough
whiskey
in the whole
wide world
to refill it.
  - mce

The Reluctant Initiate Rebels

For reasons
unknown to me,
I have been
required
to endure
endless,
elaborate
symphonies
of silence.
Perhaps
I was meant
to learn
something
from it.
Well, I haven't.
Enough now.
A little noise,
please.
  - mce

Axis Mundi

Yesterday, first
Indigo Bunting;
this morning,
no need for a fire.
Everything turns,
except me.
  - mce

Saudade

The living boy
who grew six inches
in a single year
becomes more difficult
to see or hear,
has faded now
to random dreams,
life is not so solid
as it seems.
  - mce

How To Become A Poet

Gaze long enough
at the lonely moon
and you too
will begin to howl.
  - mce

It's Getting Late

The passage of the years
constrains possibility;
calendars squeeze life.
Now I know there are
poems I won't read again;
books I won't open again;
places I'll not visit again;
people I won't see again;
lips I'll never kiss again.
Age narrows time.
Approaching sixty,
everywhere around me,
the sound of closing doors.
  - mce

First Shoots

Beneath old leaves
on the cold ground,
they stir and move
without a sound;
life, new and green
and faintly glowing,
toward the sunlight
gently growing.
  - mce

Thankfully, It's Too Late For Investment Banking...

OK, if there is
no other way
to be;
Argh, Matey,
the pirate's life
for me.
  - mce

Parzival Redux

Five years
in the Dark Wood
wandering, lost,
seeking the Vessel
that must not
be sought,
the Drink
that might quench
his relentless,
burning thirst.
No choice given;
the wyrd will out.
Is this a Noble Quest
or a fool's errand
or perhaps both?
In any case,
he hopes to be
fully fool enough
for the job.
  - mce

Laetitia

He loved a woman:
her eyes were green,
her soul was sweet.
She left him then,
and now his heart
just beats retreat.
 - mce

A Sure Sign Of Aging

Each morning,
it takes longer
and longer
to return from
the Ghost World.
  - mce

Just A Minute

Anyone can
be a saint
for five minutes;
it's minute six
that tells the tale.
  - mce

Alas, Poetry...

A pleasant
enough way
to start the day,
but (sadly)
it cures no ills
and pays no bills.
  - mce

Versus Amor

It will happen
in the moment
when I meet
my shadow,
or not at all.
  - mce

Monsters In The Attic

Time does not erase
nor can it heal,
it dulls, like whiskey,
the edge of real
sins and griefs,
but they remain,
living souvenirs
of our human pain.
Try as we must
to drive away
the debts of hurt
and not to pay
any attention
to the lingering woe
of scars incurred
in the long ago,
the best we can do,
with a brave face,
is bind them tight
in a secret place,
in a shabby box
that sits apart,
in the dusty attic
of our mortal heart.
  - mce

A Short How And Why

The essence
of the poem
in the poet's heart:
a long, soundless
wailing
that won't stop
until spoken.
  - mce