February 05, 2007
morven wood inn
blame it on the moon
blame it on the sun
blame it on the stars
blame it on the mighty one
blame it on the birds
blame it on the bees
blame it on the snake
blame it on me
when your heart
feels more like a hearse
blame it on me
took you down the river
from something bad
to something so much worse
blame it on the wind
blame it on the rain
blame it on the earth
blame it on the flame
blame it on the sky
blame it on the sea
blame it on cain
you can blame it all on me
Posted by matthew at 08:46 AM | Comments (0)
January 03, 2007
full moon dreaming
the door of a mercury
comet
shot through with a constellation
of bullet holes
driver's side door
driver's side door
a white sheet on a line
flapping
the torn hem of a drunken dancer
's skirt twisting
's skirt twisting
that silver ring, the first one
gone, not the other one.
the second one not yet come
not yet
and the starlight shines through the rings of saturn
through the comet's tails
through the mad red eye
and that man's final breath departs
through a trapdoor
without a shout
without a wheeze
without a whisper
quiet like a camel
like a smoke
and every second you've waited for this moment
i've waited too, just the same
Posted by matthew at 10:04 PM | Comments (2)
October 03, 2006
flame
a flame touches the tip of the rope
tibetian rope
the fire leaps from match to rope
scented rope
bright it burns, bright as hope
rope and fire as one
then wanes the flame
an ember now the tip of rope
from the twists of rope
a sweet tang dances
freed by the hunger of the flame
the smoke endures forever
a memory of the burning
ever in the air
unbound from binding rope
by flameforever fire is the same
and flame forever fitfultime can never touch the smoke
nor fire taint the scenttwo strands of rope we were
two strands burned as one and now
our scent is liberated
to saturate and sweeten
all that can be named
Posted by matthew at 09:08 AM | Comments (1)
May 22, 2006
lily white
do you have word or a gesture or nothing
do you have a thought I can use?
what do you got for the blues?
Posted by matthew at 10:36 PM | Comments (5)
October 18, 2005
the war god
mars is close tonight
mars is on the loose
i saw a woman with a tripod
set up at the edge of a crater
she was taking a photograph
or fifty three
mars was unhappy with her
called her a planet paparazzi
but his powers ain't what they used to be
mars has waned
and the wax is off him now
she stood straight up tall
concentrating
making adjustments
her feet were planted firmly
and her movements
betrayed the joy within her
the joy she felt
capturing the god of war
in her little camera
Posted by matthew at 10:50 PM | Comments (3)
October 15, 2005
cowpoke
his eyes glitter
and his hand shakes ever so little
the index finger chapped and nut brown
on the trigger
pauses
then squeezes
after a long moment
the horse
twitches and goes still
eyes wide
three legs stretched straight
one folded in an L
the bone sticking out through the skin
he puts his gun away
he shoulders the saddle
then he studies the brand on his horse
one last time
then begins to walk
away from the sunset
one bullet less in the chamber of his Colt
one bullet more in the chamber of his colt
Posted by matthew at 03:20 AM | Comments (1)
October 05, 2005
the rain on the moon
the rain on the moon falls so slowly
and the snow never falls it just swirls
and the wind on the moon is a zephyr
and the mist on the moon
the mist on the moon
the mist on the moon is like liquor
intoxicating poison
Posted by matthew at 02:59 PM | Comments (1)
October 04, 2005
query
...looks like the wingman stayed over last night. the locks on the doors don't work -- I don't even have the keys.. there was a note on the coffee table this morning...
she said she's back but she ain't backshe's in another time zone
she's on another planet
there's a tornado chasin' her sweet ass
stirrin up trouble
stirrin up stirrinshe said she's back
but if she was
i could squeeze her
i could feel the heat in her
stirrin up trouble
stirrin up stirrinshe ain't back
i can't reach her
my arms ain't spaghetti
six hundred and ninety five miles long
she ain't
there was a note clipped to the wingman's crypticism, it said, "Wingman, we love your name but not your poetry. Best to you, Bibi Rebozo.
the wingman had written underneath the signature, Bibi Rebozo??? that's a name??
ps My plane got shot up pretty bad yesterday, I'll be away for a while.
there's music on, but it's the new moon and you can't really hear it right now, sound travels better through water, it seems. It's drowning, but a different kind of drowning, I think, this music.
who do you call when there's no one to call?
Posted by matthew at 09:18 PM
September 27, 2005
tears
what are these things?
eve asked adam
coming from your eyes?
they look like water
she said
i don't know
said adam blinking
they don't taste like water
and it feels like my eyes are burning.
then eve said to him
look
they are coming out of my eyes too
Posted by matthew at 12:05 AM | Comments (4)
August 30, 2005
pome
Posted by matthew at 06:03 PM | Comments (3)
No Sultan
Sparky pulled this one out of the archives as well... he said it explains what it's like when someone is at the top of the roller coaster, if you know what I'm saying... actually it's kind of like the reflection of the shadow of the echo of that feeling, but, as they say, whatever...
No sultan
who ever sat on tufted silk
Or maharajah
who palace ever built
No king or queen or emperor
or returning commodore
his fleet awash with pirate's plunder
ever knew such wealth
ever knew such wonder
or tasted sweeter milk.
No armada made with human hands
or spawn of Satan's darkest pit
No horde of bare barbarians
No formation,
No monochrome array,
No squad or stealthy team, or thief
equipped with lethal kit,
could ever knife or steal or take
this bliss.
No brazen vessel ever forged
or vessel thrown, or carved of stone
No lake, no gulf or sea,
No Atlantic,
No Pacific
can contain the overflow
of the joy
that today
is filling me.
Posted by matthew at 05:10 PM | Comments (0)
Watershed
Like drops of rain
falling on the hot hard rock near Big Owl Creek
running down over the dampening soil
joining their brothers
joining their sisters
caressing the landscape
as they trace the earth’s form
flowing on, stream to creek, creek to river
and always running plunging on
to the Ohio or the Missouri
thundering down the Mississippi
and always always always
swirling to the Gulf of Mexico,
all my thoughts run to you.
Posted by matthew at 02:49 PM | Comments (1)
July 11, 2005
timeline
if time is like a string
can it be knotted?
if time is like a blanket
can it be folded?
if time is like the surface of a bottle
can you turn it inside out?
if you were asked tomorrow
what the future holds today
would you know how to answer
from the isle of yesterday?
if you knew tomorrow's weather
if you knew the setting sun
would that knowledge bring you joy or sorrow
could it comfort anyone?
could you reach back to yesterday
or even a minute ago
would you care to change it any way
or would you let it go?
if your memory worked backwards
could you tell the truth
on the threshold of tomorrow
ten feet tall and bulletproof?
she told me she stood in beauty
she said she was content
not to change one iota
of the things that came and went
and i asked her to repeat it
i wasn't sure i understood
she whispered hush now darling
if i could i would
time is a unversal fiction
time is an urban myth
time is a contradiction
an or instead of with
does cause lead to effect i wonder
or does effect demand a cause?
does every over need an under?
does the perfect require flaws?
is there a day without a dark night?
what is speed without a pause?
is there a wrong without a right
or a why without because?
a circle is the model
i would choose if such a choice were mine
me and quetzacoatl
would knot the string
and fold the blanket
inside-out the bottle
on the radiius of time
Posted by matthew at 01:02 AM | Comments (0)