When Darkness Comes (Daylight): Poem 3


Daylight friezes trim heights,

Stony edifices still standing

Ancient decaying battles,

Fading listless gray above

Technicolor tile mosaics.
 

When darkness comes daylight
 

Photoshopped to his taste,

Scrumptiously thin-thin waifs

Adorn full fashion billboards,

Eye-catching corners round

Apartment ledge jumpers.
 

When darkness comes daylight
 

Poised for the leap, these

Downers decorate the city

Like gargoyle guardians,

Villains to pop protagonists

Puffing smokey smile rings.
 

When darkness comes daylight
 

When sirens slice vulnerable

Sleep like death opened out,

Who can hear the whispers,

Tunneled mice scampering,

Twisting babies suffocating?
 

When darkness comes daylight
 

In frozen wincing skies hidden

Behind baby blue blinds drawn

The day’s delusional dreaming,

But when the darkness comes 

Noble neon lights us illuminate:
 

When darkness seizes day’s night

In-Sight


I’ve always been a little far sighted.

I can’t read what’s right in my face

And I can’t face intensely close faces.

It hurts my orientation, my spatiality,

Or maybe it’s intimacy I can’t face,

But I’ve the knack for planning ahead

Far into the future or two moves up.

My sight extends far into the un-here.

Though now, in the waning years, or

Maybe waxing, that is, expanding, my

Sight is delimited, far-sighted and 

Near too, somewhere between; really

Not the middle, mean, or average, how

Ever you measure space-time continu-

Um, more like focal clarity of one layer

While the rest blurs snowy opaque and

Blue in relief like sky, sadness or pearls.

I’ve trimmed off layers to the one visible,

My reality carved from seeds and history.

How the rain obscures sight I don’t know,

But I can see clearly how blindness grows.

Deny Me to the Moon

  
An exile of his own skin, he dances around himself

like a forgotten memory, webby-silk and opalesque.

Missing at the core he is, out and outwardly leaning,

seeking last letter spaces, the crossword’s final clue,

bluntly obvious solutions, words clearly spelled out,

none save himself a riddle, yet unanswered to mind.

Self-realized men confess, embrace inherited power,

weakness staring truths, scorched in skin worn open.

Banned men envision, only scoff-turned accusations,

toss blocked revelation, obstructing responsible claim

in twisted other-outerness, blaming all not one source

he who self-circles doubt, brandishing blind knife ego

’til none know his name, only echoes like tinnitis ears,

trace stirrings in songs, a residue of teflon-tinged taste

on tongues never spoken, refusal in face of god’s moon.      

Human Nation

image

And the candidates lie while voters 

bathe in the light of soft memes

soaking themselves in pretty phrases

paired to poignant images sweet-wise,

and little girls in red, white and blue 

sequinned skirts twirl dizzyingly

mesmerizing masses of twit-whistlers

horning in on patriotic fear fervor

chords dancing adorable waifs a’spin.

Aren’t we all takers in the end,

sucking what we can get off and in

ourselves confined and conformed

to social patterns, strong-armed

cycles: do this or be stigmatized?

And so the world is just the world.

Life is just life, nothing more–

or less.