Year's End

I start with a lie. That's too strong. A falsehood. How about a miscalculation? The year has not ended. That's a fact. We are not at year's end, not fully, not yet, not now. I start with the half life of a half truth. I start with a start, a stutter start. I stutter my strut of a start because I have nothing to say, nothing to say except to lament the rubble and ruins, the strewn limbs and blood rivers of Putin's nightmare backward lurch into history. To think that World War Two was over? And to honor, I can't find proper synonyms, the bravery, heroism, patriotism, valor of Ukraine, its people amidst the smoldering slaughter, that mother on a gurney outside the bombed maternity ward they later said she and the baby died, that image to remember, like the silent scream freeze-frame shot to the head in Saigon, or the white man brandishing the US flag against the restrained black man, the soiling of old glory, Stanley Forman, and so on, ad nauseam, till death do us unite. Even before year's end I want to flip the calendar, turn the page, close the books, hurry before there's more, hurry up, there's time, and that's both horrifying and hopeful is it not.

rearview solstice

they said it was the shortest day not a D-Day but a December diurnal one a solstice they said something about the sun earth nexus something about the failing light flailing to find itself on the upswing stretching out the light the definition of day and now I am flailing to see that in my February-drenched rearview mirror the one with the solstice memory the one with the solstice promise winking at me the driver me the one masquerading as something someone whose name escapes me

Pittsfield aria to myself on a Saturday afternoon

along North Street cascading light its vestiges fading eagle head of my cane poised against the mailbox eagle The Eagle a building posing opiod optics no one seen no one heard vacant lot the tottering totem swaying was that a needle in her hand a long train a-comin' a tall train a-goin' I went down to the station walked The Common the old high school how about that gazebo mother father child reunion flag-draped baby Lake Pond Silver streets Bank Row alley in the shadow Crawford Square the Marketplace wear your mask I'm masked and anonymous why aren't you where was Melville when he wrote Moby Dick here Lolita by the pool her back to me unknown unbeknownst to one and all hibiscus hideaway the tenement testament still standing for all to see beware of the dog private property keep out or is it keep in I can't tell anymore can you

echo chamber

Say it again. And again n n n n . Re-re-re-re-reverb erb erb erb. Anyone here? Anyone hear? Echo and Narcissus. Waves. Repercussions. Re-echo. sierra echo x-ray. A room of one's own. Cathedral choral. Chamber music. Sacred sound. Ordinary space. Ordinary sound. Rippling. Less less less less less gone. Repeat beat. Narcissus and Echo. Solo. Vox. Voice. Void. Hollow. Hallow. Hollow. Hallow. Hollow.

increasingly disappearing

oxymoron of love or whatever you call it Leonard Cohen called it room service to disappear increasingly meaning the apex of detachment the antithesis of attachment currying favor with the healthy self opposite the poisonous spice of obsequious pandering apposite the embrace of fullness of time other side of waning decrease withering wallowing Joyce is dead nobody does this crap anymore this fancy tapdance this diamond studded diversion increasingly disappearing into equanimity tempered balance buoyant serenity unfathomable steadiness floating oceans of oh-my-this  

couldn't

tie my shoes
blow bubblegum bubbles
ride a bike
float
lose my virginity
or anyone else's
get sober
behave
not say it
say it
be celibate
stay married
remarry
divorce
stay divorced
lie

and then I could

particulate matters

before the next step pavement sparkles a starry day constellation advancing with each footfall between tire tracks imprinting transit blaring snow islanded coal wet dry wet trumpeting clarion sun white melt Rorschachs but you roadway glitter diamonds pixels pinpricks flame pinnacles piercing into my eyes where have you been all my life

letting go

the missing step at the top of the stairs

the nobody at the other end of having a catch

a call that doesn't come

an unrung bell

a cup unfull

unrumpled sheets, undented mattress

the text unreply absent the notification chime

the her-completed sentences unbegun

weighed against

the oaken firm footing

southpaw sailing toss leather bound

incoming incantations

clarion trumpeting presence

sonorously sounding

overbrimming nectar

gale force bacchanalia

gonging anagrams of U and I

subject predicate object desire

holding on for dear life

My Last Hurrah

Give it one more try. Let's go out with a bang, shall we? One more shot. A last fling. My last hurrah. Throw caution to the winds. Three sheets to the wind, one more time. Some equation. Unmoored, head-first toward the shoals. Huzza. He who laughs last. Cries: "Hooray, hurry, oh hell." Gonna wait till the midnight hour. It'll be different this time. I promise. A look in the mirror: "No more." My swan song sung. My dregs done drained. My last hoorah. Hand over flame. How long, lord? The firing squad at dawn. Last requests? Sink or swim. Sunken treasure. Abandoned ship. Grace unnamed. Surrendered me. And salvaged self. We white flag waved. All aboard. We sure set sail. Wind at our backs. Into the sun. Under the wing. My first hurrah. Our shelter from the storm. Your brooding love. Our anchors aweigh.