Saturday, November 27, 2010

Doleful Noon

All alone this Tuesday lunch
When the sky has reached potential
When the sky-dust has a hunch

And absorbs the midday punch
Of the light before these eyes
It can reach, or utilize
Any process providential
To uplift and subsequential
Movement to that effect.

So there is only to reflect
On emotion confidential
-- But only what you might expect.

Ice sparks just inside the skin:
Is it cold fireworks snapping,
Scraping, tickling and tapping
With needle-claws digging in
Against the body's trapping?
Against the frail wrapping?

It shivers in the channels
Along down to my fingers.
It rings around and 'round;
It sings without a sound
That a bat could even see
And no cell phone ever found.

Is it a phantom dead and fading?
Sneaking, crawling from behind?
Is it in the body and spirit
Messing up a cracking mind?
If I turned around, oh hell,
What exactly would I find?

Paralyzed by icy rockets,
Tight fists shaking in my pockets
Unprepared for any kind
Of thought or word that could remind
About the past that raises panic
Behind the face and strikes me blind.

Its cause is buried so deep
That I die each time I sleep
So I never have to dream
And see again those things I saw
That made my sense of self feel raw,
Exposed like sand before a wind;
And see again the threat of end:
The end of good, of every friend,
To think of it was to scream.

All the horror my eyes could thaw
To melt across the brain and draw
Reactions forth to say and send;
My only hope was my only flaw.
At the last I had no tears to shed
There weren't enough for all the dead
But something must grow from deadly seed:

I'd seen horror and sorrow beyond all need
I had witnessed every evil deed.
Now whenever I look, my eyes start to bleed.


  1. I'd like to apologize for this poem: first because it's so long, and second because it's so dark and depressing. (Oh, great holiday spirit I'm in!) I'm really not anxious or depressed; I don't know why my writing became so dark lately... I didn't want to post most of the stuff I've been writing.

  2. eyes start o bleed,
    so sad.
    powerful imagery....
    Hope you well....

    don't forget to link some of your poems to potluck tonight,
    Happy Sunday!

  3. as a poet, you did an outstanding job.
    Glad that it is only your writing, not reflecting your real life.

    way to go.
    very extraordinary piece.
    keep it up.

  4. I really liked this one. It has so much emotion