I am here and it is the day after.
I lift a pile of unread mail off of a chair and open the blinds,
And watch the sun boil the dust in the air. I set and I take it in.
The room smells of old corsets and perfumed talcum powder.
An antique Lady Schick Consolette hair dryer
Hides partly obscured under the heavy frame of the carved mahogany bed
Along with stacks of magazines and catalogs and…………
God knows what else lurks there.
And I realize that I am the only one now lurking,
Looking into a room that had been forbidden to me
The soul domain of the lady of the house.
But she in not here to make things tidy for this impromptu visit.
She would be so shamed by my eyes taking this all in,
Her secrets, her pills, her special candies, her oils, her perfumes -
All of the alchemical accruements of femininity in jars and tiny boxes.
And the symbols of her wizardry, her diamond encrusted Eastern Star ring,
Pendants, broaches, earrings, necklaces, bobbles, bracelets, clasps, loose pearls-
From a strand I broke long ago during happier days.
The sun dust boils from this cauldron now,
This stuffy, over stuffed chamber of perfume and chocolate,
Of daybeds and special treatments, laxatives, gels, powered and pills.
I dream…..a can of gas and a match would be a fitting end
And then I see it on the dresser, an old photo of a family, a pretend family
And a face is cut out of it, his face…….and so I feel, for a moment
Her pain and see the world has she may have seen it. So be it. It is done.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
If you fall, I bruise.
If you’re cut, I bleed.
If you want, I shan’t refuse.
If you follow, I will lead.
And if you lead, I will follow you
No matter where you go.
No valley is too far to pursue
My blue wild indigo.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
In one smooth motion
she sheathed me
complete.
her vise like legs
tightly wrapped,
her nails dug deep.
passion pain overlapped
with heat.
there would be no
retreat.
Jul 14, 2012
Jul 14, 2012 at 3:28 PM UTC
Old men that stink of gin
with brown stains of chew
oozing at the corners of their
unshaven smile
Raise their twinkling eyes to you
As you saunter slowly by.
And suddenly they are
Twenty now with winks
And nods and memories
Of the by and by.
Martin Hunter
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 11:53 AM UTC
Lightning strikes a jagged path
through the sky and it leaves
no scar behind.
Seas parts a fleet of ships
Then seals itself as if they were
never there.
But the earth keeps a history of old wounds
Cut by rivers,
scared by ice.
Passions stored at its core erupt
and tensions at the edge
crack and shake.
The mountain holds the sky,
the harbor holds the sea,
what holds all is me.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 7:58 PM UTC
Pollywogs and dragonflies
Salamander slime
Some are dreamt and summer schemes.
Mud Daubers on the cattails
Catfish on the hook
Crawl daddy in the cranny.
Crickets with backward knees
Buzzing honey bees
Poets of a summer dream.
Martin Hunter
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC
It is an old dream
I am passing slowly down a sidewalk looking across
A long green lawn.
There is a gathering crowd, some sounds of alarm.
An old man lies on the ground
His face in shadow from of those that stand around.
But he does not move.
He has come to this quiet place and decided to move no more.
But he is moved.
They come and not in any hurry. No urgency.
He is lifted to the gurney
As limp as a rag doll. They cover him and strap him secure
And walk back
Toward the house that stands dark and tall
At the end of this dream
At the end of that long green lawn.
Martin Hunter
5/14/2012
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 9:43 PM UTC
The wall is not a wall at all.
It’s the farmer’s labor
To **** the land of stone,
To stack at the edges
Out of the way of plow and hoof.
It is not to be alone
That he has labored so.
He is not aloof.
He hath not airs and graces.
No man is more soiled than he.
So let him be. At the end of his days
He stands with weary limbs
Bent by toil and wrought by strain
As clouds roll into view black
And swollen with a summer’s rain.
Aug 19, 2011
Aug 19, 2011 at 10:42 PM UTC
You and I go way back before time was invented,
Before the before.
You and I go deep into the smallest of the small,
The very parts of the ALL.
And we are beyond the beyond,
Over the edge, over the top
Gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha
We are here and we are now
And we always was and always will be.
We are that which remains
After all else is destroyed.
We are before the beginning and after the end.
There is no place where we are not.
We are at the center
Of the vast emptiness of space
As it resides in the heart, on the end of pin.
We are without and we are within.
You look in the mirror and you see me.
I look in the mirror and I see you.
There is no space between us
Because the “us” is the grand illusion
That resolves into one.
And so, shall we play?
Martin Hunter 8/14/2011
Aug 15, 2011
Aug 15, 2011 at 3:27 PM UTC
2. The Abby Well
Rahu, old sage of Wu Tai Shan,
Stood by the Great Doors of the Abby.
His dog slept at his feet.
The wood gatherers were descending from the mountain
Their carts piled high with kindling.
They stopped to draw water from the Abby well.
One woodsman spoke up.
“Hey old man, why is the armies of the north
Encamped on the west wall?”
“I have not been so informed until now” Rauh replied.
“Let me ask my dog Ketv.”
The dog arose and stretched its back.
“My dog is also ill informed.” he said.
“I thought you were the sage, old man.”
The woodsmen laughed.
“Is it your dog that speaks to you?
Let me hear his wise advice”.
“He will not speak except to me.” replied Rauh.
“The old monk’s dog barks at the moon. What does it mean?”
A woodsman mocked.
Refreshed the woodsmen left laughing and barking like dogs.
Soon thereafter Ketv began to sniff the air becoming very excited
“Go fetch the wandering monk of Wu Tai Shan,” Rayh implored,
“And I will stoke the fire and prepare tea.”
Soon the wanderer came into sight, thin, clad in rags,
With weathered skin and shining eyes.
“ You need not have sent Ketv to lead me back” he shouted from the Abby gate.
“I can not deny a dog his duty,
I can not lead those that will not follow.
Come here and bless this shrine with your wisdom” thus spoke Rayh.
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 11:42 AM UTC