saintclare
Writer (blogger, rarely-published poet, short story writer, would-be novelist, and essayist), armchair philosopher, half-assed mystic, professional a-hole, and so forth. / / I'm a dislocated suburban cowboy looking for enlightenment in the age of the eschaton. I've been actively writing since ca. 2004-2006. / / I blog and maintain a personal site at 'The Grand Tangent'. {thegrandtangent.com} / / I also run a small, online magazine called 'The Drunken Llama'. {thedrunkenllama.com} I welcome submissions to the site. If you'd like to submit your poetry or other artistic works, please see {https://thedrunkenllama.com/about/}.
I like long walks on the beach,
Total enlightenment,
Licorice, and whisky
I am one with the universe
In tossing the old bocce ball
Through the long stretch of crab grass
Knocked the kingpin off its hinges
The horse shoe head landing in the dirt
A sign of the times, reducing earth and god
And us to
Everything
Scotch Plains, New Jersey
Scotch indeed! Or was it wine
That spilled over and into the street
Like rain rattling and trailing in residual little
Momentary lines through leaf and dirt and
Into the gutters gurgling and glistening and
Crying out to the long-dead lights,
“I am here! I am here now!”
The stars, they say, hear even the muffled
Screams of water and earth and man and
Time, even the mean tabby cat that glides along
The carpet in the twilight
We played horseshoes and bocce and sometimes chess
We watched old family tapes
And walked on the beach, and I hated licorice
Never had whisky
But **** me if it’s no different now
Between the times and signs and then
Sitting in the crab grass, drinking and dying and seeing and
Being and living and lying and I
Imagine the fine engraving
Left by a horse shoe head
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
Four on the fold;
Turned within:
Coil and Pyramid
An eye for an eye makes
No world deaf
No love held
No life had
Not a moment here
Or a road in sight
[...]
Once upon a time, when
you, like him along the Rhine
Thought of your reflection,
Mutable in the current
You too grasped that chance for
No representation, no reality
Beyond that weariness
Yet
Your pain, you didn’t know
Became the king’s austerity
[...]
Cloak and Dagger, a dove came
In the night like a thief on the hour arrived
Unexpectedly, inexplicable as
A sickness or sage or words to tell why
Why?
Why?
Why me?
She too stole that power from,
Usurping the crown from above
Reason, elevated unto
—Passed down from—
Hand in hand in the Court of the heart
And here yet again
Yet again you’re here!
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
Who said I was inside?
Oh! I wish it wasn’t
Put it in the tree
Or on the clothing line
Hang it up to dry with tears
In sweltering Hanoi
If it can’t make it in light
We’ll do it otherwise
Permeate, waxing
Those mosquitoes hover in the moonlight
A void where half a whole
World kissed God
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
cigarettes drowned
with two phones
glasses snapped
girl’s gone
everyone’s off to Brooklyn
beat off in bed
and a bottle of wine
Ha!
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
Two mirrors stand
Adjacent, opposed
Staring into the infinity
They strive to approach
Becoming
But never being
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 4:49 PM UTC
crossing from
the park
to the bank,
stepping over
the remains
of a grackle
on the grass
that glides
into the sidewalk
and
suddenly
dissolves
at the verge
of the
road
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC