Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2022 · 627
Wet Leaves
Norman Crane Oct 2022
wet leaves leave wet
trails on the asphalt
trails on the asphalt
leading lead horses through
heavy fog, heavy with the fall
days falling heavily away
heavy with water gathered from
the rain fall-
ing rain-
fall on lead horses on wet leaves
leaving wet trails on the asphalt
in the heavy fog in the heavy fog
Oct 2022 · 247
Norman Crane Oct 2022
a fragile mountain of tiny clothes,
piled griefly on the floor,
unused and
of no more use to this oncebrief family anymore.

we should set fire to it. no,
we should expire within it. no,
we should pick up knives and in our denial of it know
finality of pain.

yet something stays the hand—

something and:
that no matter how intense the hurt,
you were, however faintly, too upon this Earth.
with us of us in us
you must   remain.

God, let us pray never to forget that day.

remembering it most when
we move through this hideous volume of silence,
                 in a house;
of broken geometry,
moving forward everything recedes,
waiting for something to happen. anything but the pale

yet something stays the hand—

your face then
your eyes opening again
breathe in

this hope,
worth all the ******* pain in the world,

my dear little girl
in Heaven.
Oct 2022 · 268
Scarlet Jargonias
Norman Crane Oct 2022
The specialists hold open their dry mouths,
From which sprout-out scarlet jargonias,
Nonsensyllables resistant to drought,
That blooming reek of death and ammonia.
Oct 2022 · 215
Coltrane, 1960
Norman Crane Oct 2022
drums, as if; like quarterthump-thump
to the walking bassline, note after
note noted sax notes excavated some
-one -where -how 'lin screamin solo is hurt
in melody exploded (ain't got one)
pieces in a key of perpetual change
mode devours mood on sheets of sound
kind of giant blue steps taking miles by train
the future's improvised     and inwardbound.
Oct 2022 · 369
Love is a gangrenous limb
Norman Crane Oct 2022
Love is a gangrenous limb,
Mangled and raw,
Never healing, love is a metonym,
Fatal ifn't offed     with a hacksaw.
Oct 2022 · 533
hawk stops atop a hornbeam
Norman Crane Oct 2022
hawk stops atop a hornbeam
in an urban copse
leaves falling
how must everything to the hawk seem
a dream in a dream i have seen
him i have been
circling and soaring and
—the snap of a shutting laptop.
spell broken,
hawk on beating wings passing away,
passing she asks, how've you been?
i have been well, i say
i have been well, i say
Oct 2022 · 132
Beagle and I
Norman Crane Oct 2022
Dawn-walking together, Beagle and I,
In a city grey and a'slumber-still,
On fading scent-paths of yesternight,
Down'by presence' past, toward the what-will (what-will).
Oct 2022 · 120
skyscraped skyline
Norman Crane Oct 2022
skyscraped skyline  quarterwhite
in morning light mourning
       the ritual passing of the night,
the city by dreams wound wakes mechanical-like,
preprogrammed as the rising of the sun,
celestially powered
cars trains buses, everyone—
gears turning—
scurry scurry to gets things done.
Oct 2022 · 184
The window is a mirror
Norman Crane Oct 2022
The window is a mirror,
I am the pregnant charcoal sky,
Gazing out I see within,
Through the self- and self-reflexive lie,
That I am I am I,
Drops away, cool and clear and as winter near,
The truth precipitates,
The year's first snow accumulates,
Tossed by winds across the sky, vast and open as my mind,
In which is I,
In which is I forever going blind.
Oct 2022 · 124
The acceleration
Norman Crane Oct 2022
The acceleration tastes of battered citrus,
The speed, of neon wine,
The rain writes dashes horizontal,
Across the landscape of the coastline,
The car-machine we're in's within us,
Both it and we: in time,
Entropy will soon make landfall,
And speeding speeding we shall die.
Oct 2022 · 530
What ugly brilliance
Norman Crane Oct 2022
What ugly brilliance burns within the face,
Of the man who switched his head for the Sun,
The Earth, in orbit round his skull in space,
Becomes a Hell: his heat—melting everyone.
Oct 2022 · 573
Wild ducks swim
Norman Crane Oct 2022
Wild ducks swim the flooded streets,
Dead men float face down,
What do the living eat,
When civilizations drown.
Sep 2022 · 137
The wind carries winter
Norman Crane Sep 2022
The wind carries winter upon its ice edge,
Daylight is cut, the minutes fall away,
Summer surpasses a mountain ledge,
Breathing in tomorrow, exhaling today.
Sep 2022 · 155
The summer lingers
Norman Crane Sep 2022
The summer lingers in days unending,
The past's seen dimly through a pool of time,
Warmth falls away like bodies descending,
The sun's extinguished by the horizon line.
Sep 2022 · 673
if stars
Norman Crane Sep 2022
if stars, night, if sun, day,
but if the sun's a star,
is night day, is day night,
are we dead or are we light?
Nov 2021 · 297
William Blake, Necromancer
Norman Crane Nov 2021
It was eighteen hundred and nine
when William Blake was visited
by a vision of the divine
angel, which sat upon his bed,
and conferred on him God's power
to raise—by speech—the faithful dead.
"As writing's done, now come the hour
to act," the glorious angel said.
"To blaze against the shadowmist
spewed by the dark satanic mills.
Thy sole command is thus: Resist,
for all the shadow touches, it kills."
Then the angel disappeared, and
Blake was left alone. "An army
of undead," he thought, "to stand
with me against the vile industry?"
So it was that Blake visited
crypt, churchyard and cemetery,
where by pure incantation did
he resurrect the very
victims of the mine and factory.
He spoke; their limbs burst through the soil,
skeleton-men singing, "Glory
to the Almighty!"  /  "Accursed toil
killed you, but I grant you new life!"
Blake intoned, and, gazing at them,
a sea of white frothing strife,
knew they would create Jerusalem.
When the British Prime Minister,
Spencer Perceval, learned of Blake's
sorcery, he sensed sinister
times, telling parliament, "Mistake
at your peril the poet's crusade,
inhuman in its unnature,
aimed at the progress we have made,
as rumour. The legislature,"
he said, "must brace for civil war."
Meanwhile, Blake and his bone legion
wrecked utter havoc in the north,
cleansing greed-sin from the region.
Coal production fell—ton by ton.
Parliament did send a thousand men,
but still nothing could be done.
They fought. Blake beat them. ‘twas then
that drowning in desperation
Perceval turned to the great
industrialist, Ward.  “Save our nation,”
he beseeched, “from its dreadful fate.
Our way of life is threatened, and
our common profits are at stake.”
Ward pondered. Then revealed his plan:
“A million souls, kiln-baked,
dismembered and reassembled
into one giant defender—”
“A million dead?” Perceval trembled.
“Would you rather we surrender?”
So it was done. Forced from their homes;
burnt, screaming; pleading for mercy.
From their congealed human loam
was born: a Titan of Industry!
Profit-seeking automaton,
one thousand feet tall. Steel plated.
Violent. With superhuman brawn.
Switched on—yet never to be sated.
“This beast,” said Blake, “we meet head on!”
as he rallied his undead troops
before their assault on London.
The city teemed with fresh recruits,
watching, waiting, in unabating
fog: their Titan’s excreted smog.
A general was just stating
how the fight would be a slog—
When Blake appeared on the horizon,
followed by a river of bone,
white warriors with sharpened limbs
under the banner of a tombstone.
“Now!” Ward instructed the Titan.
It lumbered forth: into the fray!
Met by the surging skeleton
wave, as Blake knelt down to pray,
and Perceval, looking away,
went mad from the clattering din.
British soldiers charged into grey
death. The Titan pushed deep within
Blake’s crumbling lines. Kneeling, he cried,
“Why, God, have you abandoned us?”
Ward laughed, and the Titan pounded
the undead into calcium dust.


The Titan was the master. / Jerusalem would not come to pass.
Oct 2021 · 193
Mustapha Mond
Norman Crane Oct 2021
what's left when wonders fade
amusements end
and the games have all been played
could we even comprehend
such life without distraction
a life of focus:
a life of action
Norman Crane Oct 2021
blackbird alighted on a branch,
frosted branch,
     deepest winter,
setting free the accumulated snow,
which fell,
     like flour through a sifter,
and in one descending
     we are,
a universe apart,
reflecting briefly in the dark.
Oct 2021 · 268
Norman Crane Oct 2021
nothing is serious
life's a fleeting lark, he said
knifed—falling:            dead
Oct 2021 · 730
Waking Life
Norman Crane Oct 2021
wake up, he'd said, she
in a dream,
awakening reality,
and herself within it,
and the feeling lingered,
all morning
she saw through the translucent
world, as slowly opaqueness
returned, in the afternoon,
falling asleep,
Oct 2021 · 127
The Boxer
Norman Crane Oct 2021
—the bell!

/ end of the 6th round /

He staggered to his corner, collapsed on his stool.

Enswell. Water.

"******* ain't tirin'."

Cornerman: "He will. All men tire."

He got   off the stool,
ate a left,
and countered:
knocking the *******'s skin off,
revealing: not bone:

Oct 2021 · 129
i ironed mi shirt
Norman Crane Oct 2021
i ironed mi shirt
wanted to straighten out
mi life
           lies crumpled on the floor
mi life
           is nothing more
than a pile,
           creased       sore         linen,
gittin mi **** together
this year and youre in
it  too
                      this pile of me n iou.
Oct 2021 · 429
Norman Crane Oct 2021
treble treble bass
fish swims, her gills opening;
                scales upon her face
Oct 2021 · 236
Sun Flowers
Norman Crane Oct 2021
if you plant the seeds,
sun flowers shall, blooming, light
up the universe
Oct 2021 · 230
Norman Crane Oct 2021
I was born too late
to make it to work on time.
Norman Crane Oct 2021
whales rise from the sea like blimps,
we see them from rooftops,
plainly distorted,
through unclean high-rise windows,
in cars, gridlocked and craning
our fragile human necks,
inhaling smog,
blowholes struggling,
against the urban skyline—
they pop

there are no more whales anymore,
more and more, we wanted,
until there were no more
oceans, forests,
plains, only rocks, cliffsides and amenities
in which we churn, keeping our
heads down,
chins tucked safely,
never looking up, lest we see
the exploded whales raining down
on us, a final rain
of guilt and consequence
Oct 2021 · 757
Autumn Leaves
Norman Crane Oct 2021
summer heat
beating up from sticky asphalt
     has dissipated
autumn cools the world
bathing us in its solid shade
under an umbrella
     of breezy rustling colour:
as summer leaves
autumn leaves
Oct 2021 · 1.0k
Nothing but the wind
Norman Crane Oct 2021
nothing but the wind
escapes this abandoned house;
flowing,       it pushes
all the sunlight out   until
we are alone in darkness
Oct 2021 · 231
Hard Rain
Norman Crane Oct 2021
rain spears the surface
     each ripple becomes a tale
of diminishing
Oct 2021 · 178
Norman Crane Oct 2021
a tree falls / fall trees
reddening leaves leave red and
                            yellow evenings
Oct 2021 · 162
Norman Crane Oct 2021
pallisade of pines
     demarks the edge of childhood
           needles on the grass
Oct 2021 · 157
Norman Crane Oct 2021
leaves wait for the wind
     to blow before they rustle
before they—
Oct 2021 · 120
Tree branch reflections
Norman Crane Oct 2021
tree branch reflections
on the windshield
spread like cracks in glass
      the landscape rushes past
we feel
our imperfections
spread like cracking glass
      on faces that we know
flicker:in the headlit glow
to where it is we go
when ourselves we no longer know

strangers in a car
speeding somewhere in the dark
Oct 2021 · 135
Stutter / St. Utter
Norman Crane Oct 2021
Patrons ain't
often a city list en-
close lying odist arts
pea king smoothly the truth.

St. Utter,
Patron Saint
of tenacity, listen
closely: in God I start
speaking smoothly the truth.
Oct 2021 · 463
Us & Them
Norman Crane Oct 2021
plans of youth, they've gone,
into these lives we've settled
dust upon a drum
Oct 2021 · 263
Norman Crane Oct 2021
her face framed—by
e, she said—
      the train window—
                   as it pulls away
Oct 2021 · 174
Norman Crane Oct 2021
come in with the moon
and stay awhile like starfish
stay in a tide pool
both of us under its sway
then parting—
                       moon pulling away
Oct 2021 · 105
Norman Crane Oct 2021
lightning flashes
blue veins, illuminated sky
seeing the world as it is
organic, epidermis of the mind's eye
thunder is a muscle
twitching as the demiurge dies
pellucid skin—
revealing heaven's bones—
the universe is empty
we are on our own
Sep 2021 · 203
Norman Crane Sep 2021
crepuscular predation
**** the waning sun
weakest of the herd of stars
its luminance is almost done
Norman Crane Sep 2021
tell me why the daises sing
they've no minds
and their bodies are decomposing
they've not souls
and winter is coming
tell me why
they are so happy all the time
am i also meant—
(their song is not a song of joy)
(their song is a lament)
Sep 2021 · 543
Norman Crane Sep 2021
the mountains rebel
       rising up against the earth
Sep 2021 · 254
In Passing
Norman Crane Sep 2021
life is time borrowed
a wheat field softer than fur
flows,          under the scythe
Sep 2021 · 386
Norman Crane Sep 2021
an oath—
broken by the
mouth, unspoken,
that spoke it, broken
not by word but by deeds,
kissing, and a marriage bleeds.
Sep 2021 · 114
Follow your dreams
Norman Crane Sep 2021
follow your dreams
     to where?
to the land of make-believe
     how long should i stay there?
forever, my friend
think positively, and you can
     make sleep the end?
indeed, and—
     dreaming, i can live anything!
yes, but:   we'll call it death then.
Sep 2021 · 234
Norman Crane Sep 2021
a feather dropping
pond water gently rippling
stillness to
Sep 2021 · 89
Like bubbles rising
Norman Crane Sep 2021
like bubbles
rising through water
escaping,   oneafteranother
up, lighter than—
we are
empty  as  canned laughter
upwardly  mobile,
rising till realising, we  are:
like bubbles rising
in a (corked)  water (bottle)
Sep 2021 · 806
Norman Crane Sep 2021
root of all evil
a man | hanged in every home
                look in the mirror
Sep 2021 · 629
The dog wakes
Norman Crane Sep 2021
the dog wakes
at the flying red dragon
as the dream fades
Sep 2021 · 306
I've an egg inside me
Norman Crane Sep 2021
I've an egg inside me
that's in the process of—
cracking /
What hatches, we'll see.
I'll offer it my love,
and it shall be lovely,
eating me from inside,
until it can—
no longer hide.
Sep 2021 · 102
Tonight the tide comes in
Norman Crane Sep 2021
tonight the tide comes in
fully. tomorrow
we'll need glass bottom boats
to see new york city.
the flood lights
the deluge
reflecting the moon,
pulling the water over us
like a blanket. soon
our lungs will become pumps,
the statue of liberty.
Next page