"digresses" poems
This bed is a comfort,
Much like the sounds of used water
flowing through ninety-year-old pipess,
Soothing me,
while the sounds of the city
are brooding inside of me,
and it’s the same.
It may be the pinnacle
of 1922, pre-collapse Providence,
but it’s the same.
It may be different,
but it’s just the same,
And that's just the way it is
So I cool this brain that's on the fritz
And do my best to keep sane.
The wallpaper is interactive
and there's an infinitude
of pigeons on a television screen
that is worth more than my apartment,
and it’s still the same.
The rug is soaked just the same,
the lingering odor of feet is the same,
and I can feel all the ghosts of guests
from the last century trying to,
dying to speak to me
and through me,
and it’s the same.
The way the sun rises makes me feel like
I have no cause to be awake or asleep,
but I’m awake,
and it’s the same.
The stress of lost cigarettes,
and the blame of untapped digresses into unnecessary depths
is the same.
The way I’m viewing the start
of this day that hasn't yet
is the same,
and it’s a shame.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Beneath the arch,
among the branches,
the maunder of her eyes
finds noir in an afterimage,
every reflection is unique,
explicit and indivisible,
every reflection is her,
there she looks close
for gracefulness,
in the essays of her skin
and their brazen transparencies,
she enters into her body fable,
the shape of her resembles
the tenor viol: where it widens,
where it narrows,
where it digresses
and monochromes,
she reflects a fragile geography,
a soft cargo, but
an inkling of hurricane,
rendering the fault lines
beautiful and strong,
in supplication tomorrow's explorer
will disturb the patterns
until she's become her own lullaby
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 1:16 PM UTC
Look at the situation thus
We have appeared from out of a shell at dusk
Enjoy the twilight
As we seek the night and
We are not prone to turning to dust
Seek all those grandiose remarks
We manufacture them as the dog barks
Take them, cherish them
You will never guess from whence they stem
A distraction is called. O, the larks.
We spun our way around your blood.
Twisting and turning, creating an aqueduct.
Apparent to be in control.
Illusory, such as a verspertine stroll.
Although we created a cliché: your mind was dragged through the mud.
Bless you! Out, Satan out!
The demon has been removed from your snout.
Her allure lies in your head.
Let her enter, and we will not appear so dead.
Thus, stable and strained for now. Though, we will refrain for more than a bout.
Yes, child, we are still here and you are still a child.
For a moment, we successfully made you wild.
Still, this game digresses.
Rules are still the same, even as she undresses.
This dawn will pass, and our number redialled.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 4:20 PM UTC
Poetry is her escape from reality
She keeps her moments alive
In verse on the page
She tries to erase the bad
And
Highlights
And
Dog-ears
The good ones
Why should I remember the sad stuff?
What can I do with these new feelings
Of old heartbreak?
She puts her pen to the paper
She digresses...
Remember when we first kissed?
We left the party early that night
You squeezed my shoulders
Tight
Between your hands
“Let’s get out of here”
We put on our wool coats
And
Tip-toed over the snow-covered sidewalks
In knee-high boots
And
High-tops
You kissed me underneath the stars and street lamps
University City was our backdrop
You pulled away
And
Everything went hazy
My heart was beating so fast
And my mind was screaming
“Don’t stop.”
In that instant
I forgot where I was and where I was going
“This way.”
We took the elevator to the twenty-first floor
You unlocked the door to your apartment
And you
Let
Me
In
You had me wide open
I was vulnerable
And scared
But
Excited about the night’s possibilities
You know how people tell you
To always keep one foot on the ground?
Well, I didn’t listen
I had both feet up in the air
And
I didn’t care
For the first time
I didn’t care about how loud I was
Or
If anybody could hear me
I wanted them to
Why keep it in?
Why hold it in only to let it burn inside me?
It was my music
It was my song
It was my poetry
And
You helped me let it out
You helped me write it
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 3:54 PM UTC
Dream.
Scape.
Escape.
Elevate.
Plunder.
Function.
Reload.
Miss.
No order when chaos retaliates so swiftly.
Guiding hands into the venomous pits.
Where a soul once was housed.
supposedly.
Its only in this abyss.
This land was supposed to be...
Anything but what it is.
When did the guidelines for creation becomes so blurry.
Wicked temptations.
Impregnate even the most righteous.
One of the fallen nights has come to take the warmth.
For this son shall never rise.
A slumber that stretches beyond hindsight.
And digresses into.
Paralyzed Resistance.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
There is an infinity
between the walls of this room
there is an ephemeral affinity
between midnight and noon
and the curtains at last
would bring rise to an absence
while the ceiling has seen
all our natural afflictions
derisions, incisions left lasting
from storms and from partings
given thoughts it would form
the most honest predictions
there is an infinity
between our vacant caresses
that exist yet only
when my mind digresses
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
The sun digresses for the evening
Along with sobriety and meaning,
Taking with it the light
Lest it be left for the night,
To be shared with the moon
Rather then the one with whom
I am sharing the morning light
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
conscience bequeaths I must amend this tale
of bravery to expose, I did nothing out of
this world nor above the call of a normal human
I only did what I saw was called for.
Bravery is a short-sighted woe of a fool
at times a man not thinking , seeing
someone in need I guess we have this blindless
to feel to go without thought impose
Our own cost of justice upon what we saw
and time has its limits for the mind
to fully digest, like a fine three-course dinner
we must have time for it to impress
but, once seen, once saw , once
the raw information progresses to the
pituitary gland and adrenaline
flows, instincts take over and we fight or fly
now this time, as this story digresses, I saw what I thought
was an insufferable transgression of a man
beating his dog alongside the road,
a Dalmatian she was, so I took his right arm and broke it.
I only spent one night in jail where they fed me bologna
Two pieces of bread and an apple.
Let me out the day after. And I have wondered
ever since what happened to the dog and
where that son-of-a-bitch is
I want to break his left arm, too!
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
"I perform well under stress.." she stresses
her lips pursed in a thin line, she digresses
from the main topic, the point of view
that anyone could see, given half the chance, "You.."
"You're deteriorating.." I heave with a sigh,
she tells me she's fine but thats all a lie.
"Just because I don't eat doesn't mean that I'm sick"
But it worries me because your body isn't nearly thick
enough to keep up with this pattern,
your size should be somewhere between Earth and Saturn
but instead you're mercury.
It isn't fair to your body to keep
depriving yourself of all that is good
when all that it needs to survive is some food
I am begging you please
do not fall to your knees.
they say rock bottom is the place to be
when you can't find the right mindset to see
what's happening.
because it's happening.
'I perform well under stress, like charcoal turned to diamond,
when its 3am, writing my notes, its like I'm in my prime and,
I just can't stop now when I'm on this roll"
But you haven't yet seen what this toll
has taken on you
stolen your youth
Your boyfriend can tell,
he's not under some spell
and his gaze always falls to me
he's worried.
He has no idea what to do,
I'm your bestfriend, so I must know what to do.
but i don't
we're on opposite sides in the same boat
so how am i to keep you afloat
when my own heads slipping
under the water?
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
I see their silhouettes
Melt far into the horizon.
Their untimely dance
Knows no bounds,
No digresses
Continuing forward
With no pauses.
The nymphs have departed
And their feet do not hurt
Nor do they ever stop.
They walk right through me
Like the season’s of a year,
Like yesterday’s trees
That are naked today
With a shivering hope
For tomorrow’s new embrace.
Shadows loom amidst silences
Drenched with fever and sweat.
Stupefying moments of unbeing
Confirm impotency’s pending threat.
The nymphs have departed,
But their laughter malingers
As it creeps through tiny holes
And then the ears of some wretched
Like me, feigning to sleep,
While a bustling pageantry on the street
Slithers across from under my feet.
It’s almost nine, now I must set my eyes to weep.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
A jazz musician
wonders back
to his days at the keyboard…
each note over practiced
until melody pure
and magic releases
A poet in laurels
wonders back
to his primers and notepads…
each word placed in order
until imagery calls
—and syntax digresses
(Villanova University: October, 2021)
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
man says, this life, for what, a thousand dry
holes drilled, wildcatting, a win-loss record,
that didn’t approach, come close, to breakeven,
not even an asterisk in the records kept
man says, this body, its rate of desolations
increasing, the goal line distance secretions,
decreasing, this broken runner, tackled from behind
by the past, as his future caught up with him
man says, goals, deadlines, hamstring him,
due dates, an invitation to a criminal activity,
rub, nobody wants to take it down, his record,
left behind, when they shut Rikers Island
man says, always poor at maths, a loser of words,
his parents, his children, all time despairing of him,
called the AAA to come, tow him away, but,
all the junkyards refused him entry
man says, what separates ought and nought,
a little letter, just an n, that screaming thought,
a little letter, insufficient to bridge a poem too far,
man digresses, the past is ever present, in every word
writ and forgot.
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 9:37 AM UTC
I planned and planted
A seaful of sky on my palm
Where the stars ingress
And the sun digresses
To the cottage of fireflies I built
There for you to
Burn.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 10:49 AM UTC