"feldspar" poems
A blue guitar, twelve pieces of silver-
ware, some feldspar, an essay on The Art
of War, two pine bookshelves, fifty-four books
about the past, a stone axe that must have
belonged to the last of the Mohicans, fifty more
books about bones, stones and famous pomes,
a sliver of glass from a mirror that shattered
the last six years like they didn't matter
plus one to go, a shitload of old liquor bottles,
a fossil of an inner earbone from a killer whale,
a spear-point older than 12,000 years+plus,
a tooth from a shark as big as a ****** bus,
dust marks from missing pictures of us.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
~
*cracked compass
burning atlas
no sense of direction
on a drive about
the silent forests of the heart
egressing from the shadows
that hunt for us
foot caught on the accelerator
passing escapism's plateau
like a dissolving shelf of flashbacks
kept in a glass jar
it's normal to tire out
wondering who will it be
looking in the window?
the people at the wheel
are not on the payroll
they're pierced and sheer
on the surface
but their deepest parts
still inhabit bone
and slave for mere feldspar
once again human thoughts
turn to crystalline
and still they shine for us
signs are posted:
"a time for vanishing, lay it to rest"
until the unfamiliar sound
of the walls of Jericho
collapsing
breaks the momentum
quiets the traffic
we entered a promise land
on cruise control
with too many exits
and not enough things to see
we did not end up
where we thought we'd be
those eyes at dusk
in the rearview mirror
they hunt for us
they wait for sleep*
~
May 7, 2022
May 7, 2022 at 2:26 PM UTC
My soul, into granite
Into quartz; into feldspar-
The flesh world can't hold
My roving mind, bold
Ever changing flares, but
Where's the base layer-
Reached not by prayer
That time hasn't raked
My soul's been naked,
For two billion years
O, clothe me in starlight,
In pure dreams of suns, bright
The universe of substance
Subside into me-
I just want to stay true
To myself, in that light
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 5:14 PM UTC
A feeling in the wrong place
Can only corrupt and erode
Like a meandering stream,
That leaves a scar.
Our lives do not flow so easy
There is cleavage,
But there is also fracture
Eradict and unpredictable.
We are not all prized gems
We are impure and complicated
Not so easily identified by the eye.
Closer to quartz and feldspar than diamonds,
Yet we long to posess
a promise of value
and so we pull this image close
We reach out for order,
Hardness and grace
But it was not the stream alone that carved the canyons
There was a grand collapse,
And the stream was left to carry that debri away.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
You're beautiful
Her heart leaked though sweat soaked pores hardening into
black fragmented biotite to hold her in the prison of her own piousness
Feldspar crystal kneecaps vine intertwining into the lost rock city
Rita was your lascivious sin worth stitching your soul with
Zizyphus Spina Christi to the barren waste lands of your repentance
He kissed you while standing in death's door with sickened veins
You grasped hold and pulled him back from the shadows of the valley
He loved you by the alter of your Father as you bled your tongue in silence
You vowed to lay with no other man than Him almighty
But your vow broke like straw in the sweet summer heat
Now your head remains bowed waiting for your soft breeze of forgiveness
As the ground shifts, as the wind blows
Your body shudders, slipping fragments of your nose, ears, arms, feet, ******* eyes, and fingers slide from you
As your lips crumble to rest upon your thigh
You cry out, vibrations leading to your demise.
Screaming for the ones who have forsaken, weeping for Him who has smited you by turning your soul to stone.
Though it all with in your eternal poignancy, and never ending rage
You're still magnificent.
I don't believe that shall come to pass.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 3:17 PM UTC
elastic synapses bring me back
momentarily
before projecting future visions
across the landscape of my mind’s eye
youthful vigor and swaying pines
sage wafting across the high desert
at sunset –
my heart yearns to return home
to a place it has never lived
but always loved
broken feldspar littered
juniper and jackrabbits
in January –
rusted jalopy rattles down
pumas pathways
seeking the young buck
recently free from velvet
hunger tempering the shot
starving children
create a year-round season –
lost in time
wagon wheels still rest along wind beaten fences
tumbleweeds build mountains
along the west side
of run down shacks
the vestibule of the cottontail
the vestige of a forgotten age –
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
feldspar conglomerate
pyrite flakes sparkle
basalt backdrop
…granted, the granite
is liken to a gneiss
but placed near the soap or sand
it stands alone without chip-ability
raw uncut opal sending prisms dancing
against the distorted garnet plug –
her ruby lips shown bright
against the chert and ashen
speckles of flint
diamond twinkles
fall from topaz tear ducts
land softly on an emerald blazer
adorned with ruby buttons –
****** at the rock show
I marvel and the marble
and experience simpatico with a sapphire
while the tourmaline tantalizes my taste buds
sending me reeling into a radical thunder egg
as the agates flew willy-nilly
I groped blindly for a brick to steady myself
but instead fell hard onto the concrete
or was it asphalt….
either way, I may as have well been tarred and feathered
dipped in oil
and sent to the borax plant –
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
Feldspar, Quartz, calcium and granite
slip slowly through my hand
Crushed by time
into small grains of sand
A Millennia of time
shaping the ground where I stand
Stretching for miles
under sea and over land
Time held together
by this last fragile strand
As the beginnings of life
slip slowly through my hand
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
i am so much like
the tide and sand--all
there and then not a trace
each grain pushed up and
dug in, washed away by
a smooth hand, pulled
up and dredged out,
separated by skilled
fingers from the
muck and ****
swept out of my
hiding place where
i clung to the rocks
and crevices with fervor
only to be cast upon the shore
water-logged and soaked in salt
i am each mote of feldspar and quartz
drawn and then flat, riddled with color
and grime, pulsing day in--day out to
the heartbeat of an ocean, to a master
as a servant--fighting the flux where
it doesn't go
all the bits and none at all, against the
water then all at once, all at once, all at once
out into the sea, into the furious evening
to weather the storm or weather myself
all at once
all at once
all at once.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Go toward the bright sun's glare upon the snow,
Test the crust underfoot and trek to the west.
There are no footprints here, we are like the air,
That rattles leaves and hammers the tundra flat.
Call to the ghosts of the now forgotten fall,
Sinter white coals in the furnace of winter
Gneiss, feldspar, mica and granite all of ice
Frost like barbed wire, icy borders to be crossed.
Wend through the trees, with the thawing wind I send,
Found now, the sun's heat arrives without a sound,
Among grassy fields laid bare, a song is sung.
Free of ice and wind, that brings you here to me.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
~
Heat mirage on sandy soil
disintegrating cirrus left from the cool night
skittering horn toad flattens to hiss before
leaving the sunbaked earth
for shadowed hollow protections.
Large red-bottomed fire ants
carry back to a simple hole cuttings of magpie
they store foodstuffs for the hard months ahead
while cleaning the land of rotting bodies.
Hollow bones stripped of flesh
begin to bleach and crack
stiff winds pile feldspar and quartz along the western edge
of a bird long free from nest building and chick rearing.
Only a passing coyote gives the magpie body a second thought
before turning west towards dancing foothills. /
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 5:34 PM UTC
The star rises over rock: granite, limestone and feldspar
Spring’s early flower awakens and is the first to bud,
Somewhere out in the sky, worlds succeed in the midst of a quasar
And in the ground, other worlds thrive down in the mud
People hustle about, checking time for their own insurance
Animals lay about, unknowing of our artificial construction
Clocks enslave out actions, continually rushing our presence
Perceptions of time will bring about our own destruction
Spring blossoms into summer, summer fades to fall, fall decays to winter,
The changing of the seasons is trying to teach us something
Our mother can’t take everything against which we pit her
Time does not remain static, it is never regressing, but forever coming
We cannot live in a hurry, waiting for a glimpse of leisure to be caught
The animals constantly remind us: time passes whether we measure it or not
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC