"mortise" poems
youth’s days were borrowed, its number, your name
carefully journaled by razor into soft skin on the back of my hand,
the monument now gently faded into its wrinkles
but dust doesn’t stick to the digits, as scars can’t sweat
I hide them still, wiping away gritty life surrounding
and today, even my wife remains clueless
because you do disappear -
time continues with two people aging together
our gray hairs streaking the basin in morning,
phone calls to the children later
by day I may dream another filthy furrow to fit into,
needing to glimpse again that flimsy past, and then
ponder glued joints of mortise and tenon
or half-lapped, passionless, the strongest, I’m convinced
we never found time to worry over furniture,
or learn that living is contained in mundane details
like dovetails and drawer pulls
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Boredom rigor mortise ambition it rots
Digging dig digging bury the plot
No time to waste tick tock tick tock
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
Like a giant Sequoia tree, well aged and outwardly still tall and firmly anchored
I proudly display, my outer senescent bark, but inside, I’m pitted and cankered
Still majestic and straight, branches spread, with fingered needles reaching for the sky
But at each limb joint, those cracks lay hidden; not yet visible, to the naked eye
Those blisters ravage and rage, at my inner trunk; but not, so you can clearly see
Hidden by the sap; like those morning rheum tears, which seep out and crust on me
I reach skyward, extend my branches to the sun; my sieve tubes there unplugged
But below, my veins congested, and my arteries full of sap, are fully clogged
And yet I stand, without an outward tremble; disguising well the tremors in my roots
With all my strength, I will them hold; do not cede, to the pain that in them shoots
I will perceiver; not able to bend with the wind, I stand firm still; until I break
Stiffen my resolve; until my fluids coagulate, and rigor mortise does me overtake
BOEMS BY JA 397
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
Waiting, like molecules slowed in crisp heavy air,
Like earths rotation has been compromised.
The clock has all but stopped its ticking,
Anticipation alive and writhing, sticking
To the moment before it, sighing
Licks its wicked lips, it’s smiling.
I swear its trying to **** me,
waiting for water to rush
Over and replenish this parched earth
Is like waiting for a cure
The day after death has
Rendered me stiff and ridged.
Riga mortise over and done with.
I wonder how many times
That I can die before
You will warm me with your kiss.
I miss you
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:35 PM UTC
The red breast of the Robin flits
around the frozen dusted icing sugar
- fried seaweed green grass
crisp rigor mortise cold as a corpse.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 9:39 AM UTC
my words
splinter and die
rodent feet
pointing ramrod into the
smeared horizon of prose
frozen with rigor mortise and
dread, dread, dead
in a lingering way,
completely unlike the
clean bleach
coffin sealed
pool of blood way
you idealize
this is
rotting and putrid,
there is no
embalming fluid
for bad poetry
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
an average of 2,830 cubic meters
per second of rich silt
forms an alluvial plain
spreads outward in a fan shape
from sedimentary deposit whereby
ancient Egyptian civilizations got built
adorning arid topography invaluable
like aorta pumping blood at the nape
of the neck, yet analogous context
engendered engineering feats without guilt
whereby artisans, craftsmen,
early geographers illustrated in frieze and drape
frozen timeless statuary exhibiting
phenomenal abilities to the hilt
associated from mainspring within
fertile crescent swollen like a plump grape
which longest river often overflows
banks whereby coveted materiel gets spilt
feeding the rift valley and allowing,
enabling and providing peoples to dominate
flooding the history of mankind
with accomplishments that marvel even today
epitomized by innovations -
alphabets, wheelwrights, pyramids, etc lives did create
baffling historians how each mortise and tenon
snug as a bug in a rug mortise and tenon block
construed edifices persons did intricately lay
perfect with near geometric exactitude
ranks as wonder of webbed wide world great
faint hints of daily trials and tribulations
recorded for posterity in clay
or shards of broken pottery pieced together
coupling revelations a mosaic plate
which functional artifacts
provided dietary staples
to pagan spirits populace did pray.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
Hmm, perhaps titled,
aye poem already didst aired
though revisiting said theme
downplayed as thoughts blare
though similar con tent
invariably communicated
sans, trademark pi Seine fishtail career
as applies to other questions,
this chap asks himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm'n weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely
a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear
this penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
word ** seeking me own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile materiel undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,
and webbed woven semi colon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma own home spun faux
cambridge analytica gimcrackery defaced book best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest!
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
When you talk about masonry,
There are lots of types of joints.
It will last if built correctly,
I'm sure it never disappoints.
A mortise and tenon joint,
Is the strongest and best looking,
And I am not like that like she is.
I may be strong but not good looking.
So I consider myself as a doweled joint,
Which is only strong.
But when I look at you,
I realized that I'm just a Dado joint.
The ones who always support.
Like how they support shelves,
Like how I support you for her.
I'm not strong as I thought I could be.
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 6:44 AM UTC
This atheistic, intelligent, liberal minded
nonestablishmentarian
christened Matthew
Scott Harris, haint gotta clue,
how bias, discrimination,
prejudice didst brew
within me noggin admitting to myself,
(that though tolerant
towards most other people)
amidst variegated hue
mankind cutting crew,
I can not wholeheartedly dislodge un argue
ably the stubborn presence
of disagreeably unwanted notions,
an effort quite few
till to expunge, though not clearly
delineated against gentile nor Jew
the latter encompassing
my genealogical lineage
(as ye probably knew)
though acute awareness exists
that objectionable thoughts
towards others coalesced and grew,
sans initial aural, sensational,
and visual perceptions did ensue
from nearly imperceptible
germinal, ephemeral, and casual
brief interactions, thy amygdala and,
posterior cingulate cortex
(PCC) instantaneously drew
nearly nsync with a single blink
of thine myopic left or right human eye
(which average duration 0.1 to 0.4 seconds,
or 100 to 400 milliseconds)
forged an unconscious initial mount'n view
clocked in at 100 milliseconds
or 328.0839895013123 feet per second
pointing asper an expert mason
hermetically sealing a psychic impression
ala mortise and tenon
amalgamated conglomerate
enterprise glommed zoo
wool logical imprimatur difficult,
but not impossible loo
sin and/or completely dislodge
neurological hullabaloo.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
There is so much space demands
and it isn't just minding it.
Feel space
like how you feel a hand glide
over your breast and prod
your intricacies with surgery-precision.
There isn't much space when
there are two people in the room.
Heed space
and soak your body into various calls
like coming
into world with fullness,
you arrive and take
space, therefore, you are.
lewd fat air circumventing past
open windows announcing more
s p a c e
on the fryer or inside the common
heliotrope of dawn lies space
and its absurd eyelids submerge the
soul into inconsolable mouths
with the droll of a wilting word,
there is much ado said over
certain vacuities and its sole kinship
is always its emphasis.
it takes being alone to sing beautifully
yet a marginal dance of swan
meandering in space takes two
(as mortise
and tenon)
each without, senselessly moving.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
You wonder about the celestial walls of my heart
And surely the mutinous eyes
Undoubtedly about the mortise lock over my Ruby Lips
That with a touch can destroy your warm
ice
Diamonds fulfilling the sky do grace you at night
But my little star gazer
Intervening the black,what's the value of
white
You had just gazed my lapis lazuli like smile
But darling inside me a universe resides
Having no noticeable boundary till million miles
You can't bear my hocus pocus mind honey
From my Muzzy vision to my elegant walk
Clumsy alone dumb coward girl to
Glamorous happy intelligent Fearless girl, I carry in journey
My eyes are my magical stick
Beware, my inner self can make the hell out of you sick.
Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 5:15 AM UTC