Monday, March 28, 2011

From the Diary of Abraham Lincoln

I remember Illinois
when i was a boy,
i remember the rugged winter’s snow-blown rage,
the sharp rush of cold air that turned my breath to smoke
and the good feelings it spawned within me.

I was happy then
carrying songs with me wherever i went,
i knew joy and
slung it over my shoulder,
but now,
the snow is mingled with the
blood of careless youth,
the wind carries sounds of distant drums
and screams of soul-less bodies
enshrouded in the stitch of their uniforms
and their devotion to a cause.

Death visits early
with my signature,
ears are funneled to catch my every whisper,
how have i come to such power
over like and death,
over pain and grief?
i am even looked up to and admired,
i am very very tired.

It’s been a long time
since i could close my eyes and rest
without the icy breath of death
withering my dreams,
reminding me incessantly of exactly
where i stand, and yet
i am seen the hero,
even the negroes bless me with their chanting,

I have not given myself to rest
for so very very long,
i dream of an end to this nightmare,
someone come and take this pain away.

Somewhere along the way to this office,
to this imposing desk
burdened by official memoranda,
i have lost the urge to weep
over these appointments of slaughter
i keep,
over these endorsements of impending carnage
i can will to and attest and sign
so easily,
so easily.

My cabinet and aides oblige me
and kiss my ass
with vain assurance,
their cajoling is seductive but
does not ring true.

If i could order all europe to smoke and ashes
and command the sun to boil the seas away,
they would all find goodly merit in such a course,
i dream of an end to this nightmare,
someone come and take this pain away.

In the mirror
i see this tight-lipped mask of humor
quite often the fool at a party,
i am often quoted.

If truth should reach print
what disguise would i contrive
to meet that delicacy,
my wife provides me no release
and has no patience with my fears.

No one clearly knows me
no one can enfold me.

I dream of an end to this nightmare,
someone come and take this pain away.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Black Holes and other Cosmic Orifices

Universe stretches like a
condom over the elusive penis of god.

In their fiery raincoats,
brilliant stars share nimble songs of desire,
planets dance throughout creation
and exploding firmaments
leave black holes and eternity
for us to ponder.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Love Song # 37

The night creeps up the
lattice of my desire,
like ginger root
impales my heart upon
your sweet endeavor,
i am tasteless without you.