Saturday, October 21, 2017

Terminal


           The moon tonight
a small sliver of the sky, mournfully
mounting an end of the day’s
funeral song

            Whispered through wires
connecting radio speakers to God’s ears
humming below audible bounds
subterranean distraction drones

            Uncovering
recovering daylight hours shine,
their shadows lurching out of morning’s
disjointed colors through surreal filters

            Cold settling
congealed solid particles bonded grief
stabilized in solution, isolated impurities pull
through resolve’s uneasy impact

            Throes ingested
they magnify all hope swayed into favor,
bleak yet brimming in consciousness
terminal drift cum obligation

            Tidal decay
movement en masse measured in sediments’
malignant and parched encroachment
carved through archaic frozen fortresses


MM 10/17

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Wavelengths


Our wavelengths
comingling,
jagged lines to frame
crucial axis
Points in cold fusion
divvied out
tension ‘cross intersecting minutes
Scattered foliage dissolves
wistful and crisp,
borne of shadows

Pale feedback loop
carving the course
we walk, divergent interests
conjoining
in some form - boilerplate
indifference
confined in the waning
spaces drawn off,
driven throughout
its dissolution

Sucking sounds,
drying finish
deadened in its hands,
in flesh arisen,
a ballast in regulation
of damnation’s determinate
flow, seepage muddled
in the surface
sinking aground
wrapped asphyxiation


MM 10/2017

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Birthmarks


This mortal assignment
drawn from images entrapped with time
lapses, like tin pan layers 
snapping back in blinding retreat
of a tape measure 

From distance a mind's eye 
only sees the black-lined quarter reaches
The edges of space determine
the depth to which the air can breathe -
it's happening in real time

The interest of reverence 
determines the full range this hollow bow
can chart fulfillment from
tacit understanding of the sacred ordained 
arrangement of order

Come forth from the space
craved and carved and created to covet
one's silken steely skin hardened,
lined with firm twine tension imprints,
binding the circulation

Blinding the movement of days
or the arrangements of isles owning
the differences, built out lifetimes
of knowing or not knowing how to fasten
a stake in opposing fields of wisdom


MM 10/2017

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Steady Hand Guides


Take this bread it’s my body
Drink this wine it’s my blood
Extend a trembling hand snatched away,
stirring up dust in a darkened space
lying behind creaking doors
rotting off their hinges
Offered in intervals bounded in service,
like sponges soaking saturation,
seedlings nurtured turning earth,
or bile regurgitated in sickness
from seething parasite
Returns remain in question


MM 9/2017

Stalking Seeds


Planted stalking seeds behind me
to watch years grow unfolding
in volumes, surrounding time
Subservient graces to upper reaches
in the arc of the shadow,
repelling light

Put miles on tread and between,
draining time from cold affronts
Awkward instruction quelling impulses,
tempering inspiration, bound
with laces of necessarily cruel choices
and judgement rendered

In living deliverance

Placated in rhymes finding
spaces to dwell the lines in validation
Redemptive finds pushing and pulling,
they drew distinct marks
met and fostered in quiet corners
shining on the surface

Journeys portended wedges
moving away from knowing places,
arising unknown or unrealized
A little surprised when expectations
held and gleaned in uncertainty
faded in the picture of years

In finite incompletion


MM 9/2017

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Sons and Ghosts


How do you hold sands’ streaming
tiny irreverent beads?
Containment irrevocable- paths etched
casted out of idealized space
filled by sons and ghosts within
their movement- fractured bounds
of wayward conviction

Staring across the table
an abyss of expectations unfilled
steps taken in haste and backed off
in words not said nor met
in immediate formations
Their foundation laid in parallel
fragments defrayed

Borne of static spaces
lying between containment and engagement
and resting restless within arrangements
disjointed discomfort’s
hush falls over its scene
heads bowed in grace
clearing of the throat

Cut from the same genes
but not the same colorful spaces
they remain largely unexplored in sorts
like demilitarized zones
Staring now at depth and limitations
illuminated down into your numbered days
I see my own mortality


MM 9/2017

Death Screens


Death screens laid out in visions
of moments alive from not-so-recent past
posted in emotive pensive recollections
tied together interpretations
terse or expansive but bounded
in a living breathing document

Fleeting as a moment’s breath
drawn in a chilling autumn morning
drawn closer immediacy beckoning
comments and concepts drawn
into the tapestry of a series of events
your eyes just can’t turn away from

Just leave this eulogy here
in a public record no one sees after
today without reminders
of the specks of lucent moisture
littered across the web in static
beacons giving rise to conscious states


MM 9/2017