"Heaven has a road, but no one travels it; Hell has no gate, but men will bore through to get there."

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

A Walk With Jim Carroll

There are no sharp needles
Only jagged tidal waves
Walled grey and sharp-
Impenetrable to passion,
Washing the spirits off my beach
Prompting a ghostly exodus
Wounding without touching-
Surgical and cold,
Smelling only of salt and stone.
Wishing for a shadow of your absence
To glide along beside me...
Making jokes out of the gloom
Poking over-embraced nihilism
With the jagged edge of your smile-
Or half of one- so ironic--
Dark fighting darkness-
Daring to ask questions
Of the dim Lords of Sadness.
Sitting in the fishbowl window,
Lost in smokey coffied blackness
Awaiting a glimmering to shine-
Bright, in sight, turning right--
Toward strange slight glimpses
Of imagined wholeness-
A unity defying all discordant sounds
Splashing up to me
From glittering rain washed streets
Empty, silent, free-
Redeemed only now
And by the faintest touch
Of invincible light.

tip it

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

Friday, November 11, 2011

Maremoto/Seaquake by Pablo Neruda

Touch this harvest:
here my hands worked
diminutive tombs of salt
destined for beings and substances,
ferocious in their livid beauty,
in their limestone stigmas,
because they will feed us
and other beings
with so much flowering and devouring light.

Here, being and not being were combined
in radiant and hungry structures:
life burns and death passes
like a flash of lightening.
I am the only witness
to the electricity and the splendor
that fills the devouring calm.

D's B-