An American on a train - ghazal

I can be whatever I please for a while, an American on a train

I can snarl and trip little kids in the aisle, an American on a train

If the moon is chasing my werewolf phase I can slip into clouds of oubli

In German or French I can fool them and smile, an American on a train

See them skim in and out without knowing the stories I spin about them, about me

I marry them, wait for them, love single file, an American on a train

With the lurching I fall into strangers and laps but the smilepardons set us aright

And I know I'm still me, even stacked in a pile, an American on a train

I am old enough now I can snap them all up in my memory-washed rainbow traps

All they see is my middle-aged blandself, sans guile, an American on a train

When the fancystrike hits me just so, I can make my own movie at grandmagic speed

Stardraped with blinding invisible style, an American on a train

Where we go doesn't matter. The rushing makes bitterness sweet if I watch it askew

The hopewaking comes to me mile after mile, an American on a train.

The nightwords

The nightwords speak themselves and they fall

            into the middle of the absent days.

The  nightwords sing you to fear and wonder, smalleyes,
            the songdollies count you to overtime. Let it go.

The nightwords count to forty-five and then they go rounding up

            daughters-in-law for the long widowhood.

The nightwords rhyme when they are not paying attention

            and they interrupt each other when they are.

The nightwords change every night but the beat, the beat

            says I am the nightwords, listen or don't.

The nightwords speak babbletalk when you look straight at them

            and blank uni-verse when you look away.

The nightwords are old words cracking and respelling themselves

            long before the reform is passed.

The nightwords don't remember tomorrow any better than you do

            but they run, they run, and they are going to get there first.

Livepoem on the Frankfurt-Berlin train

Livepoem on the Frankfurt-Berlin train

featherstreaks greenstreaming
field, field, flatsudden
slowcar, slowcar, lacquerswap white, blue, silver, square

brakebuzzing bushylines, bluecloudy hanging,
bumpbodies rustle, droopylines down,
cross-swishing, knotgrenaded above the stopslowing.

breathwaiting, squeal, and the stop comes full.
stillhouses, brickbeauties, rosejigglers, left and right a place,
weedbodies goldreaching, slow, jerk slowmore, fastbuilding slow.

brightwaver flagripple, greenmetal linepatterns
aah, graffiticlouds, outside is dustyblah, inside is
life, babylegs, armholders, oldfaces, carrybox threateners
outside is longstreaking goldrests, greensheaves,
brownhuddle cowpatience
and - gone.

every field with the mystery curve
the swingfurrow what-hiding green, gold, deeper
the greenmetal brighterflat, field of the
three-bladers skycutting one, twolong, three. one, twostripe, three.

chocolate-box X-houses, skycutters closefacing
squealstopping here again, squarewaters swan-gleaming

sexycurve, horsegauntness, crowbatting
feathergreen closestreaking always again.

all afternoon the train, the walls,
the bodyclogged aisle that fills and
fleshempties slow-hoping, quicksqueezing
closer and farther away.

Four-Handed Brussels

Four-Handed Brussels


Why is a waltz when plod is daily?
What is a blindness lifted?
Who is the hammering slamming one-note?
What is a growing storm?

How is the light-tripping sweetness danced?
Why all the slowing gold?
Where is the brass-tipped backhand stored?
How stop the shattering waves?

wingfoot goes flying

Big and loud wants to be quiet
colorful says don't see me! don't look!
slaphappy punchsilly slams on the brake and just about
        wrecks it all

wingfoot goes flying and yearns to be slow
yesterday barrels right through tomorrow's lacyweb
outside wants in, barking the age-old plaint of caverns
straight and flat wakes to a curly-edged dream

monster truck bursts to a lovestruck stop
reeking of mileage, trying so hard to be small
sunblue plays peek-a-cloud, where am I showing myself?
snorthappy big plays crouching unseen.

Each to each you hold my hand - ghazal

When I'm flailing topsy-turvy I beseech you, hold my hand.

All I ask is that across the snaggled breach, you hold my hand. 

When we're storming and the world is far too small to hold us both

I still love you. It's no walkfest on the beach. You hold my hand.

Please, when both of us are lurching, keep me steady with a touch

Just ignore the flameballs raging each to each. You hold my hand.

There is something that I do for you. There must be. Don't forget.

I'll be fine if you don't lecture me or preach. You hold my hand.

What is bitter now will be the thing my heart craves most of all

Though I'm thrashing at you I just want to reach you. Hold my hand.

Live-poem for sisterport

roomful of longstanders, faces on each of them
me with the five-minute mistake, later, later than should
sisterface, maybe I don't know your lookalike,
standwaiters, sitwaiters, hipshifting scufflino

******
and now a flood, the pullpeople eyewrinkled lagstepping
everywhereroom, boxyflat lowgray with smudgefinger lookthrough
which of the sistertimes will this be walkrolling?
toepointers all of us facepushing there, there,
the windowsquare suitcaseroom.

And here aha! my sisterface makes herself brightface, onething
against all the blurrymen
upglad the armbackforth, me to the worrygone slump
now just the waitstanding, hipshifting yes but it's worrygone

know-you-now smilewalkers outstepping, outstepping, outstepping
childfather hugjumps, girlgrouping pointy smiles
outswinging, outswinging gate
mewaiting slow, fine,
fuzzhaloes, shortpullers, stripechest-straps outstepping, outstepping
lastsister slowly now roomswallowed

worryback, mestanding, wonder and hipshift
sisterglimpse after all, waitstanding . . .