Conversations with an Angry Lover

there’s something so 
contemporary about loneliness,
don’t you think? where the sky crumbles
	in a flower or a 
bed beneath the moon

take a crow on a wire, for example
calling out angels, fielding interruptions

it’s the same savage desire for oneness
beyond-ness. and who can compete with that?
	who would measure our 
souls against a dove’s—a smile against the 
	dry mechanical dawn?

philosophers, intellectual grasshoppers

but, i digress…

it’s 5 in the afternoon and your 
voice reminds me of the lateness of spring
	sparrows and grapefruit wine

Steely Dan’s on FM radio. for a second i 
almost wrote, “Nirvana”

you know, everything ends that way
with the flutter of a wild blue dress or 
the marrow of a broken heart

especially now.

nothing’s lost and nothing matters
	even the contrails are 
halfway home

but these are simply abstractions.

that’s the power of being outside the moon
	orphaned in disbelief with a 
pair of rosary beads and a feather in your hair

what i really wanted to say:

i’ve recently developed a belief in 
the power of insects
in the percussions of caterpillars and
the ancient rhythms of circadian suns

silence is so pedestrian these days

15 thoughts on “Conversations with an Angry Lover

  1. Fascinating, not sure why, but it is. I’m rereading Tom Robbins’ “Fierce Invalids ….” You’d love it I think, as anyone with a special affinity for the fusion of comedy with history and philosophy and philology and insights would love anything Tom wrote. Your poem struck just the right note somehow, I’m about a quarter of the way through

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    1. Thank you. I’m delighted you enjoyed the poem, and I’m glad you put Tom Robbins back on my radar. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve visited his work. I look forward to checking out the book. Have a great day!

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  2. I love the photo…I could gaze at it for quite a while…and your words, I love how they seem to, at first, jump from point to point, without a specific rhythm..but then, that is the rhythm, isn’t it? “you know, everything ends that way with the flutter of a wild blue dress or the marrow of a broken heart”..I love this line delivered right in the middle, an image and a feeling within the music, the sounds of glorious life

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    1. Yes, that is the rhythm, in a manner of speaking. I wanted to do something a bit disjointed. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes crave that kind of poetry. Something that feels “uncrafted” or chaotic. I’m happy you enjoyed the poem. Thank you for the insightful comment.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I agree..chaos is its own flow and needs to find its way onto paper. There is relief found in the “uncrafted” and meaning discovered in the “disjointed”

        Liked by 2 people

    1. That’s very kind of you to say. Thank you. I’ve not read Donna Tartt, but I’ll certainly take the compliment. As for the last line–while I try not to analyze my own work–I’d have to say yes, silence is a companion and a quotidian affair for some of us. But, silence has also gone out of vogue (if it was ever in vogue). Social media has inserted a constant chatter, a constant stream of background noise into our daily lives, so that silence has become pedestrian, banal, even a source of uncomfortability and something many people actively seek to avoid.

      Liked by 1 person

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