Car Lust Wings

--
fingers obsess
over a mind gone blank

memory of morning
draws random lines
over garments flung
across the restroom

last chance gas
by the turnpike ramp
glows neon regret
in the guidance twilight

western wheels
doggedly roll east
for takeoff along
endless, abandoned runways
--

Mourning Pages Further

--
(--on the margins of the lifeshow
as it ganders pulling focus, all is all: )

routing vessel, pressure yields to waste
over mumbing transport insults
where metaphor & meaning hobble--

the heart would feed the limbs out of its bird-hands
while head pretends a valve in failing faith

here is the room, here the misspent lode of solitude
sold into blind wells by scarcity & marker-bed floods

(where is the balance gear to roll the rusty loader
past the hurdles spiking the tumbler path?)
room is no room if abstract space lose ground

foam & roam, room to room: a land anchor out of paper folds

all is all, more is more & never the twain shall meet
in this fractured, dwindling life from bed to verse
in one fell swoop of dictionary desire

even off odd culverts by the piled debris
nothing is forgotten, nothing is forgiven

a simple game of all-too-serious tossers
gambling higher stakes away
--

Margins of the Mourning Page

--
on the margins of the spectacle of life
as it meanders & pushes
into focus, all is all--

routing is vessel & pressure yields to waste only
over muttering of vascular insults
where metaphor & coherence are compromised

the heart would feed the limbs out of its bird-hands,
the head pretending valves in failing faith

here is the room, here is the misspent critical resource of solitude
cornered into addictive isolation by scarcity & marker-bed flooding

(I don't know-- how do I find out what I don't know--
how can I act on what I need to find out in discomfort rush--
where is the balancing gear to roll the crumbling loader
among the spiking hurdles tumbled on the path?)

room is no room if abstracted space loses ground

foam & roam, room to room, a land anchor out of paper folds...

all is all, more is more & never the twain shall meet
in this fractured, dwindling life
from bed to verse in one fell swoop of dictionary desire

even along odd culverts by the piled debris
nothing is forgotten, nothing is forgiven

a simple game of all-too-serious tossers
gambling higher stakes away
--

Wolf House, Glen Ellen

--
As far as small-town watering holes go, the Wolf House might effortlessly lay claim to an impeccable, nearly unmatchable cultural pedigree, referencing as it does Jack London's burned-out dream home up the hill & the capricious relationship between popular literature & its cinematic equivalents with posters advertising near-forgotten adaptations of the author's texts, both less known & famous...

Limping into Blogland: Inventory Season

--
Memory plays increasingly dirty tricks on us as we age...or did someone pick the lock & pilfer some of my stored wines?

After nearly three years, I finally return to California, ostensibly with the primary purpose of doing inventory & culling from my total of a possible baker's dozen cases of wine in storage...

First stop: El Camino wine lockers in Atascadero, where the older purchases slumber in climate-controlled comfort. Pulliing bottles from boxes & styrofoam cradles, tearing off newsprint, there are a few surprises:

Where is the Oracle Oaks Valdiguié? When did I drink it, then? What about the Carparone Sangiovese? I don't believe I drank the Biale Old Crane Ranch Zin, or the Graziano Zin or Carignane...is my memory failing that badly? What gives?

Still, here is Lazy Creek's lovely Gewürtztraminer-- from 2005, we will see-- taste-- how it's held up. From the same vintage year, a couple Central Coast Viogniers-- from Marilyn Remark & deRose-- clock in over 15% ABV. Yikes.

(à suivre...)
--

Tiempo de Bolero

--
con cada sorbo lloroso
el hombre tragaba un diente

no recuerdo cómo supe
reconocer el ritual

por contener el reflejo
de secretos derramados
la mutua soledad vibrante
levantaba enemigo muro
con masculinos ladrillos

reconocernos mudos marcaba
el sendero de los miedos

casi olvido la tonada
que otro disco machacaba
rallado sin letra ni acentos--

Lo Divino Lo Divino Lo Divino
--

Carga de Amores

--
porque la madre ordena silencio
escondo la lengua y quemo memoria
para rimar señales de humo ajeno

cuanto recuerdo aún busca forma
si la rinde: rinde forma deshecha
por una búsqueda incansable

desde su nacimiento fuera del pesebre
donde los animales lloran
tras cada prestado antifaz de carnaval

opuestos o contrarios los deseos
alimentan mortales sueños
plurales de raíz, consolados

por general condición compartida
en trascendencia quebrada
contra el abstracto cielo

no encuentro certidumbre ni prole
para paliar el dolor fragmentario
de tu ausencia borrosa y borrada

volver a producir y generar es ley
que late rota y nos condena
sumisos y rebeldes por igual
--

Homesearch Fool

--
through aimless focus & fog of anxiety
I rehearse diagnoses:

more than one rational etiology
(or preemptive pathology?

for systemic constellations to
bestow vertical certainty)

hierarchies, higher are keys
to revolted kingdoms of abundance

where fascinated mirrors repeat
Dedalus apologising, O!

first bloody Stephen
to be continued
--

Final Winter Flow

--
YES I am stingy with fear, even
out of line
begrudging stimulant prod & prescription
placebo-love rations
that fuel fiery breath to mark a page with runes
at every double-edged purr

I end where I begin: a blurry dream
of the decisive step
on a forest track of saplings, bent & snapping
unbroken to wear our secret out

so I remind myself you never loved me
as every day I need
to remind myself: you never loved me

AND yet & still
five score & a couple more long years on
the timeful scrape of your skin
traces enduring outlines of yearning lack
in the clotted pour of my desire
--