Fractured Compass

July 5, 2006

Two Voices

Filed under: Poems and Other Trifles — roundapple @ 2:50 pm

vocalics

sibilants sound the bells,
herald the spit that speeds
away from smirked lips.
gutturals follow on
their heels, grudging
grief that hides its other
fricatives. should phonemes
be parallel to thought,
desire and anger then
would be palatal philo-
sophies from the cornered
mouth, wisdom punctuated
by glottal stops.

insomnia

at midnight, the only sound
is the click of an un-
tutored finger that moves
like a metronome, typing
words who only whisper
their meaning if i make them
a part of my speech. only then
does a sliver of laughter
crack the air, disturbing
the smug room, ruffling
the linen which wraps silence
like two hands that love
each other, before settling
down to sleep, waiting
for the sound of dreams.

Frames

Filed under: Poems and Other Trifles — roundapple @ 2:49 pm

zeno built motion
on stillness, and still
his notion holds – film,
for instance, where frame
after frame is movement.
the photo taken in an instant
flits quietly, drifts
unnoticed, sits in a corner,
teasing memory to forget.
cezanne’s fruits ripen
before the eyes. murder
is replayed in black and white
in one man’s guernica.

June 17, 2006

Two Shorts

Filed under: Personal,Poems and Other Trifles — roundapple @ 8:55 am

waiting

that this leads to no-
where is clear now. each
in its own spot, cars
form the vertebra of a cobra
refusing to slither
when only a moment ago
it had a different intention,
one can only twist
to cool the glued butt.
engines flare like tempers.
passengers sit dreaming of
antivenom, wait for the burning sun
to melt the scales.

archeologos

words trip on the tongue,
to a personal saraband,
slip away from the mouth,
fly into airspace – curious
creatures of mind’s fever,
tentative like dawn’s yellow,
till they see the vast
blue, then soar like rogue
laughter. pen, like a camera,
makes rote attempts
at copy, captures only
outlines. how quickly they
become ancient fauna, ptero-
dactyls on paper.

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