Ode to an Alarm

An ode for creative writing.

You. 

You, you

Fiend; you

Harbinger of

Nothing good.

Cheery, melodic

Electronic echo

Of some poor

Early morning bird. 

First, you wake me—

I barely take note

Too deep in the dark

Frozen woods of my

Nighttime conjurings.

Like a pretty leaf

Laid flat in my path

I acknowledge

Then turn off

And turn over.

Exactly fifteen minutes roll by. 

Second, you

Disturb me—

Same tone, same key

Same hauling of

My body up

Out of the current

That carries me

Between oceans of

Night and early morn.

Irritation

Like whitecaps on

Young waves

Surges, ebbs.

Snooze again.

The very same fifteen minutes stroll past. 

Then this

Is it.

Thirdly,

I

Would like

To wring

Your

Small

Feathered

Neck.

Incessant

You

Are recalling

My jobs

And faults

Which I

Had hoped

To lay aside

For just

Five

Minutes

More.

You

Make me

Think

Of all things

Depraved

And faulty

And burdensome

And mean.

No doubt

Your mother

Pushed you early

From the nest.

Pause, squint, think.

Thank you.

Begrudging

Thank you.

If not for you

I would be late

For work.

Commiseration of Creative Minds

A villanelle written for creative writing.

Leading the gathering storm by the hand

In her white coat, the girl walked in the rain

Till she ran into the black and blue man

Stopping, her boots firmly wrinkled the land

Giving no heed to its squelching complaint

Leading the gathering storm by the hand

Both pockets bulging with her skinny hands

Ten fingers paintstained and coated with clay

Both eyes leaned up towards the black and blue man

He wore a coat with a head-to-toe span

Black as the smudges of ink on his face

Marks of a broken storm left on his hands

And his two eyes made no humble demand

Blue as the skin of a harborless bay

Hiding the hurt of the black and blue man

Inch by an inch he extended his hand

Boldly she shook it, for they were the same

Leading the gathering storm by the hand

She shared a nod with the black and blue man

Come And Get Me Please

If you inexplicably

Were to saunter through my door

Grip my shoulder, tug

Me off this pitiful pedestal

And take me, just once

In your arms, once

In your heat and heartbeat

Only once

I feel certain my soul

Would at last untangle

Its ragged and bloody strips from

The thorned, barbed wire of

Slow-passing years

And limp away down the path at last

Broken, but content

Knowing how to mend

Me and the Moon

The moon is a boxer

A crossways eye rimmed pink and blue

Wide, rolling, frenzied

Clinging to ropes of black glory.

I am a fighter

Small fists, big heart clenched

Tremulous, terrified, savage

Dancing on the brink before the bell.

Tag team, we will swing and jab and swing again.

Nighttime is our square, spectators stars, a full house.

For the good of a cause with no need to be named

We take the hits from relentless forces

Insatiable, taking us piece by piece for their own.

By minutes, surge for surge, we snatch ourselves back

And rise from the dirty floor, always, every time.

We do not allow ourselves a choice.

14.12

So late it's early
No cool side to the pillow
Such fools, both of us

Wandering Song

A wandering song came on in my ears

As the train swayed, and swung, and swayed

The sky had old man eyes, squinting

Gray like the newspapers piled by his chair

The mountains were evening wear blue

And I was big, gigantic, absolutely enormous

Big as every earthly country on the globe

The yellow and red ones full of sand

Green and beige with grass like hair

The black and blue with big hands and long arms

I was all of them, incandescent

Moving feet in time with a wandering song

Dancing down cobblestone dirt paved roadways

And the train swayed, and swung, and swayed

The Word Goodbye

Around the time
When it's time to leave
We often find that word goodbye
Difficult to please
Lightly on your lap
Legs around your waist
Keeping you captive
Like a portrait in a picture frame
Tilt up your head
To expose a smug smile
And meet me halfway
For the longest kiss goodbye

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