Poems
I didn’t know Mary was dead.
(No one told me about Maya, either) A blank
Pause when I read about it online.
Poets don’t go out when we die.
(We live with Death while we live.)
We stay home.
Which is why when Walt said to me
(The other day)
That to die is luckier than I suppose;
I believed him.
~ Wynn ~
Snow last night.
Treetops
Rooftops
Road signs
Topped
Powder sugared
Magnificent.
Why scrub away Autumn's mess?
Let it soak.
Snow like scrubbing bubbles,
When they melt the mess goes with them.
Some metaphors stink.
Some similes are like scrubbing bubbles,
To do their best work,
Let them sit a bit.
Scroll down and forget 'em.
Come back when you can see clear,
What shines under the sludge,
What Springs Eternal.
~ Wynn ~
Y Nt Rn?
Where’s your ambition?
Where’s your ambition?
Why are the lights still out on tomorrow?
Where is the New Home?
The New Friends?
The New Love?
Where’s the Money?
Why is life OTW?
Life is rn not otw.
Why is life always otw w u?
Y nt rn?
Y otw?
Y s lf otw,
Wynn,
lf
s
rn?
“Life is not about what you’re going to do.
Life is about what you’re doing, right now.
So, what are you doing right now?”
~ Wynn ~
"Soneto XVII
o te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño."
Pablo Neruda
For Pablo, For You
I don’t love you like salt rose, topaz
Or a detonation of carnations that set fire wild-
Like assured obscured impressions love.
I love you -in secret- between shadow and soul.
I love you like a plant that does not bloom,
But carries hidden within, the light of its flowers,
And thanks to your love, the secret scent
Of the Earth’s kept-safe love, lives in me.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or where.
I love you direct- without problems or pride:
I don't know any other way to love.
Their way says I am not you, nor you me,
But your hand on my chest is my breath,
Your eyes close to be my dream.
~ Wynn ~
Watching loons at Massabesic Lake while other people fall in love.
Pastel dusk sky.
Orange is only ever beautiful next to lavender.
Traffic. So much at once.
People and problems come in clusters.
Headlights off the water brings
The Night Sky whisper close.
He’s got a message for you:
It’s The Secret of The Moon.
He’ll tell you if you stop.
He told me, of course,
But asked me not to tell.
Next time stop,
Listen as if your life depends on it.
It does.
~ Wynn ~
I’m crazy for a certain Muse.
This real body corporeal.
Sacrosanct, corporeal.
My sense jumped
At the sound of fireworks.
A grand finale
Here you are again.
A gain for one spirit
Dancer heart entrancer.
So much power.
My flower.
Your skin petal soft Cotton
Covered stomach peach fuzz fire.
Under breast and nip
And neck ear lip and lip
And tongue in
Then in more.
Only word in the world:
More.
We never end.
We never leave but believe.
This body is a king's castle.
You are my queen.
My most beloved,
Most powerful peace.
~ Wynn ~
What the heart wants is a slow dance;
The floor is too fast.
A touch too quick is friction in the brush.
The pulse grinds steel against jagged steel
Short shock sparks mis-labeled matchboxes
For a miss-matched lit match.
But the heart wants a slow dance
Friction-less fire.
The hot before the touch.
The heat that brings the communion.
So many ways to say I want you.
Why's lust always fire?
The flower devours the rain.
The wind wants the seed.
The Earth swallows every tree.
How can anyone (anywhere) win anything
Without you right here with me?
The heart wants a slow dance.
Demands one: Now!
Slow slows the strong song of thunderclouds.
Lightning! Flash-spark! Light show!
Wonderful!
But:
Real power rocks
Rolls, growls, grows
Insatiable immediate
Clouds, loud clouds.
Hold. Want.
Hard. Hard.
Until the sky
Can't
Hold. Want.
More. More.
Goes hot
a
Lightning Shot.
The thunder
Shocked, starts
The slow roll
Again.
~ Wynn ~
Spin, The World
To follow a dream is to be fed by that dream
Daydreaming is not a lonely laze.
To sit still and listen, to follow a dream is to be fed by that dream.
Here I am so many dreams stacked up, but only one.
Still that roaring tide where the want of you matches the dreams envy of the possible touch of you.
How insistent the dreamspace of you is! Even the whirl of each fan reminds, "Still it's her... Still, it's her...."
I continue words to you, and the fans continue, "He's doing his job, he's doing his job, he's doing his job."
As if you are preordained by The Holy Ghost Himself and I charged with this epic fantastical fantasy to reach you.
So many days in and the dream's want of you and the skin's want of the dream, become the same thing.
I am a lifetime of quiet sleepless hot dreams of you.
My urge for you is your touch. My desire, our covenant called 'maybe someday if the world might move a certain way.'
If Atlas' choice to shrug could shake the world to sense the sensible definition of a good life,
If his shake would quake awake the recognition that one element every story must have is hope,
Then to remember each life is a single story in a grand tale called Life, and even the world itself could not spin without hope.
And so, I spin with the World with the hope for you.
~ Wynn ~