Among Ourselves

The family of persons
   that is I
is like other families:
a collection of ones
who didn't all do the collecting,
and who indulge in mutual
disapprobations most often
without breaking the peace.

We haven't brought ourselves
to that new fashion,
family councils,
making do
with old power games
that cannot be heard
through the walls.

9/23/77

Continuing Among Ourselves

One member of my complex
doesn't so much wear a mask—
being faceless—
as she forever bedevils
this other member
into taking cover
under matt-brown bugshells
or mothdust,
scolding
every time she slips her cloak
and comes forth.

10/25/77

an unhooked generator

no needs anymore
not that anything is suppressed
pistoned down for a spark to explode
more like unhooking everything at hand
crawling through the computer unplugging like mad
breaking every live circuit
like a goddamn self-lobotomy
only irony operates full force
and someone in there with a lost circuit
cries soundlessly

c. 1974 - ref. to 2001: A Space Odyssey

Silence

In gale-heaved waves
—weight in motion—
Moby Dick yields to current,
Queen Mary rides, a splinter.

I've an ocean in a jar;
my hand stops its mouth.

2/13/72

Still Moon

Clouds, raveling apart, broke
Over the moon; edges like smoke
Blew past it. The busy sky
Pushed eastward while I
And a full lightless moon hung
Removed, unmoved, dumb.

c. 1973

Marigold

I am a great big giant marigold.
See me smile.
A regular orange jubilee.
Fully doubled blooms in deep vibrant color.
A hybrid miracle straight out of the latter day saints.
All-American sunburst celebration, me.
Shade your eyes from my wholesome glowing vibrancy.
Sting your nose with my fresh strong scent.
I smell like a green awakening.
Bruise me and lay your tongue on the ooze
there is no sweetness
but I bloom and bloom and bloom
pulling the bitters from this soil
scorching the sky back
smearing the wind with my message
there is no sweetness

c. 1974, published in 1976

Reviews

When my mother sees my work, she'll say my god, my Carole Jean,
Born in an April blizzard when Ray couldn't get home,
The baby who cried in hunger all that first summer suckling me
While I worked my huge garden, weeds getting away from me,
Vegetables to can in a sweltering kitchen of steaming jars,
Sweating away my milk while she cried.
My crooked-toothed, frowzy-haired little tyke
Posing sun-frowned beside her very own row of poppies,
Now grown into this bad woman.

She'll show it to my dad; he'll say O lord
I may as well have let her stay home
Sitting in church jaw-set, eyes on the floor, will-crossed,
Thinking up arguments against sermon points she pretended not to hear
Lord knows whether she's done all that stuff she's written
Or if she plagues the mind of God with perverted dreams
To scout out the most annoying sin of all before bothering to do it.
That kid with my name, mad
Because she didn't get the whole name reversed, Carole Rae.
fighting me will for will through the years,
Waking me once at 5:00 A.M. with twenty-minute fried eggs,
Now grown into a hard-fried battler
Still avenging that damned dog she thought Got killed.

Published in Lyrical Iowa, 1975

Warning

My home is a raft
           Floating on gasoline;
Don't anybody smoke.

           Great flammable facts
                       Nobody knows
           Roll under smooth boards.

My marriage is a gold velour
           Pulled over rotted wood
Don't anyone let a cat in.

           A conventional union
                       Worn with years
           To comfortable pose.

My life is a membrane
           Stretched taut and thin;
Don't anybody breathe.

           Sand mountains balanced
                       On either side
           Waiting to shift.

My soul is a spark
           Between two points;
Don't anyone be tinder.

c. 1970. Published in North Country Anvil, No. 13, October/November, 1974, p. 94

open house

open to wild winds whipping through
sandblasting siding
ragging an old curtain left behind
slamming doors, rubbling plaster
dusting over shards of glass
thinning out the human smells
of whatever once was there

c. 1973