seeing/saying: March 2013

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Easter brought a detour

The end of the road was closed

Due to a damaging storm

Driven back

I threaded home

Through the shrouds

Arisen

Their torches followed

Too eager for a pentecost

And chambered empty

For a flickering death

I was called

Thomas

Waiting for his wound

To open

Tom McGlynn

Saturday, March 30, 2013

We were never happy like that

Smiling for posterity

When we succumbed

To mirrors

It always looked

One way

Something

In the space

Of familiar

Portraits

Leaves

Something

To be desired

I don't regret that

Chemistry

All made up

For the other

Tom McGlynn

I don't have time for this

In place of Friday

I've set a tier

Pointed all

To stage.

Surfacing needs

Paving mind

When the tremors

Rend their way

Coursing through

My leafy blood

Waters all it sees

Tom McGlynn

Friday, March 29, 2013

There were some real issues

There were some real issues
With rags and exhaust

That could not be

Driven through

Not so safe

In sconced

Apartment

Flickering, flickering

Gangly grace

A neat

Old fashioned

Couldn't stem

That lusty

Pull

Pull, Pull

Thin as

Cigarette

Out of

Long afternoons

Burning

Tom McGlynn

Plough, plough, plough

Some farmers wonder

Far too much

About the final

Sky

All that is lost

Anyway

Turns up

In folded

Vapor

This contour

Isn't inclined

To restrain

Thistles

Tom McGlynn

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Red bedclothes

Red bedclothes
Wearing dreams out

Of fire sewn

Into old patterns

Burn the rest off

Turning covers

Tom McGlynn

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

You've kept your vain

Compensation

On holiday reflex

With all good swimmers

Drowning around

The slacked surface

You call a living

Tom McGlynn

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Cached in vestal

Offering

A syllable

Unspeakable

Shakes volumes

Through the winded sheafs

Gleaning left and

Inbetween

The husbandry

Of thatching

Home

Tom McGlynn

Monday, March 25, 2013

The self-storage unit

Yawned to be filled

Full of presence

Inexchageable

And unlocked plans

Never again

To be

Carried out

Tom McGlynn

With care interred

The holy grove

Regained its crushing

Mossy swell

Boiling water

In the clove

Finds the fishes

Unaware

Cedar stains

In foggy panes

Close about

The frockless

Stand

Tom McGlynn

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Ain't going there

To study

War

No more

Defense

Deport

Meant

No fodder

For my

Mule

Tom McGlynn

Saturday, March 23, 2013

My 16th year of song

Cries from more

Than this 11th hour

Buzzing

Tom McGlynn

A dun spring hare

On the tawny path

Wound unbolted

In the way

The crows

That gamble

In the hedges

Haunt their chance

At calling home

Narrow gauged

An unfit track

Tangs this neck

Of lonely wood

Tom McGlynn

Cross cement pond grasps

Some irrational bream

Flipping bravery

No slime has left

Detour

All sense and no

Slipped stream

Rubbing raw

The pore

Tom McGlynn

Friday, March 22, 2013

I wouldn't hover where

My ascendant

And shadowed

Suspension of cast

Sinks like a

Leaden present

Of false flies

And wingless

Nymphs

Tom McGlynn

The dark stained paneling

Soaks up possibility

Like black ice

Coming back

From the party

Tom McGlynn

Thursday, March 21, 2013

This is a silly place

But for such an

Unfounding floor

No need would

Arise

For smelling

Salts

Tom McGlynn

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Motherless men

Stumble through their

Accommodation

In medicated pockets

Ageless

In skipped

Initiation

An air about them

Shuns a phantom

Hand to cross

The street

Tom McGlynn

There is no restoration

Of the moon

Its sacrifice is all

Projection

Made for

Scaling

Hours

Eyed

Pearlescent

The coyotes mill

More restless

Than the shadows

Tracked from opal

Fissures

Shrill

This fuse

Suppressed

Before

The morning

Stakes

The rustled hart

Tom McGlynn

Monday, March 18, 2013

Runnel spitting

Rain betrayed by

Frozen mouths

Once again reminds

Faithless greys

Of their value

A city of windows

Stacked and

Puddled

Gathers the low

And moaning sky

Around its shuddered

Ranks

My dropping glance

Leans into it

Like a hoe boy

Shouldering

A spray of lead

Tom McGlynn

As the embankment thaws

So the train sounds

Cutting through this deep

Shed of ice and winter

Apples

All the sleepers

In wood

Groan

In warning

Stretches

The chore

Of cutting

Beats a rail

From backward

Kneeling rushes

Tom McGlynn

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Displace the tongued

Impediment

Worry the fitted slab

A vein exposed

Will crack

The coping stone

Unhire the hesitance

Of the cobbled crier

Routed blind

And retolling a way

Already sited

All throat now

Rise in vortice

Joinery

Falling about

The spinning

Well

Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

The pore of evening

Takes in all

Light air

To make a

Heave

Of staying late

Open

A string of

Lights

Fails to

Relive

The dark

Bricks and mortar

Wake violently

In their sleep

Nothing breaks

Until a bark

Sweeps by

In night

Pursuit

Tom McGlynn

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Mike the super

Was almost gutted

On the landing

By junior

His mother most likely

Called him

Miguel

Junior too

Diminished

In name

Too a son of

Boricua

Tried to get across

That his mami

Should not be

Misbegotten

With the only tool

He knew

To fix a screwed

Situation

Tom McGlynn

Friday, March 15, 2013

Rose leaves baroque

Still in their offering

Take the shape

Of the red glass vase

You brought

To my shock

At the door

Tom McGlynn

From race to drop

The crest of sink

Asphodel scattered

Green of reflection

Banging out

A rhyzmic tole

With all detaining furrows

Patterned

They sprayed

As the rush distilled

Tom McGlynn

I would watch

From my blind

If I could

For the meek

The earth is

A sure investment

The dust is

Indifferent

To direction

These blind walls

Are turned blue

From divining

Motes

Tom McGlynn

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

The slovenly grooms

Tipped in stable

Tack

Neglect to mind

Their frogs

A brace

Of slatted

Maids

Tender props aloft

Splay tick bitten

And restless

The milk rats

Bide their time

Until the goatsucker
Calls

Tom McGlynn

Nothing graceful proceeds

Any given credence

To this here story

It's not for me to steep

Your twisted line

Beyond my poor

Capacity

Nor for you to

Refine

The stay

The wind

Will have its

Meeting

Trussed as we air

In knotted span

This gulf retains

A purpose

Tom McGlynn

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Grasping at night

Smoke sifts into

A living pallor

Chambered by

The used rooms

Of stooped

Purpose

Escaped from

A valence lost

To deflection

Of an early

Son

Take hold

Of this breath

It bates you

Suspended in

Its pacing

All incident

Is folded

On the kitchen

Table

The caress

Of rosy fingers

Is too remembered

Here

Tom McGlynn

She stored in stolid apertures

She stored in stolid apertures
Never carrying abroad
Resolved in beaded eyes
A diamond cutting soul
A bird in the house
Worth a field of bees
Gabled in her
Earthly cote

Tom McGlynn

Monday, March 11, 2013

As the conference lets out

On an ill-suited afternoon

A linger of ants

Circles around

The poor sidewalk

To take what they can

Get away with

An early spring

Is not called forth

While a box

Of winter dirt

Remains

Tom McGlynn

In the beginning

Was worn

A borrowed stole

Unclothing mass

In history

Its pleats betraying

Mystery

A place before

A perfidy

But everything rising

Cannot hold

In altitudes

Of experience

Beyond all tailored

Innocence

Is that which

Bears on

Gravity

Tom McGlynn

Saturday, March 9, 2013

A lightletting floor

Stretched across the clicking wood

Of an impatient room

Slants in joining a foot

And its own skittish value

Sawn trees being too abstract

To clime

Tom McGlynn

Friday, March 8, 2013

This I'll run out

A soft part of hair

A sheet of rain in a pile of snow

Boots that don't reach the floor

Both hands on the table

A space between heads

Bad pop music

Researched décor

Modern couples

An open chill

A ruined son

Stroller wives

An expectant smile

Distracted suitors

These here assembled parts

All made of a place

Of waiting

This I'll run out

Tom McGlynn

Thursday, March 7, 2013

One of my epic tragedies

Is the lack of play

And time I gave

To the stories

You petitioned

In my own fifth year

I would tell the hours

Spent inside

A hunchbacked

Charnel house

A tortured foundling

Seeking love

And forever

Abiding there

It seems the slack

Of lash required

To bind a world

Into a comfort

Or a distress

Slips my

Inquisition

Now

Tom McGlynn

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

The curs behind the hotel

On the cliff above the cueva

Get no bones

From the offal

Takeaway man

A clip- winged toucan

Trips upside down

And round again

On its perch

A jungle toy

For long distance

Children

On the playa

The pigs keep

The pueblo at

Bay

Tom McGlynn

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

It was not significant at the time

Then we would just assume

History

Melting a plastic Sterling

Bomber

As token of all those ritual

Raids

A victim of primitive

Design

The past was not efficient enough

To escape our boyish imagination

Desultory on a summer day

Studying unsupervised

What has become of that afternoon

Burned out of history's belief

We are tokens

Ourselves now

Inefficient

Tom McGlynn

Who would suspend

The pursuit of

Happiness

For a past time

Prophet

Dying to be lead

Out of mind

Changed to

A field of

Gold

No man

Lands lightly

But less heavy is

Removed

Seeped back into

Things

With space to fill

Neither happy nor sad

But still

This curt rock

Tooled in anxious

Wandering

Shapes the pursuit

Of sustenance

The artifact seeking

Its own

Tom McGlynn

Waiting for the interview

Waiting for the interview
A sense of self so rarified

Renews a long held

Fealty

Sealed in cryptic

Reverie

Tom McGlynn

Monday, March 4, 2013

A band of seraphs circling

The square

Box of ceiling

Chain their arabesque

To an unreasonable

Expectation of flight

Spun within

This arch room

Of chambers

Their net affect

Comes winged

Down

The supporting

Refrain

From their spherical

Song

Echoes in vaulting

Unaware

Cull me an angel

To model for

My descent

And I'll do

My best

To believe

In it.

Tom McGlynn

Stiff in bed

My ribs clench

Imprisoning sobs

Meant much earlier

For parole

This is the body

We each have shared

Mine wrought from

Imagined futures

Yours both now

Lines in this poem

Moving through

Unreal time

The lag of heavy

Missing

Comforts like

Your lyric arms

Tom McGlynn

Sunday, March 3, 2013

You reel your hands

Around in space

A chord conducting

All my airs

Contained in this

One string

Tom McGlynn

In the care of our children

We were miserably abandoned

Brought up to nurture

A father shackled in his passage

And a mother too distraught

To enter her own forgiveness

These reasons are playthings

Put away for the sake of

Survival and their specific weight

Clearing those even moments

Where we still might entertain

The transport of a vagrant orphan

Tom McGlynn

The worn spot

Extending

From the March tree

Has exposed all the suckers

Clattering for spring

And their early death

Tom McGlynn

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Motion- sensitive wood thrushes

And song sparrows

Traffic in Flatbush

Hiding places

Perpetually prompt

In their territory

Hanging- on Brooklyn corners

Tom McGlynn

The chopping music

Of your spending youth

Breaks a silence

Not made for

Cutting time

The empty box

You've made

Your apartment

Vibrates in stopped notes

The floor shakes

Beneath my thoughts

When I shudder to recall

Your open breaths

Tom McGlynn

Friday, March 1, 2013

This white wall

Has so many coats

The heart put in

Doesn't seem worth

What's lost underneath

When the night bulb

Crawls across its

Lime parched web

A scraping of bones

Is heard in passing

That bitch in the yard

Needs another hollow

To hide its yelps

When the tree

Of heaven

Cracks

Tom McGlynn

I would like this

To be reported

As the place

Where I was

Disappeared

Your company

Is requested

To forward

The news

Tom McGlynn