Monthly Archives: January 2011

Sketch

The dog tracks after him…a plaited plastic band,
cast away by a newsboy, serving as a leash.
The hobo – bum say some – has found a comrade.
Sharing their silences, food and time,
dog and man roam the city’s endless by-ways.
They ride this ferry every day,
among wagging heads and mumbles,
upturned noses, unseeing eyes.
Hey! Pay attention! Let’s grace them with a smile.
Soon Time will pass us by. A smile costs nothing!
But with a grimace, you open a breach
For more grief to enter the world.

*             *             *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011

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The Artist’s Plight

Etched by acid hours, lines limn age
upon the artist’s face. Beauty’s stern pursuit
furrows wisdom in the brow’s quick marble.
Solely of time’s hard count it’s not,
but skein and map of the soul’s vagaries
through this world, of the heart’s rough route.
If every defeat and hope full-fouled
were each a babe, we could people whole new worlds!

*             *             *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011

Goodbyes

Cut flowers dance
with the wind no longer nimbly
for the jealous sun to see.
With severed necks they sleep,
tokens of life in tepid water.

Such are goodbyes: blossoms benumbed,
plaintively seeking an attentive eye,
that stir at the chill of a cough,
the warmth of a sigh. They try to speak up,
but only shed tears siphoned from the urn
in which they molder, forever lost.

*           *           *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011

like a raptor

like a raptor come for me
on a fluttering of wings
the breast’s white storm
to pluck me from this reverie
the winter sun   a song within your eyes
your hair the shadow of my joy
yours is the fire in the goshawk’s blood
the mastery of eagles’ earthward plunge
the wind rent asunder while your hands
cleave to and cleave my flesh my dreams
lovely beast   doom-slayer   oh stalker of my heart
like a raptor come for me

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011

Lovers’ quarrel

With silent sorrows’ thread
spun from forgotten fruits
of acts equally forgotten,
my lips you’ve sewn tight shut.
Yet how you wonder why I do not speak!
Not that I will not – I cannot. Don’t you see?
Oh love! My mummery’s stitched up
the lids of your searching eyes!

*          *          *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011

no sense denying (for Lan)

no sense denying this heart of cloud am i
steadfast inconstancy, ghost of vapor and dust
i could be your shield against the sun
and, oh, would i rain on you!
or shall i be but an airy toy,
a string-less cosmic kite
in the crosswinds of your every whim
better as i am this supple clay
this sundered substance of your dreams
no use denying this heart of mine is yours

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011

Bay of Nha Trang

The wind weaves night and fog meeting the tide.
The harbor lights – fixed and moving
of homes and skittering boats –
peer through mist and spray. Voices rise and fall,
like buoys on the bay, tolling and telling
where and why and when. Drone of engines, thrusts of prow…
The boat plays victor, power carrying the day.
Water, wind and mist laugh, and laughing, give way.

*             *             *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011