tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57783298056759769392024-03-09T10:46:28.256-08:00Comment Is WelcomeCarter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.comBlogger326125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-2093368827595053582024-03-09T10:45:00.000-08:002024-03-09T10:45:32.207-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Spatial
Planes</span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">I was part of
the crowd,<br />
watched bombs fall from<br />
dream state shoreside,<br />
said nothing,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Saw veins of
concrete open,<br />
spiling tar, oil fumes haze<br />
like the anchorage of<br />
ships capsized.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">I lost heart
and will,<br />
for much more of the screaming,<br />
much more than the ranconteur’s<br />
words could extend.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Approach in the
wedding dress aura,<br />
beckon back to homefront comforts:<br />
the forgetting of what happened walls<br />
beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Pausing, stand
across and shape,<br />
we whirled in the April skies,<br />
setting off storms;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Your voice
didn’t break the<br />
cacophony, grim sights paces away;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">It came like
balms from<br />
crosstown market, kept in<br />
mason jars, pulled out<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">When keeping
together got too<br />
great for tender ears to<br />
hear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">It forges a
hardness,<br />
a bloodless unwelcome<br />
to these nights.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-78780242450908082132023-12-20T11:11:00.000-08:002023-12-20T11:11:47.738-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Firework
Scars</span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">I stepped by
the waterfall,<br />
memories restless, awakened<br />
from induced night slumber,<br />
drugged with bottle contents<br />
until the pain of tears vanished<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Until the misery
of wrought hands,<br />
twisted iron becomes but another<br />
breath catching exercise, a cleared<br />
throat from pasts immemorial to<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Walk beside in
space and time<br />
to final resting. A blackout<br />
after wounded crackle of static<br />
on the airwave, a signal taken<br />
too little from words<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">We passed as
codes in dark<br />
corners, back and forth through<br />
wire fence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">A look at the
roadkill, the tar<br />
paper pine, the burn rubber leavings<br />
of last year’s party favour revolution<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Tells of
nothing, save regretted<br />
rancor: the lonely scribe dying<br />
with his head firmly perched<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">To righteous
side he’d never take<br />
in fear of too much certainty.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-39881300456743484592023-12-20T10:09:00.000-08:002023-12-20T10:09:36.229-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">On Lost
Truth</span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Silt in memory,
rubbish<br />
pile to sift through,<br />
weights heavy with worse desires,<br />
same circle drawn in place;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">No longer one,
lost heart,<br />
wasting water, air, time with<br />
pre-drawn places, stopping<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Distance. Wished
for greater stature<br />
life, found it wanting, found it<br />
misplaced and bedridden with<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Murky calling
of mystic charlatans,<br />
words I cannot recall from lacking<br />
state. Feel no longer embers,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Only coal dust,
sweeping wounds;<br />
I am not afraid to vanish,<br />
just to break the waves,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Like cries from
an orchestra pit<br />
(drip sweat down forehead, lip<br />
wince), calls for warmth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">I am afraid of
not enough,<br />
in these bones to bury them<br />
aloft, highly favoured in places<br />
hallowed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-89449276735317336172023-08-25T13:07:00.003-07:002023-08-25T13:07:33.071-07:001 New Poem<p> <b><u><span lang="EN-BZ">Fragile
Places</span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-BZ">A hidden
stamp in mirror walls,<br />
I walk afresh dawn up the<br />
ground floor cavern, tucked-away<br />
slots in Morningside Heights<br />
chill.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-BZ">Shuffle in
smart-shoed attire,<br />
cooking speckle-shined for this<br />
crowded exchange, flipping off<br />
a switch in time to save me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-BZ">From when
that love of brickwork<br />
and high places started to fade<br />
into fantasies of pushing, jumping,<br />
leaping, into the floating fire<br />
escape.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-BZ">I trap the
madness in champagne<br />
expression, glancing pleasantries<br />
tracing the wax of shoelaces,<br />
the falling of triple-redundant<br />
words to marble floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-BZ">A breath
outside imagined, cigarettes<br />
and motor oil combining in sweat<br />
sense; makes the moving go by<br />
quicker, picture-perfect marking<br />
time.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-85124959946961171412023-08-07T10:18:00.002-07:002023-08-07T10:18:17.985-07:001 New Poem<p> <b><u>A Look, Undone</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A stare into gold gossamer pool,<br />
liquid chasing down leaves left in<br />
muddy wake.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A reach across pinched points of<br />
stardust, temporal spaces shining in<br />
hedonic glory.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A happiness extinguished, pen-scratched<br />
out in regret for the excitement:<br />
rainy, lost.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A missed thought for moonlit<br />
Dominica’s shores, for hazy<br />
Semarang noons.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A pulling thought that this is<br />
all, rocking back and forth until<br />
light snuffs.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-11097589003529577122023-07-01T19:23:00.001-07:002023-07-01T19:23:07.773-07:001 New Poem<p> <b><u>Cooling Poses</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The air was laced today, with<br />
washing liquid and grown barley smoke;<br />
a grand idea at the time,<br />
lightning kisses and dreams<br />
concrete lightened moods.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Not for me, though, a misty monk<br />
hopping between half-ruin places,<br />
torn and wavered, beacon burned<br />
out from too many flashes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Live with disappointment”, with<br />
posthumous fame and fortune,<br />
waiting still for decoration day;<br />
pinning the medals missing now.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You told me it was the right<br />
condition of the ages, steamships<br />
and railway gauge were last<br />
worthwhile things to come from<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thinking after dark, and it’s just<br />
us and the adding machines now.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I stood out in cigarette haze<br />
on a corner somewhere marked<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By summer’s muggy choking,<br />
belted a few bars of Against Me!<br />
and waffled on joining the ruckus<br />
inside, flicking through responsible<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pieces of presence, finding<br />
explanation wanting.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-41746839410395764232023-06-06T08:03:00.002-07:002023-06-06T08:03:54.335-07:001 New Poem<p> <b><u>A Lifetime’s Second</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I remember how the spark used to<br />
light up in me, split like veins<br />
of street lamps, spilling electric<br />
blood into forest dark;<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the cartwheels of hunger my stomach<br />
would flip and tender-foot through<br />
fields of running, stiletto cut<br />
stories told of room breaths in dark.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I look now out at remnants of<br />
rainfall, pitter-patter of birdsong<br />
on backyard window glass, wonders<br />
for the steel age dawn,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and ask how set-upon was this end,<br />
how pushed out this stillness<br />
in the moving plane, how distant<br />
the warmth of promise.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Bitten once, the memory faded,<br />
rotten apple nervous, losing sleep<br />
and washing dreams through glass<br />
pills and sugar water, compensating<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">for something I could not name,<br />
but was lost. <o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-56405842649481114702023-05-03T20:50:00.001-07:002023-05-03T20:50:05.420-07:001 New Poem<p> <b><span lang="EN-US">A Portion
of Recall</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">In the
pinwheel, time tracks<br />
a wind down flat, still lands<br />
that lounge, concrete and wire, right<br />
back in place like ones I remember<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">from childish
breath, cobblestone<br />
pathway, watching how the beach<br />
I traced across would<br />
quiver in heat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">New roads appeared;
shut as quickly,<br />
the trod dirt paths and shoe stain<br />
I now manage abacus triumphs and<br />
lose out in station places.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Persist in falling,
root cellar<br />
ambition that took me up and became<br />
a wasted tempest in words<br />
I wrap around the axel of gentle<br />
sleep, sparking nights.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the space between calculation and<br />
embrace, I find a longing for when<br />
I bought Sylvia Plath collections<br />
for co-eds on the Galway quadrangle,<br />
joined Sinn Fein to sing rebel<br />
songs in tavern backrooms,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and tasted all that was good;<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I slow in old wound<br />
pain, a place where blades were<br />
inserted to test how much<br />
I wander in memory spaces apart,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How much I miss what felt<br />
unending.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-7772168508719404972023-04-07T15:12:00.000-07:002023-04-07T15:12:15.711-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Frozen Morning</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cut in drift of falling snow,<br />
left shaking shadow in wake,<br />
lying in open window chill,<br />
for plans made of tomorrow<br />
already drifted past.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Curfew and persuasion were<br />
companions at will, summoned to<br />
keep calm when days went slowly<br />
and nights were unloved for all<br />
they lacked in excitement.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Starting a howl up to distant<br />
listeners, reaching past air of<br />
short towers and splintered alley,<br />
cracks in windshield on parking<br />
space for warmth here.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cursing transparent of old ambition to<br />
new potted plants, sick in bed,<br />
watching wallpaper turn shades<br />
each half-light with age, over<br />
with what was.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-87022510598938359932022-12-19T14:42:00.001-08:002022-12-19T14:42:17.822-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Sensible</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tracing fallen pinecone path:<br />
earth floor to dollar store<br />
display, wrapped in blotch<br />
paint white, bound in plastic<br />
flimsiness, to the place in box<br />
and room corner, was alike<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To me from swing set summer days.<br />
A brilliant shock of limbs in<br />
air, crashed to gravel and sand.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had then the fugitive heart,<br />
washing ashore to tidal pools<br />
in Pacific, Atlantic, Carib<br />
oceans.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Do not fear falling now, flower crowns<br />
and all, to pillow places,<br />
as they keep me whole, upright,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Standing in middle distance from<br />
gold room glow that tempts,<br />
beckons and an impression<br />
of light boxes flashing beyond<br />
wound salves.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There isn’t a clipping thing<br />
I could say now, make it<br />
cohere to something just;<br />
the chosen point is its own<br />
reward, its own despair.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-47880247229171503972022-10-16T15:12:00.004-07:002022-10-16T15:12:43.539-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>A Wrecking Disease</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was a bushel thicket,<br />
crossed with sallow concrete,<br />
metallic wires, I met upon<br />
at last in infinite night.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A sort of sunny midday that<br />
placed beyond disguise those<br />
worlds long lost, misshapen,<br />
to take away from<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Broken promise, from swallowed<br />
intent.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I make a shipwreck impossible,<br />
blue yonder in rainy stark,<br />
horizon simple, taking away<br />
places for things besides adding<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Machines to cut quick a<br />
double-tailed strip that devours<br />
what we were as figures on<br />
dock lanes, in inert cafes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We don’t talk of it much<br />
anymore, even if we did<br />
lose something every day<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From living.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-52659732587526284302022-08-06T20:59:00.003-07:002022-08-06T20:59:27.522-07:001 New Poem<p><b>Linoleum Scars</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Touching kitchen floor,<br />
you airs felt of psalm:<br />
to unravel, tracing night<br />
mist, unworthy rulings that made<br />
a lie of all this civil pretense,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">all this useless rib cage mending<br />
that makes wine-water bitter,<br />
throws out breaking bathwater,<br />
stills the swirl of reckonings deep.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Memory looms, cicada chirp background,<br />
brush of hair in old breeze,<br />
as I take the first cursing<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">breaths, longing for ache to end<br />
and be put away, war medals<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">in the chest for another month’s march.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-68809305616856039412022-07-17T15:48:00.004-07:002022-07-17T15:48:42.174-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Glass Panels</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Stare through the water,<br />
looking broken, half-awake,<br />
starving for lightness again,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The wick-dipped scent of old<br />
days, wood chips and mould,<br />
floors tilted with rot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cool and boiling at once,<br />
pouring sweat at night when<br />
stars would creek as city breaths;<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was strawberry-headed then too,<br />
unlike a beaten, loose tooth<br />
spectre that haunts about<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Rapping chambers for those moments<br />
when actors look again like<br />
old school friends standing by.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then calculate the rise-run<br />
of beef and petrol, space between<br />
bearing loss and one felt.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Stop to admire the wooden<br />
lampshade, crossing winds<br />
through dry grass.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-16882045104215947082022-04-21T08:47:00.004-07:002022-04-21T08:47:39.984-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Stillness Moving</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Moon breath crept across<br />
lawns in early space;<br />
singing places stop-started<br />
their warbling shake,<br />
dove through a<br />
wounded step lifetime.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Under far western skies,<br />
you swept me up in finery,<br />
promised the world not as<br />
printed page tone, but in<br />
full-flowering colour; belief<br />
in nothing so much as together.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Placebo for the arsenic gold:<br />
words shifting more fleeting,<br />
stretched thin to bone, cold<br />
in light of crooked day,<br />
with boxes and book carriages<br />
to fill space.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-82930807356278348962022-04-11T15:10:00.004-07:002022-04-11T15:10:55.617-07:001 New Poem<p> <b style="text-align: center;"><u>Not Being Here</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On a Thursday, I was lost in <br />
bar chord bash, rushing through<br />
clock spit with you;<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had a lost head them, a<br />
pendulum bolt from fast to<br />
slow, running down hours.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the ticking, I heard causes<br />
once sacred, hearts aflame<br />
I could not hope to cross<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Again through this quilt stitched<br />
of broken glass, memorial wheels,<br />
in the same fashion as before<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When worse my speech, but<br />
better the laughter.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-27169023971312474262021-10-09T18:19:00.003-07:002021-10-09T18:19:15.116-07:001 New Poem<p><b>A Tale of
Clocktowers</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It was striking,<br />
match and bell the same:<br />
light stood fallow,<br />
frost on misted shore,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">That sunshine broken<br />
in memory, cast iron<br />
caging left wrought<br />
marks against skin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">That time traced along<br />
line (lonesome figure,<br />
town square middle)<br />
was so glass bottle<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Cast away from now,<br />
that glory clockface I<br />
spend digital hours typing,<br />
running against together<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Tie, waiting for mercy<br />
yet to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-40656900117982738892021-07-23T19:45:00.004-07:002021-07-23T19:45:39.802-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Wheel Spokes</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Crunch-clatter of paving stone<br />
leading me back again,<br />
back to bicycle lane and<br />
back to well-worn excuse,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That I could not find<br />
fog light of shining memory<br />
to take a better path than<br />
one inscribed in blood numbers.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I took to sins of flesh<br />
and fabric like they were<br />
restive faces in crowded life,<br />
then thrown like glitter<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Against blaster canvas<br />
I left in wake, solid<br />
steel, regretted waste,<br />
breaking voice that cut.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-6347378123492664662021-07-04T08:15:00.004-07:002021-07-04T08:15:28.730-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Doorways</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Rushing abandon,<br />
the banality of lightness,<br />
coffee commercial banter<br />
chattering through clasped<br />
teeth, avoidance of bones<br />
and birthing ghosts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Carried same pocket brass,<br />
took the long way around<br />
concrete bends, used screen<br />
door slam to soundtrack<br />
light frost touches on lip,<br />
settled way down in patched leather.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Rust hinge shut,<br />
that old thing is no longer<br />
so brutal, so bloody beating<br />
a heart to have and hold<br />
but one strong thing shining:<br />
light bleaching morning curtain.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-19557402466636748142021-06-07T08:11:00.000-07:002021-06-07T08:11:02.811-07:001 New Poem<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><u>Watching Many Sunsets<o:p></o:p></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No river was less running,<br />
than sky-body left to<br />
shine, miracle grey in mist,<br />
looking out above the house to<br />
stepladder escapes and whirring<br />
box fans.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No less were we standing<br />
making fingers slide, to believe<br />
in something greater than flesh touch<br />
the starring-back sense I got<br />
from being still when things<br />
looked paint-prepped.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No storm came from swirling<br />
horizon, no clash breaking open<br />
slippery skies, falling frozen<br />
over the rocky silt, where<br />
green pushed through, pushed on<br />
in its way.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No night came on so quickly<br />
as the ones which flickered<br />
through the summer heat and<br />
mourned our passing selves,<br />
not in sadness, but in truth<br />
that found<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Us watching together.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-57334084542831596092021-04-06T13:10:00.001-07:002021-04-06T13:10:06.517-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Slow Waltz</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The star chart blinked like<br />
beacons splashing across<br />
strewn-water horizon, outside<br />
and crossing chevron nights<br />
through wanderlusting glass.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With one stitch and<br />
becoming again a cross of<br />
arms, the rhythm-scrape of<br />
foot soles on plank and<br />
cut turf; we turn up<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In odd places, winding down<br />
a meadow staircase and<br />
freeze a glacier stare<br />
in time between us<br />
and echo, echo lost<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Follies in stepping too soon.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-17594949037698253022021-03-13T13:30:00.000-08:002021-03-13T13:30:03.007-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Two Trees</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We perched together,<br />
dug in roots that<br />
reached but did not intertwine<br />
for so long to each other<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That the first hint felt like<br />
failing, felt like too many<br />
trials rushing in,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But they were groundwater<br />
quenching parch thirst, clearing<br />
the throat for what came:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Brilliant laps of sunshine<br />
that didn’t waste themselves turning<br />
our leave a brilliant flash shade<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of green-blue crashing off the<br />
sky we looked to and dreamed<br />
of how to float if only there<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Weren’t these tangles that kept us<br />
tethered to ground.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But, then, sometimes,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We felt it was good to be<br />
just where we were<br />
with nothing else<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But the memory that we<br />
were once so solitary<br />
so unringed by oaken time.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And now had a perfect spot<br />
to shade each other.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-51383027172519587422021-01-17T17:05:00.000-08:002021-01-17T17:05:04.893-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Harder Ground</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The nightshade grew out,<br />
through cracks in stone,<br />
blank spaces in heat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Consumed the topsoil of<br />
bitter minerals, of frozen<br />
time-ticks on deadpan tones.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When they throw confetti<br />
form us in finery, they<br />
don’t move shame-faced<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In floating work signs,<br />
the efforts that took me<br />
so long, too long in tearing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is not the star chamber<br />
silence, that stretched out to<br />
infinity’s edge in old halls,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But battered seething that<br />
confuses a heart and<br />
soul sadness, striking<br />
time bone against dusk.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-43117839039756861762020-11-30T10:18:00.002-08:002020-11-30T10:18:15.255-08:001 New Poem<p><b><u>The Water Line</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was so much taking,<br />
loop and drop through steel<br />
pins and sliding waves,<br />
that was done before I came,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That was done without a flicker<br />
thought for me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was worse as ghost<br />
than made flesh, coiling<br />
from blank light of<br />
morning dew starts, glinty<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Metal shading for the worse-off<br />
of the two days.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It rushed away, flowering<br />
as hibiscus in fall, wilted<br />
and leaving the bruise purple prose<br />
in mouth and to tongue,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That I kissed in salt brine,<br />
once, and for last time.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-48846583193183631322020-10-11T15:19:00.004-07:002020-10-11T15:19:42.700-07:001 New Poem<p><b><u>Sometimes, in Light</u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The sheet folds were crisp<br />
white, snow caps for the<br />
heat rise of breath and breast<br />
just as pale.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Turning, stirring, the colossal<br />
near-miss of lifetimes<br />
(grandparents’ picture on<br />
nightstand to fall)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Was the only thing that kept<br />
me waking in these same<br />
hours with a cold separation,<br />
a wordless form inflection.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You pass the former foot<br />
miles, new inches we place<br />
between ourselves<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the<br />
rocky waves of pine,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As easy as breathing,<br />
coming home at hard day’s<br />
end, and shelter the broken<br />
pieces as unseen treasure.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I reach through heavy blank<br />
space, fog of circulating airs,<br />
rumbled machine parts cutting<br />
slight figures, until I am<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Embraced in you once more:<br />
full circle to footsteps<br />
that once led up rubble and<br />
creaked wood, that became<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Paces under one roof.<o:p></o:p></p>Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5778329805675976939.post-24346388385038750342020-07-05T14:05:00.003-07:002020-07-05T14:05:26.233-07:001 New Poem<b><u>Days of Plenty</u></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lay,<br />
arms stretched in<br />
darkness noon through<br />
the curtain call,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As you<br />
made the pinprick<br />
acts on me, a tense<br />
equality to protect us,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From hurting<br />
in the bright world,<br />
notions that we<br />
could be kissing<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some days<br />
as calico kittens,<br />
lost in fogs<br />
of harried longing:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trapeze artists,<br />
dancing in each<br />
others eyesight,<br />
backing away from light.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Carter Vancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00630689968396252527noreply@blogger.com1