Brian Mosher
Its was not a dark and stormy nightIt was not a dark and stormy night.
No shots rang out in the humid August air. No maid screamed, and no body fell to the floor. No blood pooled, sticky and warm, across the linoleum. But that doesn’t mean there was no tragedy no crime no heartache. Because there was. An 11 year old girl shouldn’t have to watch Daddy leave with all his clothes shoved in black plastic trash bags. That’s too young for that kind of loss. A man who would do that deserves to be punished. Incarcerated and berated and flagellated. Not loved and admired. Not told dumb jokes and secret hopes. He shouldn’t be allowed to see the happy smiles, or get the glad-to-see you hugs. But she gives them, and he takes them, because to not take them would be like leaving all over again. Brick Red and Midnight BlueBrick red and midnight blue, my favorite colors
Pounding drums and chiming guitars, my favorite sounds Like you, I wonder what lies beyond the curtain Like you, I dream of life on the other side of the river The grass is greener there, they say Milk and honey for everyone, so belly up to the bar, boys No closing time, no “reached your limit” But I live in the here and now, in the moment I need music and words and human contact I love to be lost in the sweaty crowd at the rock show I love to become one with the audience and the band All our hearts beating to the same alcoholic frequency All our mouths forming the same words It’s our version of the rites of the ancient Greeks It’s our version of the Mass, the Communion For a moment, we’re all part of something larger Something greater than ourselves For a moment we can forget and just live Just get lost in the brick red and midnight blue And pounding drums and chiming guitars I Fall Once More into a DreamAnd so
I fall once more into a dream, a dream of standing in our yard, watching through a window as you glide from room to room. Ever you are the graceful dancer. A breeze blows through the trees and through my coat. Your scent comes to me through the open doorway, along with a pool of yellow light from our kitchen. I see you spin out of a shadow. The yellow light forms a halo around your head. I hear a choir of angels singing “Into my arms,” and as they sing you pirouette toward me. You brush your lips across my cheek and then you leap into the air, And I am drawn up in your wake. We soar above the sea, I follow where you lead, until you settle on a star, and I settle by your side. We look back down upon the earth below, where you and I still stand in a pool of yellow kitchen light, holding tightly to each other, swaying and singing. EmanationI look up from my book
Through the window Where the sun shines brightly And all the ice is melting Steam pouring off the trunk of the old pine tree beside the driveway Steam pouring off the trunk of a tree I go outside to get a closer look Yes, it’s steam The tree is warm to the touch, or at least, warmer than the air The camera won’t capture the image Steam pouring off the trunk of a tree A thing of small beauty A thing as natural as life, A thing as ancient A thing I'd never noticed before. |
BaptismEach generation inherits the sins of their fathers
Never a clean start, never a new beginning The cries of every killer still echo in our ears And the blood of the victims is still caked on our hands It all carries forward, never falls away But we try Baptism by fire, by immersion, by sacrifice Baptism by kisses, by caresses, by loving glances Cleansing, nay, scouring the soul Removing the stains of a thousand lifetimes It would take the rest of time to account for all our sins But we try Time is a harsh mistress for a tender heart For a lonely heart in a time of decadence So dance away your pain and your regrets Dance until your feet blister and bleed Twist and turn like a dervish of desire and lust Shake off the dust of the past and leap Into the arms of your lover The road to salvation is paved with Mingled tears and tangled tongues Whiskey Cross-EyedTwo dead ends - my only choices
so fill up my glass again, barmaid you look awfully sweet in this dim light I'm whiskey cross-eyed, I'm afraid and you're prob'ly not more than 22 anyway what's a girl like you know about a guy like me reaching the end of the road with two dead ends my only choices so lend an old man an ear while you pour me another beer you look awfully sweet in the dim light though I'm whiskey cross-eyed, I'm sure but there's a theory I heard from a man with a drunken piano maybe the devil made the world while god was sleeping I'm pressing my knife against the milky white throat of another broken down Saturday night and though I'm whiskey cross-eyed, still you look awfully sweet in the dim light and the only sound in here is the babble of drunken voices all pretending to be more than they are and knowing they are less than they wish Catching Crows in a JarWhile catching crows in a jar I find
An angel’s broken wings lying in the snow Broken angel Fallen, shattered The crows call, caw, I’ll release them When they’re no longer needed My plan proceeds The angel walks now, on tired feet Tired soles A lonely soul Fallen, shattered on the snowy earth The jar, a mason jar, fit for pickled beets Or pig’s feet Not suited for catching crows Falls from my hand and shatters The crows dissolve into the snow Like a black teardrop in the ocean A tear from the eye of a mystic saint Or an addled con-man on the take Rheumy eyed and drooling My plan is shattered Shards of glass cut me Open me, leave me hollow and burning The angel’s hand touches my wound Cool relief Disbelief shattered And the crows soar into the setting sun And the angel is taken up Rising into a Michelangelo cloud Only I remain, in the snow Fallen and shattered
|
