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Brian Mosher


Its was not a dark and stormy night

It 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 Blue

Brick 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 Dream

And 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.
​

Emanation

I 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.
​
Picture


​Brian Mosher's profile

Baptism

Each 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-Eyed

Two 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 Jar

While 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
​
Picture

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