Wednesday, October 31, 2012


All the lovely words I ache to use
—grip and finny, plangent,
Enarctic, absolute
Embargoed, subject to my

Used to be
Words bottlenecked inside
As blade leapt and feet patterned
Faster than the conscious mind can ken
Spilled forth late at night when
Dried from sweat and
Drenched with images
I’d channel on the page
The residue of dreams
Inspirations that upon the strip
Fall short
Trying to capture them with
Syllambolic grace
Synoptic brevity

Since I’ve gone lame, that
Well’s run dry
Phrases cramp and tangle in my brain
Fail beneath my weight

My lagging foot has
Dragged my measure down,
Undermined my
Gimped my game
My hand and foot are yoked in their dysfunction

Mute, I’ve slaved at patient repetition
Labored to rebuild the
Tendoned scaffold of my lunge
Drill minute adjustments to the pitch and weight and
Slant of step and shift
Strive to rediscovery thoughtless ease

But last night, gingerly untangling my brace
Applying ice, assessing the resentment of my knee
My eyes were captured by the
Ferritopic cut and slash
The sabre bums employ
Their ranting stutter stamp and
Their embered arguments

I scrabbled in my bag for pad and pen
Recovery is marked by such small steps as these