-
At home
By Chris Clarke on 2009 05 20 at 3:24:12 pm | 3 commentsOut on the slope, above the alkaline
… (continues)
and sterile sumps of rivers long deceased
they watch, dry-tongued and stark. They bend their limbs
at angles toward the sky, fists full of knives,
a vulnerable heart, a growing urge
within each nest of blades. -
Stargazing
By Chris Clarke on 2009 03 29 at 12:49:31 am | 3 commentsUnder this vault of stars I am content.
… (continues)
Stuck fast to this small rock I am at ease.
Minuscule, ego fading by degrees
and what remains of little consequence.
Only the wind and stars, and nighttime shades
of loves abandoned, fire going cold
as in the -
Elysian Park
By Chris Clarke on 2008 12 21 at 10:56:03 pm | 1 commentI miss the certainty I had back then.
… (continues)
I miss the knowing all of it, the keen,
the ardent hewing to my heart’s clear path.
Old men slow-shamble in the liquor aisle,
sigh Russian imprecations baleful, soft
under their smog-choked breath. This -
Optimism
By Chris Clarke on 2008 09 26 at 1:39:00 am | 0 commentsTake my fingers, split nails to the quick,
tear off this sallow skin from nail and bone
and scatter all of it among the rocks
to feed the creosote. This back long-bent
could be reduced to vertebrae and flesh
to jerk and desiccate, this pliant hide
