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Poetry

	Anthony DiMichele
	PROFILE About me Friends (13) Poetry (54) Photography (92) Graphics (133)

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Anthony DiMichele, 25 february 2013

A Matter Of Convenience

You are something else
puppet master without faith
in the puppets
where the police police the police
and the children are in charge of trouble making
while all of us are walking toward our corpses
it is only a matter of convenience
not to think so
butterfly dust
the rain is also nude
all points of view
face the same direction
the journey toward rebirth
makes me laugh
at trees without trees
in their leaves
I need someone to hold my feet
to keep my mind from leaking
one persona at a time
I am half in half out
of the driver’s seat
with a snake
in a suitcase of smiles

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Anthony DiMichele, 25 february 2013

Ring

the ring is old gold
in my dream I wrapped it in a dream~cloth
a tissue almost transparent made of veins and words
I polished it to the sound of an old oud
and my heart sang as I prepared it
for your finger
with a vow I had never heard
or spoken before flying from my lips
I saw a goldfinch disappear into a sunset
but my feet recognized it
and my heels stamped the earth
in a rhythmic dance
until
the dust flew up
in a circle
around my ankles
*

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Anthony DiMichele, 23 february 2013

well wisher

you are so good to me
it fills me with shame
a cardinal in a cage
who impersonates a parrot
replaces me
as soon as a kindness confronts me
sadness sorts it out
well before regret
the well wisher's punishment

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Anthony DiMichele, 30 july 2012

never the same

the greatest moment of my life
I was 5 at most
late summer afternoon
squashed into a bed before dark
ecstacy interrupted
thunderstorms in my head
I scanned the half dark wall paper
the sailing boat the blue shade
half drawn
over and over again
until there was nothing left to see
but a rectangle
of light
an emptiness scintillating like a galaxy
the more intently I stared the more I saw
as it narrowed and faded
absorbed by the wall
which had also disappeared
infinitude within confinement
the room around the void
I was never the same
*

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Anthony DiMichele, 12 july 2012

paranoid

I know I am paranoid
it took the first ten years
of safety education
to open my eyes
a frog's mouth unexpectedly magnified
how life forms are transformed
into celestial garbage bags
my mother's command repeatedly
was to push harder!
it taught me repetition
a contortion of origins hard to control
finally I see my zombie at high noon
eat its own hands in prayer
but something is always missing
in that appetite
I am suspicious of its nexus
a gordian knot I tied with my toes
I sheath my tongue in a hunting knife
and I can't wake up after I awoke
there are ideas that bleed confections
carpenters who never touched a toucan
the flow is moving from mind to mind
mindlessly most of the time
I was so wise once
every game was life or death
with my dice cup full of hot air
in arcades hypnotised by surrealism
advertising its lips
finely stitched with care

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Anthony DiMichele, 20 march 2012

seeding time

it's seeding time again
and that involves a lot of shopping
with any number of warm-up attempts
at least I remember that much during the busy
weeks that cycle faster now
wobbling on bent wheels
and panting
if I was as young as you
I would take a good hard look
at defacing and erasing
and outlaw it
you have a harvest behind the curtains
take it and run!

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Anthony DiMichele, 20 march 2012

wind

tasks wearing old and faded motives
shuffle aimlessly
waving handles an idiotic tale
that I will tell you
there are spills and clutter throughout
the wind we spoke about the wind
as you opened the door to another world
and drove to work
to pay for the trees it was about the trees
in high winds all night
and how you woke wondering about your
thyroid and I was listening
it sounded like surf
at an airport
or a carport in a marina on fire
but it was wind shaking the distant
treetops

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Anthony DiMichele, 28 february 2012

Black Snow

I wonder how much of the sun has already been used?
manditory optimism
as usual
willful ignorance
maintained by a pinhead lobby
of invisible deities
they are busy being happily wounded together
how did you know I would ask that?
propinquity breeds objectivity
where did you go since you first got here?
the sun is over the roof
but you wouldn't know it
by the footprints filling up steadily with black snow