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Poetry

	Anthony DiMichele
	PROFILE About me Friends (13) Poetry (54) Photography (89) Graphics (133)

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Anthony DiMichele, 9 march 2013

the flames

and the flames were swallowed by darkness…
you go ahead I’ll be there in a moment
the dogs are dead
I tracked them with a computer
to the end of hope
they’re here
they called me home
I am at your convenience
which will get you nowhere
trust in the lord and you’ve suddenly got one
but company is hard on my knees
and if I were an imitation
of a standardized test
a sample
a reaction
broken into
with the only key
I could explain the fusion
of those funny things you hear out there
that would like to get back inside
nobody
who got it from you and returned it
used it last
why do we always
talk over each other when we are trying to think?
the clock is eating the frosted halls of an apparent haven
and of course there is a limited ration of kerosene
who is hidding inside the imitation
that takes over the question marks in ski masks?
punctuate this truncation with a bodice of perfume
yes it could be anybody’s
now
*

number of comments: 3 | rating: 2 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 16 october 2013

ignorance

scientists who deny the utter destructiveness
of their methods and outcomes
the actual historical results of their work
their compliance with and submission to corporations
that control research with unsustainable aims
these scientists who cannot account for our origins
or consciousness
are also those who claim life is inherently meaningless
and that life began out of nothingness
rather than simply admitting their ignorance
*

number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 | detail

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

number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 | detail

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

number of comments: 0 | rating: 2 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 18 march 2013

significant other

when I came into my life
and became my significant other
I became a grave by-product
I love the way he tells me there
has got to be a system
to build a car out of data
choices will be modular options
with a whim of individualism
the great divide echos with
very little variation
in sarcasm
which takes enourmous amounts
of delusion
normalization
floundering mindscapes in an ocean
of insane insecurity
constant dissonance resonantes
hammering chords into random bonds
adapted to what is malleable
within a monoculture
I have no relative resources
to spare
I like reason I understand resistence
as well
there have been far too many linguistic
massacres
whole languages disappear without notice
*
before you leave I want to ask you
how you got here
priority mail?
that microcosm of a macroworld
of competition
that no way is anything other
than murderous which makes me
garnish my neighbor’s ruthless
barbeque
I make good money nominally
a narcissist can make a movie
out of it
that goes viral
in the impossible
*
your loneliness accuses me
of being someone I hate
who shamelessly steals my shoes
those identical twins day and night
but I am accountable
and talk then talk over
talk with more talk
which is absurd which I have already
heard
because it is part of all the talk
your loneliness I have heard is not
my business
but I have no business
but silence
which accuses me
*
your absence empties the task
at hand of significance
who needs you when I play hide and seek
with myself?
is that what you mean?
*
you are up now well after I woke
restlessly
in a seperate room I hear the bass notes
of wood against wood
and maybe something made of metal and glass
and I wonder if I should go for walk
to be gone for you
*
it is a fine late autumn afternoon
of cold sunshine in
March
fall spring
they miss each other
so much
they resemble each other
they just can’t let go
*
listen
just for another hour
like background noise
distant traffic
to a raven in fir tree
next to a cemetery
or cicadas after a hard rain
with 90 percent humidity
or wall paper from another century
the white noise in the dry yellow grass
listen to how tall it gets
tomorrow
*
the curtains are closed
holding back the light
when it wants in
the clocks haven’t quite digested
last night’s leftovers
or a forthnight’s overdraws
I suppose
*
when you are really happy I know I had no
real part in it
so I have nothing to fear
*

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 8 august 2013

humdrum

everything is humdrum how we like it
nothing going on here
in the cosmic drama
the trees surround the house and beg
for permission to believe in our enterprize
the remains of other characters on the barbeque
are being smothered in smoke
you will miss the point of my life
missionless decency
unfolding inside a spectator sport
make a place for yourself
among the anonymous multitude
it is said
you can part them like wheat

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 19 march 2013

Mindspring

I went to the mindspring
an oasis in a desert
the place has been off limits to humans
since the 1930s
and so has gone wild
I was the first white man there
to see such vast vistas
and to hear the silence
that was immense
it covered me and everything else
with its invisible blanket
I knew in my heart which was suddenly
enlarged
what it meant to be part of the earth
rather than an occupant
of rented space
there were no other humans on earth
but me and there were
a few flies
the mountains were punched up and isolated
blocks of jagged rock
the alluvium
crept up their sides in low
long slopes
they were alive and almost
organic
I too was detached
and part of it all
I did not need a hand to hold or
the reassurance that someone else
was just over the hill or at home
waiting
I wanted to crouch down in the sun
expectant but for what
I did not know…
now I am back
not deeply changed
but more solitary than ever before
our place is in the wild
by the ocean or in desert spaces
places where we are neither beggars
nor kings
but bits of the foundational dust
eternal

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 23 march 2013

weightless

the anxiety slashed me it curled me into a fetus of fear
the fear cancered me
for years and then it killed me
many times
I am with you not of you
my pain is weightless
my thoughts a narrative of escapism
suicidal dance in the shadow of our rubbish
everything goes in the frenzy and the trance
the song and dance
of eatting corpse
I don’t know how or why
but I fly downstream to the sea
automatically
and I don’t stop there
I can hear you speak
to your self silently
as you read
I think this is eternity
I don’t want to die

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 28 march 2013

After Midnight

there was captain slave
and the book
and also the inner clothes I dress up in night after night
the revolutionaries’ worn out flames
the next time we will not take you by force
our aspirations are to be advertised on movie posters
I shake hands with a swordfish in a blue suit
the blood hums in his gunpowder
all of us are burning
for a catharsis
when you are gone even for an
evening
deep down I am miles into a dare
*
where do you undress
your voice?
who is really naked naked or not?
in vain your tough structure bends
an immense utterance into a whisper
but the electronic walls spy on you
black and bitter from eternity
our wine bites its pulp
above the scars the riddles are unwritten
claws sink into memory
the broken clouds appear to be breaking up
and I owe you
a long book
*
between each infinite maybe I made my way
with being being evaporated drop by drop
do you remember shouting at the earth?
and then the vanquished dawn without birds?
through turquoise and crimson clouds rain fell
soaking our stockings of ashes sunken in traffic
my nails would be delightfully undone
by a solitary arrow on a one way street
I am dressing myself with cold gravestones
in the emptiness of another picnic with all expenses paid
the overture is written on a yellow postage stamp
it doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t
motionless celestial flight
*
the overture however might go on forever
said a heart wildly alone
with a thick tongue of solitary kisses
lightningbolts exploding on my lips
slapping stars in palm trees
with the hair of water
and my semen scattered in constellations
oh! the axe was a torch though I held the light like a weapon above my head!
*

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Anthony DiMichele, 26 march 2013

urban solitude

I am under a light
everything I want is a cheap fake!
drugs sex power money miracles…
there’s a line for you…
keeping an eye on that thousand foot smoke stack in the sky…
all ahead went fuzzy…
behind it was dark as ever…
bent down doubled over in a struggle
for animal warmth…
hard roads make of our royal labors… labor…
be humble
or revel in a future that looks
token green
over the irises
the garden still delivers
like threads…

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

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Latest items:

Poetry

the flames

ignorance

well wisher

wind

significant other

humdrum

Mindspring

weightless

After Midnight

urban solitude

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