Thursday, August 26, 2010

Recent poems

Quicksilver, Slowsilver, Stillsilver

(for D)

All these years,

dreaming of your molten life,

your hot, mirrored heart.

Silver moonlight at dawn-

I’ll be sorry if I unblock (---)”s profile.

I just don’t want to know,

I’ll be sorry.

Where do we go…

no one can predict our motion,

our entanglements

that takes us from one end of the universe

to the other,

yet 3000 miles

is unbearably long

to your embrace.


All night,

green fire and loud booms

influence dreams.

A war in heaven,

you as Helen of Troy

sending angels into glorious battle.


Brian Moreau


Heat Wave '10

The sun is lighting the world
into a Kurosawa film,
the bright orange corpse of grass.

The rain stays away out of shame.
One by one,
we find ourselves breaking down,
hot kitchens and bedrooms
become silent and guilty.

The A/C drones the longest catechism
in history,
the warm breezes asking:
"If the rain won't forgive you,
how can a lover?
Or a heart that's grown to hate you?"


Brian Moreau


Yellow moon behind clouds, October 1978

I wish you could have seen it love.

Mom and I were shopping in
Fitchburg on a school night.
She bought me a Battlestar Galactica T-shirt
and then burned rubber along the back roads to get me in bed an hour past bedtime.

That night, I dreamed I lived in a kingdom ruled by fellow children.
All we ever ate was spicy pasta and meatballs.
Then in my dream I was back on that lonely road

my Mom drove to get me home.

I saw a street light in the distance and it broke my heart.

I wanted that beautiful light to never go out,
shine on me always.

I know dreams should remain private
but sometimes they are the only things we can share,
that little bit of rope we throw to each other

when the voice of the abyss is loud, insistent.

Brian Moreau


Depth Charge

I choose to believe

that the sailors found

the blossoms of light in the depths


and that, come dawn,

the sight of the ocean littered

with U-boat debris could only

be considered a good omen,

one less enemy stalking them

thru the water.

Some days,

I’m only a bright flash in your shadows,

a weapon of love fired scattershot

into the dark.

Some days,

armistice seems impossible,

our hearts faltering

under the crushing pressure

of everything destiny has hidden from us.


Brian Moreau

No comments:

Post a Comment