Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Forgotten great songs part two
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
New poem
1.
The morning fog
seperated the boardwalk
from the sea.
Only winos wanted to be on
the beach that early,
you could see them as shadows
pacing on the sand,
pretending to have concerns
and burdens greater than
the paper bag becoming too light.
2.
Children are at home in crowds,
a chance to be a mustang in a stampede,
a stone in an avalanche.
Supertramp blared from every passing car,
every open shop door,
the sun burned away the fog
and sang along to the hits.
3.
Sharks and stingrays
in a green lit tank,
small crocodile on a mossy log,
an aquarium of the defeated.
Next door,
a battered paperback of Spiderman comics hung from a bookrack just beyond my reach.
I couldn't dare to ask for it.
4.
At 8 years old,
I couldn't legally gamble,
even though I'd been taught my whole life what was at stake.
I had years,
decades even,
to learn I was in no postion to negotiate,
that we live entire lives
in the shadow of risk,
hoping our faces give nothing away,
that we hope we remain on the boardwalk and the people in the fog get taken by the sun.
9/1/10
Brian Moreau
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Recent poems
Quicksilver, Slowsilver, Stillsilver
(for D)
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.
Bolides.
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,
everywhere,
the bright orange corpse of grass.
The rain stays away out of shame.
One by one,
we find ourselves breaking down,
confessing,
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
She bought me a Battlestar Galactica T-shirtand 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
that the sailors found
the blossoms of light in the depths
beautiful
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