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open all night 352H - January 14, 2015s

author’s note:

Some believe we didn’t actually land a man on The Moon…

Of course we did.  But not on this Moon:
 

THE BLESSED BURDEN OF THE MOON

Its white inscrutable face
hovers too close to ignore

while taunting the reach
of these stunted arms
—these starved hands.

I gaze at The Moon
until finally my desire
becomes unbearable

then I turn my eyes down
to weave a way back through
this midnight wood.

But now, I’m no longer so alone:

now I can feel that moon
beaming its weight
down onto my back—

a haunting—a burden:

now I can feel my tides
agitating within—

now I’m forced to feel
sensations, intuitions
I can usually reject—

now this life is again
an ocean of unknown depth.
 


© 2015, Michael R. Patton
open all night: the book

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day raccoon - September 3, 2014s

author’s note:

Not based on any particular experience…

…based on so many similar experiences.
 

A BRIEF PEACE AFTER THE NEW YEAR’S PARTY

At the end of another party–alone

and blank
under a bare light bulb.

As I drum my fingers on
this hard kitchen table
I wonder if I might’ve died
at some time unknown to me
while I talked in my sleep…

then an icicle crashes outside

and with that relief and release
I realize our revolution never ceases.

In the silence that follows
I can hear the deep hill cave
calling to me…I must rise.

But though I know I can find
soft soothing darkness
beneath my eyelids
I wish to stay at this table
for just few more tickings:

because I’m now aware
of how I am as full
and as empty
as this glass of air—
I no longer hunger
for the Spring sun.

In this unexpected expansion
of light—this sudden freedom—
I lift with a new breath
    of peace

    then on the exhale
I lose that open moment in the breeze.

But though I know I’ve arrived
at the end of another ending
I lag a short while longer
so that I may enjoy
what lingers of the feeling—
the afterglow, then its diffusion…

abruptly shut down
as the clock strikes the hour.
 

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
searching for the new mythology

who are line - June 11, 2014s

author’s note:

Some say we live in a world of shadows…

I say: let’s explore.
 

SHADOW KINGDOM

Voices from unseen partiers
echo out of the dark distance—

the words unclear—distorted:

an alien sound

perhaps a little frightening.

I absorb the
reverberation
as do the oak trees—

I feel the sounds
deep within
just as the trees listen
down in their roots.

What resides inside mystifies me
like a shadow kingdom

and so, I keep summoning
long after the voices have gone:

how beautifully strange we are.
 

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
BUTTEFLY SOUL

bat flight - March 12, 2014s

author’s note:

A companion poem to the last one posted…

I’ve had scary dreams, nauseating dreams, dreams that have weighed on me all the next day.

But I’ve never had any “bad” dreams.
 

SACRIFICIAL NIGHTS

Though in sleep my body needs
a good feathery rest…

my soul requires those bat wings
that trouble my eyelids—

agitated
by the day’s erratic fuss
the upside-down angel
stirs a wind, swirls me up
with no care at all
for my coziness—

up—
only to be dropped
into the cold monk waters
so contrary to
the gentle dinner evening
I’ve just enjoyed—

down—
through the thunder of the depths
where I’m again shaved by electric fishes
with razor-sharp fins

to be beached the next morning:
in the sun, I burn from the cutting—
but though burnt, I’m never quite done.

From the repetition of such exercise
I’ve surmised:
no amount of sacrifice is ever enough—

apparently,
the sharpened point
can never get
too fine.

Perhaps that’s why
we struggle so hard
to extend our lives
instead of surrendering
to the soft rest of death:

I know
I have so much more
to offer up
in the batty days and nights
of this dark angel.
 

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps

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