Untitled

Untitled

Face a fretboard he knelt, fingers webs
spun of pain.
A songbird on a tuning peg would bow
when the old guitarist was done

-- then fly away.
The piazza rang with children
scrabbling for the coins left behind.

For at a certain moment each day
the old guitarist would simply vanish.
No one having heard knowing why
-- he played at all.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --

Homonym

Homonym

Matter.

In the first sense, not what is thought or felt.
Rather that which is held, seen or smelled.

In the second, everything physical scatters.
Add an "s", and only what is invisible...

© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

The Sigh of a Frog

The Sigh of a Frog

If infinity is what we think it is then whatever you can think
of, exists. Not convinced? Travel a bit further, it will turn up.
Go faster. It will reveal itself prior to your thoughts.

A far greater mystery lies nestled in a folded-in-upon-
itself perception that your imagination counts for something.

[The frog I just saw jump from here to there reconsidered.
-- Simply exhaled, and sat.]

In the beginning God created the heavens and the --
Thing is, infinity seems to limit itself only to as many other
titles the contents of its own poem can justify.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --

Sparks

Sparks

A big deal is made of the invention of fire.
Rightfully so.
Think of how many things would not exist
if someone had not frictated something against another
until pre-undisturbed atoms said Uncle.

Combustation.
You would not be driving a car, or reading about
anything on a screen. The main reason your house
would be in the dark is because you would not have one.

Before any marshmallows were properly roasted
several cavemen watched sparks run aground.
Think of this next time you watch the sun set, leaving
the earth unburned.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --

A Peahen Complains

A Peahen Complains

Thank God for that sunroof idea. Those two giraffes
were about asphyxiated before Shem cranked it open.
What angers me most? None of us asked for this.

Follow the ostriches. Follow the emus. Follow follow
follow. If I had hands I would have taken that air horn
and flung it into Ethiopia. We marched like animals.

Granted, nearly anything is better than drowning.
But the noise and smell is killing me. On the intercom I
heard that the Captain sent out a reconnaissance dove.

Rumour is we land tomorrow. Listen up now, Horatio.
Evolve some better tailfeathers! Something with planets
on it -- something your future daughter cannot resist.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --

Wheat

Wheat

It happened. Called everything within me to account.
I had to process the possibility of hallucination,
questioning every answer I knew.
It was so exhilarating to have to do all of this, knowing
I would be stumped. I would start all over, and re-see it.

The Beach Boys, telling about their 409, the visor down.
Afloat on the next asphalt mirage, sinking as we arrived.
The thing you did with your hair. Pulling it from your collar
just as a breeze rippled a field you could not see.
Behind. Beside you. To my right, wheat bending.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --

Six Feet Away

Six Feet Away

A mile was not required, a city block un-summoned.
No need to restate anything with respect to as the crow flies
or refer to with the wind or against it.

Whatever is just beyond a body length was far enough.
You know, when I was a kid I laughed
pushing two magnets apart by reversing the poles.

But you turned from me.

[Never was anything so instantly realized, as the event
I now describe.
Whatever is required to reverse this --
the thing that keeps you from walking further
-- it has everything to do with why the planet we live on
has a sun to keep it warm.]

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --

Sudden Coronation

Sudden Coronation

My pleas unheard, the wand hovering.
This is not what I meant at all -- Kitty
skittered in fright, slinking to her mat
-- send me not to eternal flatness.
a backward glance curling head to tail.

But you must decide this very moment!
Curses that I agreed to such a wager.
Struck by the bad breath and harsh voice
of this fairy I quickly assessed her terms.
The four choices: Clubs. Spades. Hearts or

Diamonds! I shouted. The only one in profile.
For I will not look full on this tragedy. Kitty
snarled a sad mewl as the wand hit my head.
Losing my balance, losing my very legs
I fell forward onto my left cheek, silent.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

Rabbit at Vimy Ridge

Rabbit at Vimy Ridge

Long since deaf, my other senses were heightened.
I may've caught Noah loading two into a boat as much
as what I did see, and today's calendar says 1987.

Today I shall die at the age of 91 with the image of a
bunny zipping through No-Man's-Land and my brain.
We are survivors. We lived through all of that. We --

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010.

Mysteries

Mysteries

Might be the way the shoreline moves.
A grey ball tugging the ocean nearer.

Something to do with the candle lit
while a planet flies through nothing.

The dolphin smiling. Does a swan
preen its feathers to look prettier?

A monarch returns to this very tree
as the worst disasters fall from the sky.

Might be all of these things keeping us
alive as my lips on yours, set the sun.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Niagara

Niagara

Exhibitionism in nature is just that, natural. Your
observation has no effect, one way or the other.

You might drive in the very opposite direction
this morning -- hating the world and all planets.

Glaring, not saying the words. Feeling them burn
holes in your soul is punishment enough, today.

Imagine that before you were, and after you shall
be, a torrent over a lip of rock tells misty secrets.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

You Never Saw Me

You Never Saw Me

Near tripping into the fountain There is a thing
inside the ear called something helps us balance
Remain upright That final shot or the one before
Might have been a sudden shifting of the axis
of the earth An earthquake pushing me right side
up
Satan falling from heaven a gravity shift of sorts
The moon pulling the sheets of the ocean tight
Me recalling my father's final hug / my consent
Friends in a dream calling Come back, Come here
Another shot at life -- whatever it was I know you
never saw me recover But she did She did she did.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

How The Nanny Got The Job

How The Nanny Got The Job

Clemson's cigar between my teeth and I hate cigars I grinned
east and west choking literally gagging eyes cinched shut as
slapping down my King of spades to an uproar of boos cheers
and suds flying he asked it again How did ye land such a girl?

Every crude thing within wanted to burst out but her brown eyes
from where they now watched a night's crib stopped me cold and
rising from that table with her on my mind I said Likes laughter.
The girl closed her ad with Likes laughter and by God she does!

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

And Then

And Then

One nerve ending from oblivion we stand or sit
lie or walk, a misfiring synapse from gone.
He said what follows just before he was.

Clouds passed over the eyes that had been
a life of sky, mine raining on his left hand.
As it briefly tightened

he described what we would say was a fly
buzzing -- an erratic path down what seemed
the hallway of another world.

c. Ciprianowords Inc., 2010

Skyscrapers

Skyscrapers

Behind you two men with briefcases heatedly discussed
something that does not matter. In the scheme of things.
Squinting, shutting your right eye, stepping slowly left
as I instructed, holding -- from swaying into a taxi's path

-- you. Laughed.
Because you got it as it happened. You saw it, as I did.
We saw them align. Together. Howard Roark tossed his
sheets aside and leapt out of bed. I turned to your throat

kissing it for the first time ever, as your gaze never altered.
Laughing with me drowning everything that does not --

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Last Thought

Last Thought

We are my last thought.
In the interim sharing much
of whatever now should mean.

The opposite of regret, a rock
on a tomb, sealing nothing.
Heels kicking sand to a sky.

Wings on the thermal. Leaves
drinking sunlight. Clouds ready.
Canyons in a yawn, thirsty.

Everything, forever pointing in
icicles, late in the year. Saying
one will think this, for two.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

April-Thoughts

April-Thoughts

The coniferous are the least vociferous.
Your pines, larches, firs -- these know.
Winter's coming, we're staying the course.
The bravest cypresses were Vincent's.

January's going to freeze your sap
so shut your yap. That was the call
bellered by a redwood. A shiver
acquiescent shook needle to cone.

Dudes, when things get rough, drop.
The deciduous forest nodded, knocking a few
leaves free early. Someone will rake us.
In the meantime, think April-thoughts.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

It Was The World

It Was The World

Mornings I would wait for them.
I never knew it then, but I did, I waited.
They had a way of arriving. Of staying --
He'd read the paper or a book.
She'd bury herself in a Harpers or New Yorker.
-- of making me feel young.

Feigning a chore I would lean forward
just to hear some of their talk.
Refill his coffee, her tea, slowly, to catch more of it.
Those words between them like dew on grass,
sunlight aslant.

A wayward blueberry on her lip once sat
and she smiled, unbeknownst. No napkin
but his finger, lifted it. Right then it was the world.
When his head bent slightly to the left,
so did mine, and I loved her too.

So, today, when the bell tinkled,
and I turned with two saucers in my hands
toward one man -- nothing more needed to be said.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Spilled

Spilled

Most of the morning I was in good spirits.
Smiling at times, talking to people, commending
them on their journey. So good to see you.
Nods. Warm hands in mine, the more aggrieved.

Rehearsing salient points of the eulogy.
Reminding the officiating minister of a program
adjustment, I turned into the room she was in.
She, my mother.

Cannot be reduced to a pronoun.
I did not know this yet, but as I rounded the edge
of the coffin, my eyes vomited everything
that I have ever been. Clear. Salty. And spilled.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

She Doesn't Know

She Doesn't Know

Thinks that yesterday was something I've done before.
That tear was because of the sand, the wind
and my heart always beats that fast.

I've never even flown a kite before the string
between her fingers seared mine
soaring outwards in abandon.

Never clinked a glass with quite that dazzle.
Thrown back my own neck in a movie-perfect
laugh without a script.

She thinks that she is not the reason I have
never been myself before this very moment.
Now. And my heart always beats this fast.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Pumping Water

Pumping Water

Separate buses, but the same stops.
Yours the grade threes. Mine the fours.
The clamor.
We spilled out

between somewhere and other, sweating.
Thing is, right now it is all more real

Your kids surrounded you while mine
ran amok. Always in control, you.
Slapdash, my grade fours were rabid!

Unprepared slavering beasts
to your styrofoam cup-holding charges
drinking in satiated blasts.

than it was then. Me, wondering
for twenty years now...

Morning light is falling upon the shut eyes
once fixed upon a broken pump-handle.

the last word of your unfinished sentence
"Piece of ____."

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

A Wallet Moment

A Wallet Moment

I smashed a car because my arm was around you.
I smashed a car because I did not know how to drive.
I smashed a car because I had never driven one before.

This is my dad's car, you cried, in front of that 7-11.
And the guy was storming out of the place, swearing.
The most honest moment of my life. A wallet moment.

His door looked really pushed in. No. Demolished.
Without leaving my seat, as it got incredibly warmer,
I settled the matter. Will this eradicate the difficulty?

He sifted through some hundreds, peppered with fifties.
And nodded, as I went the extra mile, telling him of my
first night behind the wheel of anything faster than me.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Dancing Bear

Dancing Bear

Why have we not seen it yet?

It was a whimpering appeal -- not unlike the deflation
of desire. But the pace was maintained, lockstep
we were marching toward an explanation, or not.

Passing The Earl of Sussex, then Nicholas Hoare
you again moaned When and Where? Cried fatigue
if nothing else would keep you from this meeting.

But then we turned to the left and entered a courtyard.
I admit, I was startled when the clanging of my own skull
against the statue rivaled the clamor of your lips.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Chord

Chord

Not that you could see it, but a heavy snow
fell behind you. Droplets in flake form.
Who would imagine such a thing to exist?

Certainly I, in my current state, winking,
asking as if I knew the right answer
did not. Imagine… or know. Yet asked

you, Chord or individual note,
which do you prefer?

Non-answer, bald as the moon -- and just
louder than the white. The tilt of your head
was the purest of these I have ever heard.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

The List

The List

Vern. Vern Twist told me to do it. Make a list
he said. Write all the things you want in the
girl. Make sure you include sizes of things.
Have a look at her mother, she will be that
one day. What are your favorite foods?

Write that down. What you like to eat. Ask
her if she likes that stuff. Can she cook it?

Brown eyes. I would have never written that.
A laugh like a stranded seal. A worried look
when the word kitchen is mentioned.
Running my hands through your hair tonight,
last night, forever.
I am so glad I never listened to Vern.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

death with interruptions

death with interruptions

Shadows in a cave lengthen
an island unmoored drifts
at a red light a man rubs his eyes
in panic unbelief

Jesus tells the real story
while the stones of Lisbon
weep

He climbs a ladder in the archive
hides a phone book [shaking
rain from his hat]
clay dolls harden

Branches bow
pebbles roll forward and settle
no wave will push them further
the sun is dimmed
without cloud

all the words cannot tell it

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2010

Millennium Park

Millennium Park

My nostrils flare at the scent of dead meat
roasted and ready resting in the cheapest
whitest bread known to human civilization.

Yours have other designs -- sensing sugar
and fun -- pink whims of a child on a paper
roll spun as though invented for you alone.

I let my stomach rumble as I watched you at
those superfluous strands of nothingness --
tearing off your cotton candy -- I fell in love.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

The Right Answer

The Right Answer

Once you asked me about when it was
I knew I loved you. Vaguely I answered
citing a time when we danced so close.

I recalled your perfume, what you wore.
The joke of the night, and what you drank.
The song that a wannabe Robert Plant sang.

Truth be known, it was about the books.
If you were locked up for a year, food supplied...
your instant reply, Library, won me over.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

Not With You

Not With You

I think it comes from boredom. Or hot weather.
You've probably noticed that I'm not good at it.

Correction. I am a professional. The best. But
not with you -- no. When you drop the gloves?

I want to pick them up for you. I'm not there.
Bareknuckle fisticuffs? All the more, I'm undone.

It must be so difficult for you to fight with me.
To argue with someone while they eat your spit.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Further Than The Garden

Further Than The Garden

Just beyond it are deer. Two of them, munching
what is rightfully theirs. Defying no fence, and
asking for nothing more, making no sound.

They were doing this before either of us noticed.

Where are the binoculars? No, the camera! I said.
And you slapped my arm, Shush! Let them be!
Ouch, I fell upon you laughing, as they looked up.

We were doing this before either of them noticed.

Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

Two Drinks

Two Drinks

There. The deck chair and the blue towel. Your book.
Isabel Allende. But [he sets them down] you. Gone.

And scans everywhere at a glance. Paba Tan spf 15.
Cap open. Guy selling hats. Calypso music. Sand.

You should be -- you should be -- she should be --
And a sound, a laugh he knows in the ocean, laughs.

The sun clips the water, the very wave swallowing her
promises him. She is here. She will drink this, with me.

c. Ciprianowords Inc., 2010

Your Book

Your Book

Reading two different ones we leaned against
the root-entwined trees. Under the same sun,
different branches, shading.

I asked if you were enjoying yours. You nodded
without turning to me. I set mine down. A cloud
just then, reminded you of me.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

Ceremony

Ceremony

During a certain portion I fell out of my depth.
It was not only how the fans were waving
or the foreign gibberish. I could deal with that.
Two things threw me further than I was able
to reel myself in. Your scent and your eyes.

Something like lilacs would smell to someone
who had never been near any. And above all
more than anything, the way you turned as the
tea was poured into my cup. The host asked me
to stand, but I was falling, shoeless, face-first.

Onto a planet
where no lilac, pink-purple, ever bloomed.

c. Ciprianowords Inc., 2010

Moth To Flame

Moth To Flame

The hinge of his mind a rusted gate latch
scratched shut as the moon drew his eye.
Hand in hair, the swaying branches push
him from his table to let the wind twist the
empty page. Wax fell -- and is still falling
from the near side of the candle. This one.

This fire that struck the moth, fluttering in.
Window opened, his muse was not long
in the telling -- What we most desire shall
consume us, and the having take us whole.
This he wrote, newly inspired. An unhinged
man, turning vellum o'er the charred wings.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010

I Lost It

I Lost It

He runs, tipping the backyard garbage pail.
In the kitchen, mom is peeling a carrot.
Knife clanging in the sink, he grabs her leg.

[A robin hobbles on the neighbor's lawn.
Last look at own entrails… open beak.
Worms underground crawl heedless.]

Darling, darling, she bends and lifts,
wiping away his tears --
Where is your new slingshot?

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Coffee Forest

Coffee Forest

Pretty sure it does not grow like this,
I kept dreaming. Trees like sequoias
dangling coffee beans.

Men on scissor-lifts hacking at vines.
The berries falling as I strangled
my pillow.

Other men, side-spike boots, climbing
and cutting as they got higher,
tossed a branch or two, to me.

All of these characters I forget, recalling
your brown eyes, Evita. Recording names
and activities in your ledger.

Following your calves into the quonset
where I pretended to know why I was there
as the sun was setting.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Poems

Poems

Listen to me because I am not saying anything.
Every day of your life is a minimum of twenty of these.
Or thirty.
Or more. No less than ten, if you made it from bed
to toilet. And then drove a car.

Or rode a bus.

Or got back in bed.

So quit asking me things. Quit trying to say stuff.
All the time, yammer, yammer. Is the world so quiet
that you must elaborate?

And yet --
when your lapel caves in because your ribs are dust --
someone will be writing words you cannot fathom now.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Sweat

Sweat

Horizon to horizon, it melts me, the sun does.
Sunday to Sunday, I bend to gather what will
never
belong to me or mine.

Water to water, from my brow to this leaf.
Cell to cell, soaking. I am crumpled, working
ever
thirsty, dripping wine.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

That Tree

That Tree

I think if we lived to a million we would know it.
Not much different looking than the others, but
it's the feeling.

The knowing that of all these, it was this one
holding the back of your head, that night.
That first kiss.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Between One and Two

Between One and Two

To do this on a lunch break -- it's Hoover Dam
functional on Tuesday, first blast after the weekend.
But it's what we've got, so look at me. Look

with your eyes closed. I will hold your hand, so
thankful to you, for keeping yours there, in mine.
Now listen to what is passing, without words.

To achieve it on a lunch break. I will take this.
Listen to the electricity telling you that we are
a complete, mathematical number that does not exist.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Beckonings

Beckonings

I've lived a life of simple excitements.
Walked streets where a low branch
struck me in the hair. No obstruction,
a beckoning.

Have heard drops, looking up.
Icicles, for the life of them, struggling
to be what they are, in the sun
melt.

Leaves and water droplets. Hopping
birds, grey as mud. In a perfect world
this hunter after waiting forever lowers
a rifle.

And a deer, fawn beside, munches
chlorophyll. There I am, using past tense
in the first sentence. Knowing it
now.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Grumpy Bastard

Grumpy Bastard

You and I watched him talk to someone.
Maybe himself. Possibly someone else.
The inner layer of his Egg McMuffin?
Certain communicable properties of his
klondike mustache? The guy was upset.
He had already had a bad day, at 9 a.m.

Basically, don't give him a gun.
It's a Monday morning. He doesn't go to work
today. Nor any day this upcoming week.
But do not prolong your gaze. He will
tear your eyes out, and shit on them.
Because you looked at his.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Hailstones, Finn Field

Hailstones, Finn Field

A modern car would have folded in on itself
an empty Evian bottle pelted with meteorites.
But I had that '72 Pontiac Ventura. Blue, yet.

Those were days when we ran to all storms
craving proximity to anything unpredictable.
Lusting about the possibility of devastation.

Wanting floods floodier, quakes quakier
hoping the news was worse, we watched.
You gave me the look, I grabbed a jacket.

A tornado in a western county, moving east.
Does anyone need to know more? You
tossed me the keys as we both jumped in.

We reclined on that windshield, waiting
as lightning flashed horizontal. Finn Field
never housing more astute, hometown fans.

Bring it on, suck us on up to Kansas! Do it!
And the first one hit you on the second
exclamation point. And the next, my knee.

Heavenly Top Flites unleashed, we rolled
in opposite directions, laughing, screaming
Lock the doors, you yelled, as we cowered.

Something neither of us imagined, fell down
from somewhere, and we laughed. We knew
then, that moment, that we had done it all.

Tonight, it seems I am dying in this bed.
And the thing I know, as I leave all, is that
your hair is wet, and you want me to Lock --

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Shift

Shift

I always slow down for the orange
so I can stop at the red looking up.
Look up and see the inner blue glow.
The flower pots hanging still moist
from times we watered those plants.

You lifted your arm once to throw an
empty wine glass but I saved you from
your own eviction. You stumbled back
backwards hitting your sweet head on
that very pot the one that is - Red

light - Was a time I had a key to
that glow. Dangled from this ignition.
I had a key and I would park there.
Right there. I accelerate. Driving on
for the red has now turned to green.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Pleiades

Pleiades

Who drives 50 miles to see kittens? We did.
You recall, I even packed a sandwhich or two.
The superfluous "h" denotes extra ham.

Admittedly, a bit of a whim. Who needs a cat?
We did, apparently. If your left eyebrow was
13% more plucked I would've missed the hint.

You wanted a male, and he was the only one.
Seven sisters squirming. Driving back, that
cloudless night in May, the name came to me.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Reasonable Facsimile

Reasonable Facsimile

Back in the day, and admittedly, you were not born yet
but I was already past high school, college, and worried
that my urine was trickling slower than last year they had
contests where you did not even need the original form.

I forget [Alzheimer's?] what it was called but it
was as if they were going to trust that you had seen the
factory model. And somehow misplaced it. Here, just
take this piece of paper. Get a pen. Sit down and --

There was a time when I could have spelled my name
and yours in that very snowbank, glistening golden.
With punctuation. But time marches on. Things
-- change that empty space there into what they call a

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Sleep

Sleep

The first effect is gravity. The situation
of being sideways. One with the horizon.
As Heart says That's more like it
Brain tells hundreds of switchboard
operators they can punch the clock.

We're going into auto-pilot. Voluntary
muscles de-conscript -- ........ now!

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2010

The Upright Position

The Upright Position

I knew it was ten without counting. Because
instantly I knew everything. The cabbie that
hit me would die from a heart attack twelve
years from now. Huffing and puffing, yelling
in whatever language, I saw him dialing on
his cellphone -- and a volcano fuming away.

Squares sort of revolving, and as they spun

Coming out of a homeless shelter throwing
a sandwich against the curb shouting, Fuck!
Stale! Seeing me, the same man pointed
laughing. And a baby was crying in a crib.

they became triangles, and now ten perfect
spheres were the backsides of the squares.

A girl lit a candle and stuck it in the neck of
a wine bottle. Sitting on the floor she moved
a ruby-red gem on a game board and a man
cried Damn. A pilot flicked a switch as eight
wheels came out of the belly and a steward

I realized, I guess, in that eternal moment
that there are no shapes -- only angles.

told a nun in full habit to return her tray to

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Ground Zero

Ground Zero

Where the towers had been we walked
Groves and I did The steel frame in
scattered shards here and there jutted
like a menacing stegosaurus Dead
from a bout with mathematical perfection

We spoke little knowing that worse would
pounded not into cactus and dirt days
hence but people be dropped Silent we
listened to sand turned to green glass
break apart under our boots

From there to the transport his hand
was on my shoulder Every step an echo
that this damn crunching is what the
earth sounds like when it cries On a
fuck-hot afternoon July of 1945

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Periphery

Periphery

Thankfully Puerto Vallarta has Walmex.
Second day in, I bought a racquet there.
Might have been your skirt, your mane,
or the way both bobbed, swaying, bringing
the corner of my eye to the balcony.

Third day, I was out there with my Yonex.
Walking around, waiting for no-one, while
the ball-machine spat yellow missiles.
Nothing got past your Prince. On a bench
I died death after death. Sweating.

Fourth day, fifth. I'm sitting there dissecting
every grunt. You bent to tie a lace, and I
leaned over heaven's banister. Without
looking left, you caught that bullet in your
hand. And I knew, I should go now.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010.

The Pines

The Pines

After the break, when she said it’s over
he found himself often among the trees
surrounding Pink Lake. But he was never
alone. Two boots, two legs, but never a
breath he took, without her.

It was the green needles, piercing him.
Smell is the sense that most reminds.
But he did not think this as he walked,
he just breathed, in and out. Knowing –
do not go home just yet. -- Walk.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

This Side of It

This Side of It

I feel, more than anything, [pause] No, but listen. To continue to misunderstand each other as we've been doing this whole time it's just / it seems so childish. [pause] OK, but isn't it possible to you that I felt the same? [pause] About you, yes, the way you were -- [pause] Admitted. Conceded. You win that one. But what do you think I've been doing since? Striking at a pinata somewhere? [pause] It's not at all what it looked like -- No. No, I disagree. I could not care if his address were Third Crater, Mars. In fact, I wish [pause] Yes. I know where that is. [pause] I can be there sooner than that.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

Thursday: 1:08 a.m.

Thursday: 1:08 a.m.

Uncanny how I looked up, not needing to know
the time. Sensing the hands unmoving
minutes later, my gaze confirmed it.

Nothing a new battery can't fix, and so
in one goes. Later, pages later, I glance.
Has the world stopped spinning?

I smile because I've outlived this device.
But when does the parade start?
One second I will exhale myself.

Tickless, tockless.
Not -- knowing -- what --
-- time -- it -- is.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010