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

Dragon

Dragon

I thought I will awaken.
And when I do, the rooftops
will be above me.
Those we swooped over.

Rolling, hugging my pillow
everything would make sense.
Fall into another adventure
perhaps -- But.

Why is this blood
The credits would roll now.
dripping from where I pinched
my arm?

Upon these green scales.
And the houses. The village.
We are so above everything
as lightning flashes.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Poof

Poof

"The gist" is an interesting phrase.
Gist. What people mean is, Hey! The
crux of the matter, or The point is,
etc. Within the superfluity, lies this.
Or, What granny's really sayin' is...

So, forgive my confusion. Surely tonight
when Cherise brought that third Collins
and you said I am done painting you
Austin, you didn't mean, you didn't mean,
what I mean is, you were not saying --

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Ten and Shorter

Ten and Shorter

Is it wrong for us to be in love?
I mean, you're taller and eleven.
I'm ten and shorter.

That first dinner I guessed it.
Your mother had to bring you.
My father, me.

Day after day we're on our own.
Well, when school's out
and they work.

I have never been happier.
One day I will tell you.
But -- not today.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Necessary

Necessary

You want to know the very thing
I don't. And so, when I back away
don't get closer. Have you never
read a single psychology book
or article? Something advising
that the defensive devices of the
average human evolved because
they were necessary?

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

The Gentle Hug

The Gentle Hug

Ten years on Dad, I feel again the strength.
The weakness around my neck. Power of
the gentle hug. The water in the corner of
your eye. What I would give now to see it
reflect
the bales of hay, or the perch caught.
The spoon in the tea, the oil changed,
the ghost seen, the garden gardened,
or Helen discovered.

The phone answered. The clink of you
dropping screws into a jar labelled "screws".
Re-aligning that pendulum. Once I awoke
in the night. At the end of the hallway
I saw you cracking hazelnuts as though
only the snow falling outside knew
neither of us were sleeping.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

He or I

He or I

The world, life, affords us a few.
But more likely, less. One.
One that becomes half a poem's
title. That person you hope dies
after you do.

You could not bear it, the loss.
In utter selfishness, you wish grief
upon him. May the burden of
eulogy, be his. Even then,
make it quick.

We dragged nothing in life further
than it could go. Don't change that.
Please? No hearing ear would discern
the subtleties. When only what was,
is.

c. Ciprianoword, Inc. 2009

Directions

Directions

I like the way there was that void under the floor mat
for empty beer bottle placement, and the launching
of other detritus. Your Valiant was a sturdy vehicle.
Built for adventure. Hell, it was true to its name.

Brian, do you remember the McDonald's Drive-Thru
on a wintry south Albert night? You recited an army
sized order as I folded the back license plate in half.
Handing me the bag of burgers, you floored it.

But we floundered on a patch of ice -- the car slapping
the wall as I yelled at Jesus. Then [miracle] we were off.
North as Alaska. And I laughed so hard the floor mat
was gone. White dotted lines, zipping past that hole.

More to the right! More to the right!

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Parry's Paragraph

Parry's Paragraph

Two doctors with clipboards clippety cloppity.
Hearing, the last sense to leave, hears them
ask something in that unlit tunnel. Mr Parry,
we were notified. You have some words that

I will be cutting through to. You. I will be cut.
I will be cutting. -- Through. Through. I will
be. I, Will, will be cutting through to you. I will
be using my fingers to --

you mentioned to Nurse Millicent. You wanted
these sent to an L.B. Is that correct? Address
is recorded? I think he's gone. He is. Lips were
moving but I got none of that, did you? No. No.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Bounced (At Chesil Beach)

Bounced (At Chesil Beach)

The sun. The eyelid of it, was shutting.
And we, nowhere near done discussing
Hardy's relentless pessimism, were waxing
inarticulate, when you kicked that thing.

It floundered and flounced, somersaulted,
bounced. And landed on another rock,
as we very nearly stopped, and did not.
It was the walking on I shall not forget.

As though you had not defied gravity, nor
thrust one being upon another, neither
concave. Rounded, these met, shivering,
at their polar regions, and stayed.

What I love is that you said nothing. Nor
did I. Our held hands blessed your cairn,
as fireflies heard of Tess, Angel, and
Stonehenge, for [perhaps] the first time.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Mom's Rhubarb Pie

Mom’s Rhubarb Pie

Who would think that green dragon wings
in the garden corner, clustered in a coven
could be attached to something so tasty?
Purple stalks hidden by this unruly canopy.
Bite one and consider the artistry needed.
Slicing, sugaring, syrupping, spicing –
A flaky crust must then be conjured, and all
baked into existence.

Tonight, at a whim, I walked into Memories.
Known for their desserts.
At a window seat I sipped a Monte Cristo coffee.
The glimpsed mile-high imposter on display
danced in my head, but I did not take her hand.
Did not order a slice. It would not be as good.
Could not be, as good.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Like A Runway

Like A Runway

Does heavy cloud cover mean the game is off?
They have instruments, even instinct, been-here-before
to guide them. Flying blind, there are few unknowns
really. Barring divine intervention, this hotel will go
where they put it. Delta-192 clear on Apron 11-B, Over.

The only way these 2,400 miles have been predictable
is repetition. The walkway is slowly extended toward
the door. Soon, someone who failed high school will
usher us onward, and we'll go. Honey, nothing is perfect.
But, as I lick your knees, your inner thigh, and upward,

everything that is happening, eyes closed, is --

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Worsted

Worsted

Yes. Nice try. And I was born last night in a barn!
He lifts the two end tiles -- The word means yarn,
she pleads, slapping them back. Having none of it,
he grabs her wrists, saying, Where is the fun of it
if you keep inventing stuff like this? She pouts,
reaching for the dictionary. Listen, he shouts,
If you think I'm conceding six points for your 'd'
landing on the triple letter score, you're crazy!

He turns away as she holds the page up to his eyes.
Be happy with your five letters. Do you realize
you've won the last two games? Leaving the book
open on the table, she allows him this second look.
But he folds the board. And as the tiles clatter
so does her heart, in as many pieces, shatter.
She runs away, and the bedroom door is slammed,
as worsted stares back at him. Well, I'll be damned.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

A Piece of Sunset

A Piece of Sunset

There you are, washing the egg-flipper.
No. Not somewhere else, but right here,
same world I inhabit. Same walls.
Same bills. Same toilets. Same children.

A few strands of your hair fall forward.
Others remain tied. Rinsed forks clatter
like castanets, defying anything domestic.
Strutting a fandango -- you aren't here.

I lean in closer to hear you humming,
nearly falling in the sand at your feet. I know
that song goddammit -- a piece of sunset
made you squint. And I remembered.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

First Friday

First Friday

Breakfast on the same side of the table.
Had you not insisted on this, we'd never have known.

I love when you first suggested such a thing. Other
meals matter not. In the morning, our shoulders will touch.

So there we were, with our cereal, that first Friday.
After a swallow, I turned my spoon toward you.

Curved side out, all's well. Flipping it round, concave,
well, everything between us is awry.

There was nothing for me to do but excuse myself
and stand behind your chair as you leaned back.

I cupped your breasts, and we kissed, topsy turvy.
All the while, how glad I was, you chose this configuration.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Aunt Elsie

Aunt Elsie

Not just the clanging of the dinner bell.
Difficult as this is to forget. Or her shrill call.
The walk-in-and-wander food pantry.
None of this brings her back as clearly to me as that
squint she had, sun or no. Nothing to do with light.

That narrowing of the eyes meant laughter, sadness,
punishment, linoleum repairs, change the channel,
chicken heads to be cut off, storm tomorrow, I had too
many children, or most of all, most of all -- open
yours as much as you can, while you can.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Billboard

Billboard

Being from a small town, I know that the first time I saw one I marveled.
Gasped and marveled. Perhaps not in that order.
May have marveled first.
I had not seen advertisement in such a large scale. I was overwhelmed.
Sincerely. As a child, profoundly enamored. Nothing held precedence.
There was one -- it said something about Percival Mercury, the best cars
were here -- Jesus, why would you go somewhere else? I could not breathe.
Can we move to this city, Father?

We are working on it, Son.
I would have endured any trial to get to the land of Billboard.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

The Sieve

The Sieve

Here's what I am saying.
When sent, message trumps messenger.
Receiver reads sent, not intended to convey.
All thoughts come in at the top of the head.
They filter down. God help you if there is no
sieve.

My mother had several. None of them were
installed in her head, but she made terrific rolls.
I've excelled in different areas. No baking.
But I try to ensure that what I say
has fallen through what would have left flour
trapped.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

A Puff of Steam

A Puff of Steam

I've never eaten one of these, until tonight.
If it were only that walk through Lannis Park
where we heaped leaves in a pile, and fell,
kicking like kids. If it were only that look.
The bug-eyed one when your steak arrived.
I told you, at The Mill, rare means raw!

If it were only the way you let me lick the salt
from your fingers at the movie. How you cried.
And then, remember that nametag? When I
touched it and said, "Isaac, she said Tic-Tacs!"
You spit several, later, in perfect trajectory,
to my mouth. If it were only this. Only this.

We had walked until the Earth threatened to
return us to our origins. All the while laughing.
Loving. I removed my right glove, you, your left.
You exhaled the moon. I sucked every molecule
into my lungs, and I would have willingly fallen
backwards, nothing but air to not catch me.

-- c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009 --

Crumpling

Crumpling

You and I have never gone for forgiveness purely
for the sake of morality. And I am thankful. It's less
confusing this way. But God, we like writing, huh?

How many have I received from you? Hundreds?
Notes threatening everything -- murder to suicide.
Historically, you have had better subject matter.

So, of course, your stuff will be getting good reviews.
Now, I've just fashioned a bestselling little diatribe.
But, planning to leave it here, the walls become thin.

Between this and the next room, I hear a weeping.
Crumpling what I've written, I quietly move myself,
and at that doorway, resolve -- to never write again.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Gold and White

Gold and White

Tell me two true things my dear, and we heard a flapping.
Well, the water is gold and those darlings are white.

Au contraire, said I. You speak of solar reflection.
And no bird was ever all white, it is but their feathers.

This is when you, pulling a clump of sod, fed me it.
And I rolled you off the blanket as those wings beat the air.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Flipping The Pages

Flipping The Pages

Concentration level. Lack of distraction.
Both of these factor into the final equation.
Mb + Hb = Siadf. And "b" is a constant.
We are reading the same book!

I lower my sunglasses and do that lateral
eyeball roll, trying to see her page number.
Good Lord! It's not possible. 135?
We've only been here on the beach an hour!

Let's see, that guy came around with drinks,
and then, oh yes, I snoozed a bit, but still!
How can I only be at 35? Without the 1 in front!
My book + Her book = She is always done first.

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009

Outdoing The Moon

Outdoing The Moon

Walking from the theater, the wet asphalt glistening
under our shadows preceding and receding, streetlamps
outdoing the moon. You, waving that persistent cabbie
on – there are others, needier than us Ishmael. Find them,
and God be with you – spoken in faux bigotry only I heard.

You are someone always on stage, yet never. Being
more than a self, the star opts for understudy, or prompter.
The person that draws, closes the curtain. How lovely
to walk beside you and know who you really are, this night.
This damp, glorious encore. Not an opening scene, but a bow.

I refer to the light now falling from the hotel window, onto
your sleeping face. Earlier, when Gavroche was shot
you reached over, and catching my tears, ate them --
Never once taking your eyes from the stage, nor caring
that I saw it all -- How then, am I now supposed to sleep?

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009