jeudi 30 juillet 2015

Mâlain Diaries 23 - Agape Grounded

Mâlain Diaries 23 - Agape Grounded


Roman foundations here
out last
drought and fire, seigneurs,
mairies, witches drown under
this priest; praised
under another.

Still under,
their smooth white steps
carry children playing,
potted geraniums or
women in red stilettos.
Expertly unchanged
for 3,000 years.

For three mille grazie,
I long for love so unreserved
that its road never sinks
but steadily rises its solid
hands up to meet me.
Hands that may hold me
steady; make me feel secure.

Keep me on course.

Mâlain Diaries 22 - Teenagers

Mâlain Diaries 22 - Teenagers


Oh my god. I cannot believe you
will just go up to a
random stranger and ask
that question.

I will stay over here; pretend
to tie my shoe or
read  signs on the lamp
Post me
when it’s all over.

Oh my god. I cannot believe you
are going to just go find out
those directions from some
alien.

I will duck around this
doorway, pretend to be
with someone else;
independent of your
duster ways.

I contain DNA survivor instinct
buried deep within.
Know I need to segregate
from you before the dominate
crowd attacks.

I need you;
I must be me.

Sooo, what’d she say?

mercredi 29 juillet 2015

Mâlain Diaries 21 - Saint André des Arts

Mâlain Diaries 21 - Saint André des Arts


Elder wooden beams still
house these rooms.
New plaster
filling space by
white modern walls,
and bright contemporary l.e.d.’s
 - curios.
Ancestral rock eyes push through  ever-
multiplying empty pallids of rooms.
We were here first,’ they whisper.

Newcomers don’t listen.
They take
over. Strip the sacred archs and
irregular curves drawn by original
peoples.  Drill in
cut them back, space by
space. Encroach  with
strict, sterile lines;
90° white corners.
No variation
Except.

Wires and electricity
that buzz and lights
disturbing the long-
forgotten sleep extinguishing
night from day.  They change
the natural elements of old.

‘Erase recollection,’ they cry.

Mâlain Diaries 20 - The Train

Mâlain Diaries 20 - The Train


I took a train by and by.
Sometimes the train was a slow
one, stopping, waiting
at every small village and corner
along my way.

Sometimes a TGV, speeding through
places,
parts that
  a second look,
may have had ma clé,
now gone.
A whist;
of me.

Sometimes my greatest desire was for the
train to speed. Up. Through those icky bits as-fast-as-pulling-a-bandaid.
Those days the engine broke. There was a strike. Or a suicide
on the track. I sustained.

Sometimes I wanted the train to slow, allow me time
to stop and savour petit mauve lilacs I saw in a field;
the dark eyes of a man who seemed
my mate; or a
conversation I yearned to relish, recall.
Those days the train was always ahead of
Schedule, moving so swiftly what I
sought, lost.

Now my last train. The Journey’s End I
jumped to get, a misstep.
The Express I chose, regret,

buy and bye.

vendredi 24 juillet 2015

Mâlain Diaries 19 - Pain de Bourgogne

Mâlain Diaries 19 - Pain de Bourgogne


Made for the hard dry ground
of the country. Big and Brown
Heavy solid Bludgers Built of
Bulky Black crusty seed. This?
No wispy erratic powderpuff
of Paris. But a Bifstek you can
saw through or stop transport
trucks with. The Bourguignon

of Bulky, determined Breads.