Poetry Blog by Lucas B. Foley

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Big Sal on Crescent (Tue, 18 Dec 2018 02:19 pm)

Big Sal on The End, Again (Tue, 18 Dec 2018 02:17 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Pier 39 (Mon, 21 Mar 2016 11:04 am)

Adam Whitworth on Sleep (Tue, 26 Jan 2016 12:46 pm)

into the body, home

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bodyhomemindfulness

฿「ε∀∓ɥƎ

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bebreathefeel

god's grandeur

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"The world is charged..."

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44395/gods-grandeur

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Gerard Manley HopkinsGod's Grandeur

minding wall

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"Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;"

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Mending WallRobert Frost

The Death of a Toad (tribute to Richard Wilbur)

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https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=24922

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sound I

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sound

Preface (2008)

Preface

This collection describes my development over the past two years, tracing a shift from conventional meditations (“EVENT”) to radical experiments (“SOUND”) to idiosyncratic narratives (“TWINK”). I hesitate to call this development “progress,” insofar as that implies the newer ones are better. But I do see it as a progress of the Hegelian sort, with a thesis (“EVENT”), antithesis (“SOUND”...

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twink

first

tongue curling with concentration twink forces a final errant note from the keys sunday evening self
instruction silence in the hallway massaging its brow searching his thick book for a thrilling little ditty twink hears a familiar throat clear at the door i’m sorry twink states stretching his fingers the maestro is no longer taking requests

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twink

new

whine all you want ramsey shouts over her shoulder we’re going to the goddam top dawn nearly trail
gnarly breath bursting from mouths in clouds crunching his way up the final few feet twink wheezes shivers and beholds the great sight soak it up warns ramsey poised for descent we have a lake to reach by noon

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twink

rise

nose completely picked twink figures it’s time for another nap balmy day gentle breezes barking and bubbles adrift in the park counting pelicans one by one as they glide over waves in his mind twink notices a tiny tongue
bathing the tips of his toes it’s your birthday twink reminds himself you can wiggle them a bit

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twink

more

shoveling salsa onto a well salted chip twink taunts his hunger with an unrequired pause windless day wisdomless wandering sunlight angling though the windows like blades munching slowly with maximum noise twink reads the back of a frail teen’s shirt well fuck you too twink thinks with a smile while wondering what it says on the front

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twink

peach

as rubber gloved ramsey scrubs his plate twink lets it out another notch mellow sunset fireflies
flickering cathedral bells tinkling gaily in the distance opening the paper with an authoritative snap twink crosses his legs sighs and puffs his pipe the only thing missing from this dream twink dreams is some coffee and a slice of pie

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twink

rate

crisp breath sucked momentously through his nose twink begins the semiannual jog wine colored morning waves gently peeling wind yawning to life in the west heaving his soaking body down the shoe smacked path twink notices a plucky terrier trotting effortlessly at his side i twink wheezes have nothing twink wheezes to say twink wheezes to you

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twink

turn

a wave awash at his ankles twink stops so the sandcrabs can tickle his soles late summer early afternoon messages littered all over the sky stepping gingerly from one footprint to the next twink smiles and recites his
favorite of the day marry me kevin the plane’s banner had read or i’m going to texas with tom

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twink

embed

passing a pair of headphoned joggers twink winks and holds his breath sprinklers hissing papers landing darkness grudgingly giving way sleepless boozy i am the black cat to the black cat twink hoists an orange traffic cone to his lips there is something i am supposed to shout twink shouts and i don’t think this is it

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twink

everything

sucking chocolate sauce from his fingers twink steps unwittingly into a city bus’s path grapefruit sun sherbert sky clouds sliding by in scoops of vanilla yanked to the sidewalk by the scruff of his shirt twink feels the soul shark go blowing past now that says the stranger releasing twink’s collar is what they call a lesson

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twink

layer

gazing westward through a pioneer squint twink guides the sinking sun with a finger beach emptying sand cooling surfers bobbing in the surfless sea having pressed the final bit down with his palm twink dusts his hands rises and takes a few bows it’s beer time announces twink heading east the moon can take care of itself

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twink

race

daddy needs a new pair of flipflops twink scans his wrinkled program for a winner dog track dollar beers kids squealing in an inflatable dragon sneaking a whiff of his felt tipped pen twink circles his pick nods and heads to the window in the ninth twink tells a bespectacled walrus twenty on spanish dan to win

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twink

night

squeezed between a blonde and a trio of bears twink orders two rums from the devil webs stretching lights strobing blood streaking down vampire chins worming through the throng with a dagger in his teeth twink returns at last to his wench smile says ramsey pulling a pen from her cleavage it’s time to reblacken that tooth

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twink

about

peering into his always empty fridge twink hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmms and departs for a sandwich pockets jingling stomach growling drips gathering into drops on his brow arriving at the dark but should be open deli twink finds the word sorry taped to the door friend twink scrawls on the note in reply you do what you got to do

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twink

away

still swelling with reacquired vim twink stays till the end of the credits mind blazing eyes shining chest flooding with the heart’s hottest stuff humming his rendition of the film’s stirring score twink pushes a door squints
and rejoins the noise much love in this flock twink silently states and much strangeness that need not be explained

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twink

purpose

determined to determine his destiny’s course twink searches his couch for a quarter hollow morning howling spirits the cupboards overflowing with overfamiliar food slapping the flipped coin onto the back of his hand twink shuts his eyes gulps and takes a deep breath heads i keep doing what i’m doing twink proclaims tails and i flip again

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twink

however

exiting the serpent house with a shudder twink heads the simian way lions sleeping tigers sleeping
bears chugging gallons of honey in dreams bypassing a heap ofsnoozing gorillas twink beholds a
one armed gibbon go go gadgeting on his gym now you twink declares poking his finger against the glass are most certainly earning your food

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twink

ear

indignant eternal caterpillar twink has been pounding from the pitcher again post audition mid december santa on the synthesizer in shades having rerehearsed his pair of obsolete lines for the trio of bearded novelists on the wall twink restarts his invisible orchestra with a pinky o ho when santa croons iz zat red little nose gonna glow

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pen

graffitied and missing a recently purchased sandal twink tells the bearded cabbie anywhere but here july fourth 3pm busy boardwalk buzzing with bikinis and skates rubbing a big you know what on his wrist twink spots a short message scrawled on his palm look at your other palm twink does and finds the same message written there

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ocean

a city bus twink whiskery disembarks heavy jawed greasy seeking tortillas & cheese in cornycopiousness and cold ale sun blazing in a thigh high yellow soccer jersey a streaky overcooked blonde clicks past glossy purple lips fat in a pout eyeliner thick black and fresh foam throated twink head shaking emits the sizzle sound of a roach

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Miles From

It helps when you realize
that there is no wind,

just a 

highhellothere

& miles and miles of shuddering cock
and trees
getting big,
sometimes real big,
trying to fly
on a day like this

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Subtle Upsides

Drives the leash tight
with subtle upsides
and the swells of Midway

roll, skitter, and with no sail
I am litter & I kiss

Pollock while one drives

the leash tight
with subtle upswing
and the squeak of sneakers
(the pitter-pat laces)
THE WIND
an Aleutian hopscotch


That swirls just
like my private Pollock -
a pitch paste pitched
like waffle batter
across the cracked
parking...

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The End, Again

Fsht, fsht
shloop
tcht, clinkink
glunk, glunk
glunk

Wipe
Ahoy! and
alooooooooo
ha!
*** (*)
Courthouse on grass
Edicts afoot, preambles
inciting caveats
WHEREAS
ahem
two once made four
and now make two, let them
be one on the stuff everyone
here was on
oh
thirty years ago
and their kids are on
Oh…
&WHEREAS we waft to
bumble bee’s bristles
awaiting rub and
release toward ...

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Charcoal Motorcade Profile

Spangled
With coffee cups
And three coats
Of lawyers she waved

Not like
A queen but a
Soup blown
And We

Watched from
Left side for terror
On right while


She tore the
Legs from spun
Sugar spiders

Until contrails flooded our
Ways and banks no
Longer held the


Slips we’d slide
Bearing her picture &

Winking eye

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black harsh blue

emerging from the black

mountain tunnel harsh

sun sky slowly, indelicately, blue

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Crescent

Floating low

 

To the east

 

In this long night’s sky

 

The crescent moon’s bright

 

Face seems

 

To be gazing

 

Down expectantly

 

At something blazing

 

Magnificently far

 

Below the black horizon

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Pier 39

opening wings he charges

the other scurries and settles

he charges again the other

scurries and settles again he

charges the other scurries and

hops off the flat wooden rail and

flies across the calm

green harbor toward the barking

sea lions basking obesely

on the low wooden docks

set aside for them a boy

run-stumbles-pointing-squealing

gull! gull! he opens his ...

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Mountain Lake Park

This backpack—

Not the pillow we’d hoped it would be

The trees are muscular and quiet

The shade swings and stretches

You told me once

That it is always hiding from the sun

There is so much left to say

The park—it is

So small and popular

Ripple-bright pond

Busy swingset screeching

In its choppy pond of sand

That sound it makes reminds us

Of implacable seagulls

...

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Pop

On a hot beach, a young man holds

in one hand an ice cold can of soda,

unopened, and in the other hand the tiny

aluminum tab he managed to pop clean off.

Feeling dizzily incapable of doing

even the simplest thing right, the thirsty young

man closes his eyes and envisions a painting

happening magically on a canvas:

He dips his brush into a dish

of cherry red paint, carefu...

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Franceska

Her stride was a bursting

heart. Nine good years

of thirst she gave me.

She taught me to love

marble—the way her heels

could make it click.

There was a green river

miles from our wooden house.

It’s where we went

to chug wine and make promises.

We had sports cars and scarves.

We made love barbarically

with the television off.

Somehow the cats slept

through ...

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reheating fish

twenty seconds is not

enough time to think

about the novel I’m writing

or the poem I have to

write not enough time

to call my mom trim

my fingernails rinse

the cereal bowl I used

this morning seven

seconds now wait six

almost down to five

just not enough time for

anything, three

just barely enough to

think of things I’ll do one

day when I have some time

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Happy Bear

An apple, a pear, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich

land at my feet, tossed from the rail by a bony little one

who turned and ran before they hit the ground.

 

I devour the unexpected treat, and then I sit

in the shade enjoying the nothing sound,

my happy tongue roving my face in search

 

of crumbs and splotches, which I pack

in my cheek so the thrill can pool ...

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Shot

Emerging breathless from a shadowy forest I saw him standing across a bright meadow having just emerged from a shadowy forest of his own. I aimed my rifle at him and he aimed his rifle at me. I pulled the trigger and my bolt jammed. Panicked I dropped to my belly and worked frantically at the bolt and saw he was doing the same. Studying him through a squint I noticed that we were dressed in the sa...

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Maybe a Gymboree

Tired of being his loony self only while alone in his apartment and believing there were others out there who spoke to themselves in various accents while folding laundry and harangued invisible counterparts and lied on the floor squirming and hooting and motor-mouthing gibberish he decided to convene a meeting where people could come and be loony in the same space not a sex club not a drug den he...

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Sleep

Sleep

 

Melt in slowly, like

cold butter into toast. Or suddenly,

like rain into a smoky black sea.  

 

Detune and let a snowy static overcome.

 

Shake any polaroids back

to their original beige wash.

 

Stop asking “am I gone yet?”

for that question answers itself.

 

Remember, it is and isn’t

like surfing a standing wave,

like dragging a sti...

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81

i grinned at death with those same lips death grinned back wider o i feared nothing then

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A Half Moon Gazes

to the west

      a half moon gazes

                                     down brightly

                                                                       at the sunken sun

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Tiger

for Carrie


Within yourself you suddenly sense the presence of a ferocious tiger. You can calm him. Here’s how. Squat down and look steadily into his wild eyes. Notice your breathing. He will growl and pace and snap at you. No matter what happens, keep your eyes on his. Once his rage burns off he’ll put his snout right up against yours and hold completely still and glare at you with an icy, all-...

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The Bud Man

Thirteen years old, we launched water balloons at his tiny apartment

in the hope he’d finally notice us. He was the Bud Man.

Written on his curb, in melted surf wax, was “Camp Bud ‘90.”

He drank Buds in his concrete yard with other local surfers,

the Bud Men. They were older, but not old. They were

so cool and didn’t act cool, which was beyond cool.

Big waves, cold Buds, bab...

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