Quite a Bit of Confusion Concerning the Night Without You

21 Jul

In the gloaming we sit on the porch.
The ghosts of bottles reach out
capturing the last of the sun
as the ground eats it. The forest
grows dark. Twigs point like
twisted bone fingers scaring
the last of the eating birds

I roll two cigarettes slowly. I
reach out towards the distant
sunset. I hand Buck one as he
looks up from his notebook-
which contains the notes of
salvation for tomorrow’s
sermon. Voices yell inside
the kitchen, or maybe it
is the TV- that blue glass
teat someone suckles on

He talks to me of water
monsters, destroyers,
white mountain veils and
light bearers as messengers
of God. I reach out and
light his cigarette, and
light mine- a peacable
burning like the sun
weighed and divided
ashes scattered in

I listen to the metal
laughter of my watch
holding it up to my
ear. I look through
the window spying
dead blackandwhite
people. I wonder what
secrets their shadows
hold on the otherside
of time and that

Dark trees argue
against a colored
sky as bats swoop
down and down in
the gold pink
sky cloud mountains
I could climb, and
Buck punctuates his
talk of-
a place of troops,
gifts to Jehovah,
anointed rivers,
and a man
of the dart-
with his own

I take the ring of
my finger and
send the bottle’s
crown tumbling
down in grace down
with the remnants
of the burnt ones-
burnt faces whom
God will strengthen-
yeah that’s what
he says. And I
make notes in my
my mind of the
whispers of trees
A crow flies on
the horizon as
John the neighbor’s
dog barks- maybe
later he’ll come over
and drink the last
of the good beer.

Though if John comes
he’ll talk about working
on old engines, and his
time out at sea. I’ve
got something else on
my mind. I wish you
weren’t watching the
crows groom themselves
behind your eyes

Buck is talking about
Mattathias Hasmoneas slaying
a fellow jew attempting
a pagan sacrifice at the
altar in Modein when I
see John strolling
over with stories of
bannana boat suicides behind
his eyes.

Buck is talking
about the birds of heaven as
they shake hands. And I
say farewell to this fine
hot evening, but I am on
the verge of a bright insight
spinning my last coins and
swallowing the last of my

*Written for Poetics over at dVerse Poets Pub.


12 Responses to “Quite a Bit of Confusion Concerning the Night Without You”

  1. brian miller July 22, 2012 at 12:00 am #

    nice…some really cool story telling…love the little things..the watch laughing mechanically…sucking the glass teat…making notes on the whisper of trees…hope that insight works itself out for you…some nice refs in here as well…a pretty fun group between you the preacher and the car dude…

  2. Gay July 22, 2012 at 12:16 am #

    Interesting piece – the little touches as Brian say pulled me in. Felt as though I were only the watcher and so much was going by. Liked that the dog might finish the beer and it had a real “down home” feel.

    • mattspotentialpoetry July 23, 2012 at 8:14 pm #

      Gay, thanks for the kind words- and I am glad the little touches added that “down home” feel I was going for given I wanted to capture that Saturday night beer drinking porch mood. Peace.

  3. Claudia July 22, 2012 at 3:41 am #

    this is uber cool…loved the story itself but much more what’s going on between the lines..the switching in and out of moods and snippets of life and emotions..you earth it well with the beer and rolling cigarettes but then you bring in so much of their personalities as well…very, very cool write matt

    • mattspotentialpoetry July 23, 2012 at 8:13 pm #

      Claudia, thanks for the kind words- I am uber glad you enjoyed this piece. Peace.

  4. John (@bookdreamer) July 22, 2012 at 4:11 am #

    Sense of loss here perhaps of faith or innocence – bleak pictorial descriptions

  5. lucychili July 22, 2012 at 6:02 am #

    i like your arguing trees
    a conversation over the human heads =)

    • mattspotentialpoetry July 23, 2012 at 8:12 pm #

      Lucy, thanks for stopping by again- and it is my belief nature is always having conversations around us! Peace.

  6. Emma July 23, 2012 at 8:42 am #

    I love this- the feeling that the narrator is more of a spectator then an participant in the action, providing such great details for the reader. An interesting bunch here, quite varied in ideas and interests, but that is what makes for the best conversations, I find. Good stuff.

    • mattspotentialpoetry July 23, 2012 at 8:21 pm #

      Emma, thanks for the kind words, and the narrator here is myself- it seems at certain times I am more of a spectator than a participant which is not necessarily a bad thing as long as I have some smokes and good beer. Peace.

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