Kentucky February Snowfall

deep blue rhythm of arctic winter grasps
in chill fingers southern haven belies
comforts, jails them in frosted winter world
when to end? when to end? for warmth they pray
though to whom none can certain say, they pray
and curse and burn more fuel, wood, gas, coal
smoke and steam escaping impotent to heat
the world and its arctic sky snowing slow.

just weeks from vernal equinox they cry
against cold nights and bitter frost as robins
chatter of seeds and plenty and coming
pleasance under skies of promise — flowers
soon to triumph over latency and frost
filling the vernal world with truth and beauty.

david m pitchford
26 feb 2014

Not For Temptation

craig got out of rehab about a month ago
was doing so well until a coworker
brought up a horse named wildcatter — the name
somehow made it all real again, the tracks
the horses gate-to-wire and wagers won
once in a while just enough one more gods
grant me luck today . . . and how can normies
live without those highs? without the lows, live?
but, no , craig coaches himself, he has a higher
power now and steps against that seduction.
an hour later and craig is sweating bullets
though still at work, the quitting bell is set
to ring him home and no overtime in sight
somehow, some way, he’ll manage the beast this time.

David M Pitchford
19 Feb 2014

At the Finish

such a simple goal it seemed: write a thousand
poems. twenty-nine months it took to write
them, and that is the surprise. so much time,
so much life come and gone rivers flooded
droughts come and gone ice storms and ice fog nights
summer with tornadoes and storms of past
resurrected to haunt the now such love
gained and lost lovers won and tossed aside
not for lack of love, never that, but for
incompatibilities love not over-
comes . . . the dog euthanized . . . landslide crumbled
to dust returned the father leagues of life
traversed and each mile unmarked is a poem
failed or captured matters nothing in the end. . . .

David M Pitchford
11 Feb 2014

For the Love

in the basement of a colorado bungalow
in drywall plaster sculpted
with a cheapass trowel from home depot
my honorific oblige to van Gough
*starry night* in relief
not simply to his opus
but to the life the man the mania
art for art and beauties’ sake
because life is light flung against
dark nothing and the light will out
it finds a way through leonard cohen cracks
through pinholes and brush strokes
through seams dissected by poets
sculptors architects composers
fueled ever by love
love of the art, of the self, of light and life
love of a woman all women
love of a man all men
love of humanity and being
human . . . .

David M Pitchford
11 Feb 2014

Saved by Moonlight

days like these my tongue sticks to my cheek and teeth
hiding from every banal word, every clichéd
thought, every remonstrance against a stingy
universe overheated with summer
and stifled with ubiquitous stupid
doing, done, potential and realized   .  .  .
but then some unuttered thought springs forward
begging audience and expression,   not
a great thought, deep or philosophical,
but a thought as real as moonlight on water   —
something true if simple in its beauty,
and my heart surges, eyes alight with stars,
hand reaches for stylus as my voice frees
itself from clenched silence to say and sing.

Sex: a Fibonacci Sonnet

sex
burning
savage fire
she lights these spring nights
alive with passion like fission
atomic spark of hormonal desire igniting

o this dance of couple and thrust
this dance we can’t,   we shan’t,   we must

chemical propellant red electric exciting
into life’s passionate fusion
we light these cool nights’
savage fires
burning
sex

As Warm Front Meets Cold Front

thunder rolls distant as conversation
turns from lighter subjects to future cares
and what about us and what is this thing
and where are we going?     is this love,   love,
or just a minute’s romance overtime
a spring fling perhaps merely seasonal?
what is it you want to want or want me
to want and what do I want and what will
keep us together if we decide to be
together longterm?          but these kisses too
sweet to carry on heavy,   lighten lips
and hearts and words and the thunder ceases
as rain begins to fall and we laughing
frolic and dance between april raindrops.