My brother the doctor told me what to
do: sit in a tub of scorching water,
so hot you can barely stand it. But you
know how defiant I am. I slaughter
suggestions, or at least twist them, muddle
a shape so a coat hanger looks like my
patent. I bought a hot water bottle,
stuffed it with scalding tap. Let my butt fry
on it for half an hour while I’m typing
this sonnet’s first draft. Tell myself how pain
seasons life, makes it palatable, sings
of insane courage, like crawling in rain
naked. I’m crafting gross answers to pass
off with this cruel joke: What burns my ass?
Roger Armbrust
January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
I’VE GOT SOMETHING MORE TO SAY
so you might as well hear it, or plug up
your ears I guess. Read my lips or close tight
those wondering eyes. I’m holding this cup,
dull pewter like a gray rain cloud, to light
my memory of that night you bought it
at our college book store, told me I should
keep it forever. I still see your tits
bulging out that white sweater, Hollywood
starlet in my heart. No, I’m not drinking,
not even had a whiff. I’m desert dry,
and that’s my problem. Parched inside, thinking
how we would melt into one, muffled cries
as we came like wild deer on the front lawn,
then lay there softly whispering till dawn.
Roger Armbrust
January 29, 2011
your ears I guess. Read my lips or close tight
those wondering eyes. I’m holding this cup,
dull pewter like a gray rain cloud, to light
my memory of that night you bought it
at our college book store, told me I should
keep it forever. I still see your tits
bulging out that white sweater, Hollywood
starlet in my heart. No, I’m not drinking,
not even had a whiff. I’m desert dry,
and that’s my problem. Parched inside, thinking
how we would melt into one, muffled cries
as we came like wild deer on the front lawn,
then lay there softly whispering till dawn.
Roger Armbrust
January 29, 2011
MANTIS
Your thorax mimicking flattened green leaf,
your head an emerald camouflaged pod,
you sometimes stalk like a cat, bringing grief
to cricket and grasshopper, lurching nods
ripping your jaws into flesh. Compound eyes
which artists envy, altering color
through changing light, composing sly disguise
from milky opal with fake pupil for
sun, chocolate or licorice by night.
Rotating your skull, 300-degree
skill, you keep every far corner in sight.
(No wonder your name means prophet or seer.)
Yet I question if your males foretell fate,
becoming the main course after they mate.
Roger Armbrust
January 28, 2011
your head an emerald camouflaged pod,
you sometimes stalk like a cat, bringing grief
to cricket and grasshopper, lurching nods
ripping your jaws into flesh. Compound eyes
which artists envy, altering color
through changing light, composing sly disguise
from milky opal with fake pupil for
sun, chocolate or licorice by night.
Rotating your skull, 300-degree
skill, you keep every far corner in sight.
(No wonder your name means prophet or seer.)
Yet I question if your males foretell fate,
becoming the main course after they mate.
Roger Armbrust
January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I HAVE KNOWN
blast of winds that have sent me gyring past
myself into vast symbols, eternity
revealing itself through translucence, cast
in linings of cocoons, infinity
reveled via the caterpillar’s thread.
I have known plight borne by protagonists
caught up in plots of ancient books I’ve read,
their covers decayed, crumbling—egoists
tumbling down despair’s blackened cavern, hands
lashing out for slightest branch or crevice
teasing to break the fall. I have known lands
where prophets limped through sand dunes, their service
no more than rhythmic words wheezing through thin
lips, while scorpion stings blistered their skin.
Roger Armbrust
January 25, 2011
myself into vast symbols, eternity
revealing itself through translucence, cast
in linings of cocoons, infinity
reveled via the caterpillar’s thread.
I have known plight borne by protagonists
caught up in plots of ancient books I’ve read,
their covers decayed, crumbling—egoists
tumbling down despair’s blackened cavern, hands
lashing out for slightest branch or crevice
teasing to break the fall. I have known lands
where prophets limped through sand dunes, their service
no more than rhythmic words wheezing through thin
lips, while scorpion stings blistered their skin.
Roger Armbrust
January 25, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I WISH YOU WELLNESS
I wish you wellness of body and soul.
I wish you wellness of the seer’s clear
mind. I wish you wellness of peaceful shoals
guiding the swimmer safely home. I wish
you wellness of the soaring eagle, wings
gliding through calming breeze, set to vanquish
stormy winds by instinct—a divining
faith. I wish you wellness free of all fear.
I wish you wellness of the long-distance
runner, every muscle caressing air
of life. I wish you wellness as you dance
through our universe, urging all who stare
to dance. I wish you wellness of the fawn
gliding through open fields in the pre-dawn.
Roger Armbrust
January 15, 2011
I wish you wellness of the seer’s clear
mind. I wish you wellness of peaceful shoals
guiding the swimmer safely home. I wish
you wellness of the soaring eagle, wings
gliding through calming breeze, set to vanquish
stormy winds by instinct—a divining
faith. I wish you wellness free of all fear.
I wish you wellness of the long-distance
runner, every muscle caressing air
of life. I wish you wellness as you dance
through our universe, urging all who stare
to dance. I wish you wellness of the fawn
gliding through open fields in the pre-dawn.
Roger Armbrust
January 15, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
CANARD
I told her I would love her forever.
She whispered she’d stay for a hundred years.
She laughed with gusto; called my jokes clever.
I promised to never bring her to tears.
She praised my Brobdingnagian organ.
I raised the bedroom roof to show my strength,
then made her giggle with earthy slogans
while she sang ditties of craving my length.
It’s such a pity the earthquake rumbled,
causing our walls to crumble like crackers.
We rode our hot tub down landslides, tumbled
into Pacific waves where I smacked her
with a French kiss. I’d hyperventilate
while she’d chortle, “Man, what a great first date!”
Roger Armbrust
January 5, 2011
She whispered she’d stay for a hundred years.
She laughed with gusto; called my jokes clever.
I promised to never bring her to tears.
She praised my Brobdingnagian organ.
I raised the bedroom roof to show my strength,
then made her giggle with earthy slogans
while she sang ditties of craving my length.
It’s such a pity the earthquake rumbled,
causing our walls to crumble like crackers.
We rode our hot tub down landslides, tumbled
into Pacific waves where I smacked her
with a French kiss. I’d hyperventilate
while she’d chortle, “Man, what a great first date!”
Roger Armbrust
January 5, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
CONCRETE
No, not the Parthenon, its ancient dome
of reinforced cement looming over
Piazza della Minerve in Rome.
Not the Pantheon, where we discover
its oculus welcoming beams from sun
and moon. Nor those simple Roman dwellings,
their congealed graveled walls neatly hidden
by piled bricks. I speak now of compelling
spirit’s experience: Voices, visions
William James cited. Responses to prayer.
Changes of heart rising from decision
to write this to you. Power of your stare
as I view your photo, your blessed message.
I am Antony lost in your visage.
Roger Armbrust
January 3, 2011
of reinforced cement looming over
Piazza della Minerve in Rome.
Not the Pantheon, where we discover
its oculus welcoming beams from sun
and moon. Nor those simple Roman dwellings,
their congealed graveled walls neatly hidden
by piled bricks. I speak now of compelling
spirit’s experience: Voices, visions
William James cited. Responses to prayer.
Changes of heart rising from decision
to write this to you. Power of your stare
as I view your photo, your blessed message.
I am Antony lost in your visage.
Roger Armbrust
January 3, 2011
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