TOLSTOY

This happened before the revolution:
Walking amid maples and oaks after
signing away his works—his profusion
of fame and money a curse—he’d have her
concealed far from truth rather than reveal
his actions as soft husbands do. But love,
never simple as in songs, felt him kneel
before her while rising to glare above
her prone frame—white-bearded god to a world
needing gods. But not to her. She knew well
and long his unbathed scent, his snores, vast curls
of his spread beard. Still, he tried to dispel
image of her coming ire; applaud her
beauty; recall the first time he saw her.

Roger Armbrust
July 28, 2011

I CAN SEE YOU RUNNING

I can see you running in soft moonlight
hugging street’s edge, your slender legs stretching
like silhouette of forest deer in flight
toward distant rising field, graceful etching
of your face caught in moonglow, your bright eyes
reflecting moon. Striding alone as though
our planet’s first soul, sensing future lives
just like your own, your breath caresses blue
darkness, and suddenly from deep within,
you lift nature’s eternal song—soft prayer
for stars to guide you through all. Gentle wind
joins your solitary hymn. You take care
crossing shallow creek, its glistening mile
mirroring blessed source of your gleaming smile.

Roger Armbrust
July 27, 2011

EXPLODING DESCENT

This falling star glows like us all, briefly.
This soaring star teases us with wishes.
This hurtling star teaches we end meekly
in some dark void. So we flare, suspicious
of ourselves. Angry as fallen angels,
we streak, we scream, we break soul’s barriers,
plotting to tempt and condemn all to hell,
igniting eternal space—carriers
of despair in our exploding descent.
Blind to vast cascading hues around us
swirling in rainbows of flame, bright crescent
our sly foe conspiring to surround us
with hope, we fly and flee it, our fire eyes
revealing our true essence: We despise.

Roger Armbrust
July 20, 2011

VINDOLANDA

For Catharine Edwards

I have dug gently through this stone and earth
through blistering day into chilling night
sensing something of lasting, sacred worth
awaits us. I honor with candlelight
this vigil—labor south of Hadrian’s
Wall—while others sleep the sleep of ancient
legions. Though awake I dream of Roman
nights with you, your soft eyes now a distant
art. I listen for your wise, gentle words…
my small spade stalls. I lift from stubborn loam
a leaf-tablet’s fragment. My tired eyes blurred,
I steady it near soft candleflame. Rome
sings. I wipe clean a broken phrase (Latin
sent surely from you to me): Amor vin…

Roger Armbrust
July 18, 2011

WHAT THE AIR BRINGS

We all long, I suppose, for our ashes
secured in a satellite forever
to glow like a star. I kiss your lashes,
your closed eyes quivering, cheeks with fever
matching my face, our great moon roaming space—
glowing astronaut clothed in silhouette.
Our winding planet carries it, like grace,
over us, a pace we’ll never forget
as long as we breathe. You’ve no idea,
I see in your eyes, of life’s great power
flowing from you. I hand a spirea
to meld with your delicate fingers. Our
longing lingers. You gaze off, hold something
hidden, like Renoir’s lady on the swing.

Roger Armbrust
July 11, 2011

BIOPSY

I told you how I was praying for you.
You said you’d message me after you heard.
I could see in your strong eyes you meant to.
Several days have passed by without a word.
That’s okay as long as you’re okay. I’m
simply grateful to see you, to spend time
talking, though nearly brief as a ballad,
to study your smile, your glance away, climb
with you toward hope. Like a pilot who’s glad
we’re all alive, I look around the room,
count the brave souls one by one. Was it bad,
the needle or knife? I just know I fell
to my knees, appealing for benign cells.

Roger Armbrust
July 8, 2011

SUMMER SHOWER

ON STAGE: A young woman and a young man walk separately on a street.
They don’t know or acknowledge each other, caught in their own thoughts.
A sudden shower. They dash for cover under a canopy by a patio.
They run into each other, gaze and are smitten. She’s coyly shy. He’s not.
They begin their singing conversation. Music.

She
Summer shower

He
Meet a lady
Got an hour?

She
Well, maybe

He
We could sit out on the patio

She
Need umbrella

He
Got a cover

She
Clever fella

He
Need a lover?

She
Let’s…just sit out on the patio

Both
and watch the
summer shower
for an hour
feel the power
of the shower
as it lets
the summer flowers grow

She
I’ve a query

He
I’ve an answer

She
If she’s teary?

He
Best romance her
lest the deary
turn away and go
Shall we marry?

She
I don’t know you
Don’t be scary

He
I can show you
sunny days
to set your face aglow

She
Live together

He
Come let’s hurry

She
Stormy weather!

He
Don’t you worry
We’ll spend our lives
out on the patio

Both
and watch the
summer shower
for an hour
feel the power
of the shower
as it lets
the summer flowers grow

They hug, kiss, and run off stage together.



Roger Armbrust
July 2, 2011