Bitch white trace Tearing through the screams Then silence Deathly silence And the drip, drip Drip 12/1/00 - Kenny A. Chaffin
Poets are fast creatures and tricky. They sling metaphors and similes around like an autumn gale scatters leaves. They stomp around on fat feet the size of redwood trees, daring anyone to get in their way. In their cars with license plates like 'The Bard' or 'Poe,' they are maniacs - unless of course, they are being pensive, then they're grannies in the fast lane. And worst, through it all, they constantly write it all down as if posterity -- or anyone for that matter -- actually cared. Kenny A. Chaffin - 3/14/02
What is it about footed tubs? Why have feet anyway? As if they were something special -- tub mother womb to us all, immersed in and borne of water. I always wonder about the details. Should their toenails be painted red? Should they wear socks when the weather turns cold or is the warm body of water enough to soothe them? What, might I ask, is their purpose? Are the feet for walking away, for running? Or is it only the running water they catch, for gently rocking their occupants among candles with blackberry scent. 3/17/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
I missed the revolution Because of the fuckin' ex Now I'm going to have some fun Get myself some sex 10/4/00 - Kenny A. Chaffin
It's like you grow an extra finger and why, you ask? Why me? You brood about it for days at a time, but still can't fathom why. You try to play guitar and of course the finger gets in your way. You think of removing it surgically but fear it will just grow back. So you throw the guitar books across the room And find a new way to play. Kenny A. Chaffin - 6/13/01
We grew from the land like willows from water On the banks of the Red River flow Swimming the summers away in the lake Hiding from winter's cold This is the land where the mistletoe grows No cellophane mass-market bags You pick it fresh, white berries and all Right there from the trees on the land When I was ten they put up a tower TV for both sides of the lake I remember watching with rapt-faced awe The Day the Earth Stood Still We stored our potatoes and onions beneath In the cool dark crawlspace below The wood-framed house my grandfather built Atop the hill with a view We weren't that close, but I always remember Stick candy when he came to see The land that he'd nurtured and how it Still fared in the care of his youngest son Many a day I spent whiling away In the tall green grass out front Watching the dreams float by in the sky Planning the days to come And though it never quite felt like home I loved it just the same For a boy can never forget his roots No more than the willow tree 12/18/00 - Kenny A. Chaffin
In childhood days I was a scientist living my dreams to come. I asked myself questions - how, what and why? Thought I knew what the future would hold. It was white with red fins shaped like a rocket; tuned with a sliding nose cone. No batteries needed and none included just wires and crystal earphone I clipped the lead to the chrome finger-stop on the black Bell rotary phone Science was magic and I was amazed as invisible waves became sound. I listened in awe as local station KMAD came through loud and clear. And at night sometimes, with everything still Chicago whispered in my ear. 1/09/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
An endless stream of Blackbirds flows Like a river In the sky I lie on my back Lost in my thoughts As the sun Begins its descent I watch them born On the western horizon And disappear Into the east A constant flow of Life on the wing Moving for Reasons unknown I watch for a break In the constant flutter But it never Seems to come A few black dots Move away a bit But are quickly Drawn back in I wonder where They're going And why they Cannot stop 1/21/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
Sometimes it would take days to get the job done and you had to be a good shot; to hit the remaining one yellow jacket as it scrabbled on its grey paper nest. Even then you'd need to keep shooting 'til the white-topped egg chamber nest loosened from the farmhouse eave and fell tattered to the ground. Daddy had no time to waste on such things he'd fill a tin can to the top with gasoline siphoned from the black Chevy truck using part of a green garden hose. They'd die in an instant, absolute zero, all motion stopped and drip to the ground fetal-like in tiger-striped crisp crescent arcs. It was all so fast, way too fast, for boys in the summertime sun. Our first shot brought the swarm alive. Attack! Attack! Attack! They'd sometimes chase us into the house behind the protective screen door. We'd wait til they calmed, then sneak back up and let them have it again After a bit, an hour or so, they'd not even respond, building their nest, laying their eggs as bb's picked them off one-by-one. But even then an angry rogue might say enough is enough and mount a solo attack. He'd chase us off, but we'd be back cocking our Daisys and letting them have it again 2/16/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
I see it each day on my drive to work weathered and worn -- gray as ash tilting foolishly into the wind. Its corners worn down at horse-shoulder height -- sunlight and rain through the roof. I stop one day in my morning rush to take a closer look. A door blows open with a screech and I hear my father yell "Don't let the damn cows out what's wrong with you boy?" and it takes me back to that time. To my dreams of the future and what it would bring and how little I knew of life. I think of him now in bed with no legs leaning into his final hour and I wonder if he thinks of those days. I wonder if he dreams. 4/15/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
When everyone else had gone away I stood and watched the men -- grave-diggers, the coverer-uppers. They hung back giving space in the tree shrouded graveyard because they'd seen it before. My need to be there -- alone, the last, the oldest son's goodbye. I bent and scooped the dry clodded earth Rolling it 'round in my hand. I dropped it carefully clump by clump as the men stood silently by. I heard each thump, each sound, each tap on the silver-gray lidded box echo inside, a hollow sound, a knocking at the door. 1/19/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
Fog in Denver is like its air somewhat rare and unseen. When it snuggles down upon the city it's like walking through a dream. 2/16/01 - Kenny A. Chaffin
Filled with spirit Dancing in time Drums pounding rhythm of souls Aztec Dancers Day of the Dead Rhythm and motion delight Feathered headdresses Tall as a man Reaching to gods above Streaming the prayers The dance, the spirit From all the dancers below Seven year old Goddess of dance Strikes each step with a smile Moving with memory Of the dance Far beyond her years Turning and stepping Precise to the drum Boom ba-ba boom ba-ba boom Filled with spirit Of ages past And someday queen of the dance 10/28/00 - Kenny A. Chaffin
Logic and rhetoric dance to the beat holding emotion at bay. Emotion then catches logic's eye, cuts in, and dances in time. Rhetoric envies the figure they make as they twirl upon the floor. Emotion and logic are closer it seems Than rhetoric ever dreamed. Kenny A. Chaffin - 6/13/01
Her name is Rosemary but she seems a Beverly -- so much so I call her by name. Perhaps in another Dimension I'm Fred and I slip too easily between. Kenny A. Chaffin 2/20/02
Stones of lies emerge from your mouth Granite mounds fill your empty soul. They block all access, filling space -- stopping Diogenes cold. Me, I'll take comfort in time for time will always prevail -- standing strong against granite walls, grinding mountains to the sea. Kenny A. Chaffin - 5/16/01
To rip her heart out And eat it raw Would not be enough The death of a thousand cuts For her Would not be enough To skin her alive fillet her That would not be enough To drown her slowly Drip drip drip Would not be enough Dying by thirst Stretched in the sun Would not be enough Forced to live forever Knowing what she'd done That, perhaps that, might just be enough.
She rises from dusk Into cold night air. Nipples erect -- eyes sweeping the land Her mask of a face exudes terror and strength. She scans for something to eat. Her eyes fall on you, your heart skips a beat. She lunges. You scream jerk away Over the edge the nightmare begins, but this is reality She shifts again eyes flash red -- fangs, a growl, a hiss The smell of terror pervades the air. Teeth sink into your flesh. You scream but nothing Escapes your lips. For you, there is no escape. 10/13/00 - Kenny A. Chaffin
I smile when I think of the worms below consuming the flesh from her bones She shouldn't have done it crossed me that way for that she had to pay I tricked her and trapped her and bound her away to a secret hidden place The first I did was cut out her tongue for that was the worst she did And then I carved a steak from her thigh grilled under watchful eye Being compassionate in the end her wrists I gently cut I sang as the blood flowed from her veins silently to the ground And when she was gone I felt a warmth and happiness fill my heart I buried her deep in hidden woods where gentle snowflakes fall And today I think of her now and again and smile at the thought of the worms Kenny A. Chaffin 10/14/00
In my dreams I run with the moon for there at least I'm free I sail across the southern skies chasing the beat of my heart The dreams come clear in the crisp clean night In the light they fade away For in the day the warden watches each and every move I live the life he wants me to the perfect Stepford wife I lock the dreams inside of me for now I have no choice Afraid to see them in the light 'til at dusk once more they call For in my dreams I run with the moon and there at least I'm free 10/25/00 - KAC
In the mail or in the night Former lovers come calling From Christmas cards Written in pink A summary of the previous year Words swollen with meaning Like rose-nippled breasts Straining to be free In smoky dreams In deep dark nights Their voices sometimes call Fear and hunger and longing for love For pleasures of the flesh The reindeer card With it's sexual tone May all your slot A's fit B's And the newfound love With the simple phrase You are important to me
To be in public And see what I've seen Beneath your faded gown The pleasure locked Between your thighs The ecstasy of your kiss Lust and longing Consume my being Until next again I have you 10/14/00 - KAC
Copyright © 2002 Kenny A. Chaffin