dissevered

Posted by Robert Anderson On Friday, January 28, 2011 1 comments

it pains me
through depth i cannot fathom
to know you linger quietly,
so alone.

while absorbed by your chaos--
the tenderness of a misguided fool,
i well up.

why have we fallen, 
broken... together yet 
so far apart.

your very heart 
entwined
with thought which
bleeds an immeasurable 
torment begs of the rain
for love
and i
can only watch you as you mourn.

undyingly i have failed you
for how i couldn't
save you from
all we've lost. 

is this just or
something we anchor from our longing? 

linger

Posted by Robert Anderson On Monday, January 24, 2011 1 comments

my thoughts linger
ever often
during hours in which
the world seems
to doze beneath the moonlit skies
 
i'm alone, while waiting for...
something. anything.
 
and i cry to the stars for your
amorous touch.
 
where are you and
do you think of me too?
 
days when we were
so fond of beautiful sunsets
haunt me.
my eyes veiled.
 
oh, you seem so near, yet
so far, so far, so far.
 
how has it come to this?
 
i need you.

The Wishing Bone

Posted by Robert Anderson On Friday, January 21, 2011 1 comments

of the bone which came to a man
from a lynx that captured a goose
to find it was of great power
but denounced all the things he knew

that had laced a life alone
into whatever it was that came
and for every time he tied
his foolishness deep in shame

my elders told me of these things
the history that they knew
to pave them into forever
across the teachings they've imbued

and how I've not forgotten,
as a young boy I've listened so
to these tales that they had told me
so my own embrace their echo

______________________________________________________________________________


"One spring, near Lake Winnipeg, a single snow goose appeared high in the air. It glided down on a smaller lake and swam to shore. Nearby and quietly, a lynx crouched as the wind shifted on the goose's scent into his nose. For a brief moment, the goose lifted his head, listening. But before it could rise again safely, the lynx had it in his teeth. The lynx feasted down to bones and feathers. Then, just as he began to crack a bone for marrow, a man called out and the lynx was quick into the trees. Only artifacts of the goose remained, but among them, the man found a bone said to protect the heart--a "wishing bone." He examined it slowly. Later, he found that the bone was a tool of metamorphosis, which allowed him to become a "trickster" capable of wishing things into existence, and himself into various situations." -- A Swampy Cree tale as told by Jacob Nibenegenesabe and Samuel Makidemewabe.

utterly dead

Posted by Robert Anderson On Thursday, January 20, 2011 0 comments

while this bares
in a tone of blue-gray it
lingers of nothing more than
silence

it's emotionless and
embraces me within the absence of my muse

a secluded whim of
dispassion slays my artistic
alchemy

oh
i mourn
between each despairing breath
and readily surrender my heart
for the price
of ullage

drowning, drowning...
i curse the heaven's for such an unfathomable
curiosity!

where are the days that have
never dreamed of quarreling with my soul--
when life bequeathed to me a beauty
of such imaginings?

how i cry out
to part with my seducing gift but,
through chicanery, my voice perfectly fails.

i am
utterly
dead.

lucky

Posted by Robert Anderson On Thursday, January 13, 2011 0 comments

i am unsure,
unsure...
of where i am going

you... you're lucky
to have found someone

but sometimes the rivers
my tears have formed

in the abyss
where i have undone

your beautiful smile
oh, your bright lovely face

that once gave me the hope
that it would never fade

but somewhere my luck
had turned into ashes

and one day my luck
will grant a better day

so when you crawl your soul
to lie gently in bed

don't think about me
and all that i did
(all that i did)

'cause i tore the four leafs
off of your lucky clover

and i'm afraid of the truth
so i'll never be sober

again, when i think
without ever
knowing

that sometimes...
(oh, sometimes)
i am unsure
of where
i am
going

secret

Posted by Robert Anderson On Wednesday, January 12, 2011 1 comments

an intimate secret
on my dream kept pillow
lulls me to sleep
as a beautiful whisper;
while oh, the sweetest truth
i hold to the heavens:
your sovereign eye
s can have me forever. 

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