Friday, September 5, 2014

Thread the Polar Breeze

A frosted sun rides the western skies
Ice buckles in troubled seas
Death stalks the streets of Arviat
Scent threads the polar breeze

Furtive foxes skitter fences
Ground fouled human host  
From Churchill up to Keewatin
The Laurentide glacial ghost

*Tuunbaq Nibipchabaa  
Igitchivik anaq
Nanuq qiaruq  nibiruq miqjiqtuq

All Hallow’s Eve the children play
Little lights tread snowpacked streets
Tuurngak whispers to the white king
Their flesh is soft the marrow sweet

Nanuk you abdicate your throne
Dance before a greater beast
Trade the cadence on the pack ice
Ones offal another ones feast

Black nose to ice you scavenge
Silent white against the pall
Nanuk now slave to a lesser god
Scattered ash we all will fall

TL Boehm
09/04/14

*Satan, he feeds him garbage pail feces. Nanuk cries, eats child 

The Watermark

So this is the watermark
The stranding after the deluge
Tidal storms recede
And I am wreckage on your shore
Gulls hover
Strident cries they scrabble
For cast off sparkling trinkets
Dead flesh
Winging requiem for a life unlived
Slip the yellow tape boundary
Drape daisy chains and platitudes
Across my fractured hull

Would you find wild beauty
In weathered wood
Barnacle scars
And the echo of measured surf
Set this longship by the sunstone
Radiant light when skies are heavy
Sullen with winter chill
Would you cleave to the beat
Aegir’s heavy hand on your prow
The moon pull of open water
The tease of salt spray
On full lips whisper my name
One more time
Quiet
Voice across the deep
And I will breathe

Will you simply wreath
My memory
“ see the line of my people back to the beginning 
Lo, They do call to me”
Cast the fire and plot the stone ship
Pebbles skipped cross brackish water
My legacy sinks
Little rippled terminus
Wont shred butterfly wings
Or froth the wild tides
To the maelstrom
So this is the watermark
Strand my heart
With one spilled tear
TL Boehm
09/03/2014

Caught Looking Away

His matriarch set off in the brilliant burn
Pre-monsoon summer skies as she flies
Home to Big Blue and strawberry fields, rolling sand dunes
Studded with peaches and cream stalks full corn ears
Past the gunmetal  hulls - Motor City madness
Send that cheap crap back to China
Import ratchet dreams that obsolesce faster than a preteen’s
Boy band crush
We left our polite goodbyes on padded benches in the Sunport
Trekked the cement labyrinthine path back to the car
Sprawled myself out in the backseat
Marinating in my bipolar haze of relief and regret
Two weeks of my soft under parts presented  
Respect for the Alpha who never hacked up a rabbit
At the mere sound of my keening cries
Sate the pack tomorrow I’m off the forest floor
In all my ears back, feral, foaming at the fangs glory
Salient thought abandoned on the crest of a stressed induced migraine
And the whelps yipping for pricey coffee with caramel drizzles

She broke my bleary eyed unfocused reverie
Wrangling two carts corralled by bits of ragged twine in the parking lot
As she ferreted through her peculiar tinsel adorned collection
Scraggly plastic wreaths, sad ghosts of Christmas past
And her grizzled locks wound round a red velveteen door decoration
Muted hues against her transient mantle
I caught myself looking away…
A triad of flies buzzed her presence
The dull thrum of something important forgotten
She shuffled to a center table
Arranging dusky floral skirts and kohl layered clothing
With hands caked with cracked black grit
Fingers studded with grimey chunk costume jewelry
Dug at the lid on a generic bulk bowl of noodle soup
While baristas and capri clad patrons skirted her table
As though they were restless waves
Fleeing before the power of God across the Red sea
And me sucking spun fat from the top of an overpriced iced concoction
Without pittance in my pocket
Caught myself staring…
Waiting….
For someone else to do the Christian thing

Is that how a Freak rolls?
Tongue lolling for the opportunity
When crazy plants itself
In the high backed chair in front of you
And pops open a styro container of “stroke in a cup”
Do you flash that cash wrapped round a tract
Put a hand on her weary back and pray
Do you simply look away
Caught up in awkward indecision
Uncomfortable in your urban bubble
This is latte day at Starbee’s for God’s sake
And she never put a hand out for help
Or spoke a single word
As if a bag of Oprah’s cut leaf tea would
Change her world.
Or yours.
Pride goeth before Christmas wreaths, and shopping carts
And pot metal costume jewels

Under the cool blur of my ceiling fan I glance skyward for answers
Offer a smattering of plaintive prayers
For matriarchs
And mavens with dull velveteen bows in their hair
For my children
For release from the pain at the back of my brain
And the constricting grip of entitlement torqueing my brittle heart
God breathes in moments missed
When we simply look away…
TL Boehm 
08/21/2014 

Not My Reality


Is it divine dissatisfaction
Or just a chemical reaction
To a system overload
Run the meter to the red
Am I all up in my head
Do I shut it down or implode

Can’t settle for status quo
There’s so much more I want to know
This is not my reality
You can hang by your circumstance
Or cut that rope and take a chance
Could you handle being free

Cyclical day and night
Spinning at the speed of light
Lost in the blur of our lives
This black hole gravity
Has done its work on me
It’s a pull I can’t survive

So rescue me from oblivion
My heart is open to let you in
Change my linear destiny
No more victim of circumstance
Give me grace to take the chance
We were meant to be free
022214
TL Boehm