Category Archives: Brendon Behlke

Me

I am
     soapstone
     unbroken
     form beneath form

I am not
     marble
     hard work and precision
     thousands of patient chisels

To be sculpted
     is an easy thing
           with only a little love
               and subtle effort

     but to be broken is much easier
          achieved with the slightest carelessness
               and an unyielding intent

Dunning Kruger Effect

An old fisherman casts his line
youthful testaments are biting this day
lost sentiments that keep the years at bay
and soften the pain in his spine,
“soon enough you will all be mine,”
to our detriment this I heard him say
a raspy voice like sediment at play
in the throat where it was conveyed.

He could not see – the hook was lost,
one of weathers mischievous tricks
scattered to the wind like an albatross
the lure now trapped behind a brick
far from the place it had been tossed
this cold weekend when the fog was so thick.

I approached the man from behind
having heard his empty threat to the sea
the absurd claim of dominion irked me,
“Bad luck, your hook is in a bind,”
I said with effort to be kind
though something else was stirred by my decree
as if harsh words instead fought themselves free
attacking the first they could find.

“Fish will bite brick as well as worm
if I’ve learned one thing in my life,”
as if I needed the lesson to learn.
“That must be the source of my strife
I’m sure all these fish I’ve caught can confirm,”
I conceded and returned to my wife.

1999

On the knifes edge of gray
               sirens call out through the fog
the sound is everywhere
               yet always running away.

A dog barks
an angry snap to it – hunger
               the pads of its feet slap
heavy rain against the concrete
               if not for the nails scratching with every lift.

The siren is blaring
               it drowns out the dog
                              save for the scratching Thick fog like white darkness
I know not where to run
               Only that I must
                              to life – to death
my footfalls drown in the sound of that distant siren.

Trance

Thin words speak lengthy prose in the morning
each thread beset on both sides with lace
woven over of the threshold of this space
between one worlds end and another’s forming
contemplative clouds swollen and storming
one last gasp before they leave this place
with no more than a glimpse of what they face
just a glimpse is enough of a warning

On the other side the land is broken;
split asunder by imaginary lines
and named with words that are more than spoken
rather a label by which people are defined
beware the sleeper who has awoken
the world is a dream corrupt and unrefined.

Ursa Major

Its thick fur haloed by beads of water
the monster stands patient in the river
a nearby lake’s errant playful daughter
filled with light and fish to make it quiver.
The beast stares through the shimmering surface
at silver spears darting this way and that
their panicked movements desperate and nervous
in pursuit of another habitat.

She brings her paw down like catastrophe
the rushing water erupts in violence
and the fish begs the beast for amnesty
but the giant gives only its silence.
The hunger is real and evening is nigh
there are cubs to be fed hiding close by.

Remorse

               Opportunity
often speaks in riddles
               an anxious precipice
                              tumbled stones
                                             climbing wind

a sunlit valley could be a city
               a city could be leveled
                              the years gathering together
                                             to rebuild the valley that was
               opportunity

is the vision beyond sight
               a world of dreams
                              expressed in folds
                                             so close to finding
               opportunity

will find broken things and fix them
               or break the things that are better broken
                              not resigned to decide
                                             that responsibility rests on you
               opportunity

passes quietly like a loved one
               not seen in years
                              love kept safe in the closet
                                             in a box unopened
               until they are gone

Entrenched

The lakebed – a mystery beneath me
a raised fist of surface tension
broken by my presence
ready to snap

The bold                             enfold
Take hold                           withhold

Those treasures that a younger self might seek
buried beneath what could have been
in the hands of sunk ships
we passed at night

Be slow                              cargo
forgo                                   below

Destination
tribulation
the boon of the lonely
once found grants us only
abdication