Tag Archives: Brendon Behlke

Ode to the Pen

To you who are so confident in the sharp angles
               who will not bend by force
                          but will shape the mind,
the scales by which our history is judged
        the catalyst for all intellect divined,
I ask, what shape would be made of us otherwise?

Through you we’ve explored our history

Through you we’ve reached

                                                         Out
                 into the future
                                      and found a place there

Whether

                  Quiet

       Or loud.

Through you we have a voice that
transcends
                     our isolation.

Time

There were a thousand years behind that hand
the cloth, pregnant with water,
hides the universe
gestating forever and always.

Together they press against an ancient brow
weary more from years than heat;
a symbolic gesture.

The way the sun hits the falling water
shatters it across the stonework.
At this altitude it looks like
anthropology screaming;
an echo of countless others
refracted exactly here

[None of this is captured on the magazine cover
only so much can be seen in pictures]

Surprise Visit

You sneaky bastard.

I knew you were there
felt you behind my closed lids                                                 (always)
slinging your weight at the ends of my hair,
but I thought
                  with my eye on you
I’d catch you before you pounced.

Yet here I am,
reduced to fetal leavings
and you drooling over me
through a smile that stretches for hours.

All I want is endless darkness
a silent forever
to think

                    ‘it’s going to be alright’
but believe it.

The War Between Two Balloons

His opponent – Dashed against the rooftops
               the victor floats away
the punctuated fabric of their balloon
strained in its ascent
but the ascent is meaningless now.
His opponent – Dashed against the rooftops
becoming more distant with the passing moments
yet closer to him now than ever before.

Further below
their shared heart looks up from the earth
blocking the sun with her free hand
her face twisted
like a bird caught in the strings
               the victor floating away.

Supine

The walls here are illusory
a stonework reminder of
               (our options)
though stone can be broken
walls overcome

Often the only wall is
               (you)
                    Your will
                              your means
                                        your knowledge.

Here
         it is time that binds us
the immutable agony
running headlong towards us
to keep us from getting out.

Every year conquered
leaves the others more pronounced
those walls
              (these walls)
                           are real.

The Fox at the End of Time

He leaps
trusting his feet
trusting the earth beneath them.
Speed and grace
feed confidence like flames
sends it racing over hills
sharing in its color.

Darting through grass and trees
the pads of its paws feel like heavy rain
a resonance of force
always remains
bouncing through the bones
      a guitar well strung
               finely tuned
strumming a rhythm of motion
a crescendo reached
only now – with the rest of time behind us.

It is beautiful music
silenced by pavement
interrupted by the sounds of cars;

Some screeching to a halt
               others accelerating.