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fred whitehead s blog poems and such search fred whitehead s blog poems and such about me i ve read this somewhere before march 8 2018 leave a comment what first got my attention when looking for the spark that lit the pyre of generational change was something buried in the footnotes a few lines a few names temporary list some they born into expectation eventually breaking free from that control the eyes of the outside world slits of derision stiff of neck folded of arm what could they possibly know these it is only the same action on repeat label d never has this before or travesty of non compliance or futile can you honestly say you can t understand the newly risen speaking in the old tongue as you did when stubborn minds barred the gates to you yourselves c 2018 fred whitehead hens november 17 2017 2 comments i hear them as soon as i turn off the engine they are letting me know they have impatiently awaited my return i open the door to the coop and scatter grain the two hens left set to work talons charting their world with lines cut in freshly strewn straw undaunted by memories of the sister abducted by a fox the night before maybe the best that can be said of memory is that it mellows disillusion blurs equivalency no need to know the reason why visions of togetherness and loss are beaten from the same clay i watch them as i repair the fence glad they at least avoided the hunt and silently wished that should i perish away from here my bones would be gathered and brought to this ridge like yeats disputed return to sligo and interred somewhere out back of the house the spot marked by a fruit bearing tree or a bush full of thorns that being the last judgment regarding my demeanor c 2017 fred whitehead again ariadne october 25 2017 2 comments theseus from the bow saw her reflection in the river i could disassemble myself he said replacing throughout the years every particle of the original convincing myself i ve not become different the whole while a ghost of a voice whispers about distinctions small and vast and still i would only be able measure the distance between us in nights their numbers alone setting me to contemplate vaulting the rail making for any shore that will have me c 2017 fred whitehead finding october 17 2017 leave a comment finding it s not so easy a matter as clattering about in a box taken down only when mystery elbows curiosity into action you have to want to dig deep cutting through roots thick and ancient a lifetime of dirt hauled to the surface to be sifted by others hands bloodied inevitably an ache that will not subside whether you unearth yourself or not most likely you will in the end invent sense for clues that make none alone hoarding youthful trinkets rewriting history for the unsmiling c 2017 fred whitehead on the day she left may 29 2017 3 comments do you think she dreamt of owls as the taste of monoxide played across her tongue feral child what was it you heard while catching spirit when others would not singing the herald wild the language of the earth the only one she cared to understand c 2017 fred whitehead there was no one at the boarding house march 29 2017 2 comments waiting for him when he came in from mapping the terrain he meant to mention that he had been painting himself into mountains with pigment ground from headstones and fingers dipped in rain he stood half in the door with eyes seemingly cleared by isinglass even before he turned them to capture the melon dusk he had just the right phrase to describe the color but there was no one around the fire to make a fuss he waved his manuscript in the air looking for an honest review to hire fifty four chapters breaking down a method he derived for cleansing himself of grief no one was there to deny its depth so he considered it a success put it on a bookshelf and went back out to see what the clouds believed c 2017 fred whitehead an unfinished poem march 7 2017 leave a comment i wondered what had happened the way one listens for the crackle of dawn bursting through clouds like a giggle through a gap toothed smile it doesn t matter how many nights are spent placing polaroids as poultice over wounds of youth you will always lose a little blood c fred whitehead utterances from the dark march 2 2017 leave a comment as we try to breach fortifications you dive behind relentless drapery disallowing any contraband sunlight passed from smugglers hand to smugglers hand bouquets and bottles are left for guard dogs of your endless night to sniff and piss on we hear you pleading for a way to tap into maddeningly elusive mania how could we not the mourn is relentless we ve no summation for this repetition can find no correlation between strangely unhinged episodes and the beautiful results we want to travel with you try to walk with you on the waters of your galilee it just laughs and consumes outside your wall we try to comprehend your mutterings as transcribed we ultimately fail but we listen c 2017 fred whitehead a day in february february 25 2017 2 comments a day in february isn t usually this warm i am below a struggling sun thinking of the instinct of birds and arranging plantings in my head i hear the oratory of my granddaughters as they stage one of their melodramas in the leafless copse at the back of the yard i move some rolled up fencing from this place to that for no other reason than to temporarily placate an itch to be the in the garden and to be in some small way of purpose i follow their song as they weave among the trees envious of their innocence as they spiral outward ignoring for now their lodestar as it beckons their attention from the edge of forever c 2017 fred whitehead some of my books on amazon one is a collaboration with david rothbart february 8 2017 leave a comment older entries categories books haiku multi lingual poems poetry prose songs sound poetry uncategorized verse archives march 2018 november 2017 october 2017 may 2017 march 2017 february 2017 january 2017 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