Eyes: Young and Blue

Not a fan of my blue eyes. I adore brown. Who wants to swap?
- Lara Schutz, 22 February 2011


Photograph by Lara Schutz - copyright 2008


Eyes: young and blue. One matched pair, slightly used;
Called striking, on occasion. Asking trade.
No known impairments, still sparkle like new.
Seeking an extra-genetic upgrade;
Recessive genes – too slow in receding –
Have denied me the brown shade I adore.
Thus, I beg an exchange satisfying
Purely aesthetic desire, nothing more;
My mind will retain the burdens perceived
Within a scant two dozen years of sight;
Memories – good and bad only conceived –
Remain, to fade slowly in life’s twilight.
Alas, I know this yearning is but vain
Hope, tinged with an envy I can't constrain.

Once Upon a Time...

For "Her."

Let’s sit and write a sonnet together,
Just you and I. I’ll pour some drinks and play
Songs that still remind me, while you whisper
Words which linger in my ears. I’ll obey
Your charge wistfully, quickening the quill
To flagellate my soul in equal parts
Healing and torture, as grief beyond will
Suffocates the love that once filled my heart;
Anon we’ll return to the past; a time
I knew, even then, was but a broken
Fairy tale, and at the bell’s midnight chime
I am left a knight without his maiden.
I'll fill this page with things I long to say,
For your magic oft’ fades ere light of day.

Poets are Fools and the Jesters of Love

Poets are fools and the jesters of Love.
Deceived by Cupid, they weave words into
Illusions stretching to the stars above,
For his intent, thought pure, leads men askew;
Love's gilt, seeming gold, has been stripped away
By sonneteers' tales of disguis'd lust,
And hearts – once immortal – now broken, lay
Hollow as promises crumble to dust;
Lyrics penned at passion’s fiery birth
Melt away, revealing concupiscent
Lies; and all our vows of Heaven and Earth
Burn to ash in flames fueled by discontent.
Oh, be thou prepared to defend thy heart
When poets swear devotion in their art.

I Fear Sleep for the Dreams That Often Come

A villanelle for Arthur H. Monigold.


I fear sleep for the dreams that often come
In the darkest hours after midnight,
When my mind is defenseless, my heart numb.

Engulfed in blackness, I sense the phantom
Approach, but I cannot flee, cannot fight;
I fear sleep for the dreams that often come.

Powerless, I am once more his victim.
Past trespass will allow no rest tonight,
When my mind is defenseless, my heart numb.

My innocence again becomes flotsam,
Broken by incestuous appetite;
I fear sleep for the dreams that often come.

The shame of my own guilt becomes tiresome
To bear, though memory will still indict
When my mind is defenseless, my heart numb.

To unrestrained emotions I succumb,
While praying these nightmares fade in day's light.
I fear sleep for the dreams that often come
When my mind is defenseless, my heart numb.

Of Ice Cream, Laughter, and "Shakespeare in Love"

A fantasy in sonnet form.

For Kristen Brownell.

Fingers trace over secret paths explored –
Each curve and cleft now mapped in memory.
Kisses and whispers linger on lips, as your
Scent drifts on an air of avidity;
With the gravity of a dying sun
We pull together, two bodies aflame;
Our flesh – now fire and fuel – joins as one,
Surrendering to this lust without shame;
Fresh hunger drives us. We consume the world,
Yet desire more as the appetite seems
To increase; even while pleasures unfurl –
Pushing our passion to the verge of dream.
This madness grows with every ragged breath,
‘Til we are enskied by our little deaths.

Love Does Not Dwell Solely in the Mind

For Amy Lynn Watkins

To make it burn you have to throw yourself in. – Galway Kinnell

‘Faith, love does not dwell solely in the mind,
And will not be controlled by intellect.
It infects the soul, and makes us blindly
Expose that which we oft’ strive to protect;
‘Tis lunacy to pretend we can love
Both truly and carefully – attempting
To keep one foot safe outside the flames of
Passion – for our own hearts are unyielding;
No breast can be proofed ‘gainst Cupid’s arrow –
The magic of love allows no defense.
We must fall completely, or grow hollow;
Razed in the battle ‘twixt madness and sense.
Real love can not flourish by increment,
We must submit and burn in sweet torment.

The Mad Sonneteer Featured in a YouTube Video

Yours truly has been included in a YouTube video promoting an anthology that published three of my pieces (including two sonnets).

The video includes the best picture ever taken of me, and two lines from my sonnet, "The Ways That My Body Remembers Yours."

Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qzfj3fGJ5G4
(I come in around the 3:43 mark.)

Enjoy.

Two Sonnets in Eclectic Flash - September 2010

Two of my sonnets -- "A Simple Word Too Easily Said" and "Poets Never Really Die by Suicide" -- appeared in the September 2010 issue of Eclectic Flash, an online and print literary journal (eclecticflash.com/home.html).

Here is a link to the electronic version of the issue: http://issuu.com/eclecticflash/docs/vol_1_sep_2010?mode=embed&layout=http%3A%2F%2Fskin.issuu.com%2Fv%2Flight%2Flayout.xml&showFlipBtn=true

My works are on pages 13 and 40.

Enjoy.

The Mindfield and the Green Light

For "Her."

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. – F. Scott Fitzgerald

You’ll probably never understand why
I didn’t answer the phone when you called.
To tell the truth, I don’t quite know if I
Can convince myself, or explain it all;
Just hearing your voice would shatter my will,
Breach the brittle walls I’ve built, and remind
Me that time brings no solace; I must still
Tiptoe through the mindfield you left behind.
I believed in the green light, oft’ seeking
A future in the past; though I’ve proven
Unable to seize either, as creeping
Doubt numbed my soul and left my heart barren.
I can not trust, nor let present hopes stir,
Because I’m still in love with who you were.

There's Nothing More to See Here

The chalk outline, white against the concrete,
Marks the scene of the crime, as a crowd
Gathers, like greedy vultures, in the street.
“Did someone jump?” a voice calls out loud;
“Heart attack?” “Yes,” a cop answers, as he
Unspools police tape to control the mob.
“Well…no,” he thinks to himself. “Not really.”
“People, move back now, let me do my job!”
As a cold drizzle falls, he turns to see
Initials scrawled inside the dusty heart
Blur slowly, then melt away in a sea
Of tears, as two lovers, now torn, depart.
“Folks,” the cop says, as a dream disappears,
“Move along; there’s nothing more to see here!”