the poetry that matters

Dillon Wakcerman

Dillon Wackerman is from California.


say it again, together


it cannot end

wrapped up and tied

led on then dragged

in quick lines straight

over thorns and thickets


spilling a trail – the smell

is the memory formed, and

on a run and run we are


unlocked: the grind of pace

movement past pooling, a

giving of dry winds to face

the good and true of next

and next then next is upon


extracted slag left pooled

for dogs and men to lap

feeding on “freedom and

things” the labor granted


effort and emotion fools,

tints the pools false myriads,

turns thisness a thing wet -

and the mast in the distance








and the dawn may come,


you may see light again

the counting fresh again


but yield, no,

no thoughts of wanting, of

waiting or a mask freshly,



trembling heart now stop,

now retreat now shrink, a

mechanism become, a march,

a firm tick-yes tick-no,

a movement directionless and

sure, yes/no – is the need, is

the response


then light what light, what

beauty rains on metallic sheen,

what colors erupt when all

is grey, when

yes is no, and






along the way, acknowledged


no whens – ifs – thens

now it is, the

            now dead(ening, a

            grammarian’s squabble,

            and truly that, how

            trite the manner

            with which): and

it all passes, the fleshless bride

over threshold and searching

roomless rooms to be and feel


drop the axes and shovels,

it is an act of laughter and joy,

more human than thought, as

the quickening of reflexes


on motion thrown and received,

on the ticking down and down,

on the slow creep towards end


my dear! the sights we can see!

such belief is no longer steep

the mountain we’ve peaked







c’est ma taille



not the strict

                        not the


it is in the house  -  a table


     take her hand    , there



go on with it

   bounce .. move

   up and

   up                      faster




/ leave this place


the exchange doesn’t have your rate







the sun will stop

the air will stop


the green will stop

the blue will stop


the sound will stop

the shine will stop


the move will stop

the stop will stop





 strata you re un done



face and sun drifting

in time


            climb descend

            levels and


sound for them

to dig and play


                            and dispose







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                                                                                                                January 29, 2013