Tag Archives: photography

Sister Stones, poetry and photograph by pd lyons


Sister Stones

Today I brought her stones,
sister stones
white round found together on the beach

Not the waxy white,
not glassy grey,
but almost opal

Round

Alike

Together

brought to her still wet
from my having sucked their salt

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In Death if Dreams Be loved


he had stayed away before

afraid of his own dreams

now 5:30 in the a.m.

she had come to him

so real he cursed god

 

wept into the kitchen

cursing god again

once more when sleep had took him

with out words she came

sat with him on deep scorch-less grass

head to head

dark her eyes kept him breathless

until once more was gone

the body has its own karma –


THE BODY HAS ITS OWN KARMA

paris by pd lyons

The day is nice, excerpt from Sal Manders by pd lyons (adult themes)


in 1974 I started work on a biographical/fiction. ( originally titled salamanders) incorporating bits of journal, drugs sex and drama from the point of view of a 18 – 20 something male living in an old factory town New England as he discovers drinks weed cocaine love sex marriage divorce fatherhood etc. it began by the river it hasn’t ended yet. here’s another excerpt – for what its worth. still ruff n ready I suppose

The day is nice,

today is a light cool mist over everything after weeks of ninety degrees. The coffee is good and strong. I’m sprawled out on the kitchen table with pen and paraphernalia. When I was first married my wife always made sure where ever we lived there was a room for my desk. It was great; a room, a desk, a typewriter and all my books. But as time went on and she and I got farther apart the desk seemed to get lost along the way as we moved and the place got smaller and smaller my room became less and less of a priority no longer, like myself, a necessity. However I did find a substitute for my desk, a most convenient and logical solution – a place to sprawl out and be close to the coffee pot a place generally as far as possible from sleeping children and angry women and even today when I have no typewriter, no home, no wife, I still have a little quiet and solitude here at this long inspiration of kitchen table.

It’s nice and cool but I would like some sunlight, sunshine like yesterday, the girl dancing and laughing and I rubbed her sore muscles putting her to sleep in the ragged summer grass there by the stream you can still drink from. Maureen, the way your hair shines golden, the way you wore that yellow tied at the waist shirt – I want to buy you a gold medallion of the sun, pretty girl I want to lay you out in ninety degrees of heat and fuck you till we melt. Maureen in the sun quiet, cynical, tired, your legs are strong I thought you were nervous but you fell asleep as I worked the tight muscles of your legs yielding up the cheeks of you ass, a long sleek back up around sore shoulders the white ivory neck kissed between the space of blonde laying in the grass my hands unable to stop…

Then there is Maureen in evening laughter,

Restless martial arts forms against the stars

Stoned as shit on some hashish she bought

To see her now, happy, care free, no self put downs,

Golden lady I like to be here…

Maureen your skin is magic,

The night has been beautiful for us

The moonless stars are animals I want to travel among

While your desire is to keep both feet on firm earth

Dancing in the dark I hate to leave you –

All night my fingers shake in their sleep as if I had ten penises each dreaming of your cunt all at once.

 

Ah fish gold fish swimming not


the time light travels

the time sight registers

the time thought conceptualizes  ~

that which we call fish

already moved on

the truth of it unperceived.

 

 

Ah fish gold fish swimming not

watercolor collage paper

he liked the woman who knew about bones 5 photo series by pd lyons


he liked the woman who knew about bones

 

did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant by pd lyons


Today

at the counter

pastrami on rye

coffee black

just off the peripheral

this guy and woman at a table

he was going on & on

you know right away

a bunch of bullshit

rather loudly too

I had no interest in him

or what he was selling

but she had caught my eye

noticed her the minute i came in

by the time i finished my sandwich

she still hadn’t said a word

he of course hadn’t stopped

people just tried to piss him off

daughter 13 years old competing already

lack of parenting by all others

ad nauseam

I asked the waitress for a refill and the check

turned to get a better look at them

maybe she was speaking,  just too soft for me to hear?

but no. she was just sitting there taking it all in.

no longer interested but rather sorry for her

turned to finish my coffee

wondered how long the rain would hold off

did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant…

The Great God Pan Is Dead by pd lyons


 

photographer unknown

 

Within the pages of illusion,

Before the glass of no reflection,

The sensuous form of her adoration,

(White on blonde)

Rises to the occasion of the

Mysterious relation between,

The pale worship of a

Vanishing god and the blue

Whispers of her blood.

As fevered as silk in cedar,

Fanatical as dew dipped spider webs;

She’s come and gone.

Her absence heavy in the spicy

Dust of death, where her foot steps

Spell out the haunting word

Amen

 

1987

Split Seconds, from Bella & Shirley by pd lyons


Split seconds

I saw the horrible red rose bloom upon her chest
heard the splatter from her back
then the rifle crack.
Our eyes meet
she whispers Bella
as she falls manages to grip my arm
pulls me to the ground
just before the next bullet
harmless ricochet.
I scramble hands and knees
Shelter among the rubble.
She had taught me well.
No point in trying to spot the sniper
the point – survive.
Hands , knees, sometimes flat on my belly
safety among the ruins.
Once again I am alone
Once again I have lost
But this time there is a difference –
she  taught me well
likewise armed me well
named me  from her blood stained mouth – Bella.

Bella, once she’d whisper with each kiss.
so she whispered with her death and once more gifts me life.

 

dsc_2505

good morning


If morning a sea of possibility

Then life boat is the coffee

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