#10

where stinging silence ropes the ear

seducing like you know it is

it's easy to put up now

feigned and trite solemnity

burn it up, say what

and load it into the truck

try to remember feeding the ducks

and pretend you still give an everloving fuck

#9

where the hard line drops

between have and have nots

where the grey old drake

always takes the cake

where cinnamon stars

over opium bars

swirl long and loose

we got a lot to do

#8

vibrato sliding and sliding and sliding

with a swing song so sweet

lots to love

where markers shine above

tracing sightlines through the sky

reminds you of when you were young

don't it?

#7

voices sank low

when bing entered the room

he didn't have any shoes on

and he had dirty feet, gunk crusted

you been slogging through the marsh

the home's master asked

the reply being a dismissive

i know, right?

#6

greenhouses spout soot

while headboards rock in sync

with toying harmony

zip zap zop

throwing turvy tops

when the magic's flushed the room

corks popping under happy bulbs

#5

snow cone caps

rifling along loudly

rolling down, down

where the christ stamp

is pressed against the inkpad

but left to dry out,

unused

#4

sitting on the docks in the dead of night

hand holding under cold shoulders

with reeds rushing and brackish

vapors sliding you backwards

to feeding ducks and playground trucks

running and swimming laps

the curious glow of lights under lampshade

surrounding you, dialing up loves long past

#3

my most memorable dreams aren't pretty

i have but fleeting remembrance of the horrors

they are not explosive, climatic, eruptive or disruptive

they do not, rest assured, make good stories

it's the simple smokestack against the full moon night

before you dive through a slide made of jagged metal cans

it's the way the sun peeks over the hills

rendering the world oddly mundane

the post apocalyptic smoke and fog swathed city

isn't political, mystical or physical

it's just a visual facade hiding feeling behind it

i beg you not trust too greatly the false promise

that lurks in the majesty of a beautiful dream

a self serving reinforcement, a sniff of romance

a promise of love you heavily doubt

gains life when bolstered with this nicotine

like sailors keeping a wary ear out for sirens

you'll write your own death sentence

submerging yourself in what your dreams say

while never considering what they don't

#2

i was born in an upstairs loft

with a crack in the ceiling to peer down

my parents enrolled me at a wonderful school

kindergarten to fifth grade in the most tranquil

tucked away little alcove you'd ever find

just below the freeway so the headlights could shine in at night

it was nicer and more

true than the next stop

a descended room with greasy carpeting

i majored in feigning sleep

eavesdropping in that harmless, just so way

i'm now a free man in number and name

gazing out the window of a secluded hideaway

taking delight in spying the lives of others

not for bitterness, shyness or perversion

but to see the private moments that make us human

played out unwittingly before me like i was

sitting in the globe in a secret seat

#1

disembodied franchise voices

spill cups en masse

streaming down the curved floor

and puddling up in front of a

movie screen

down by the waterfront

a popup moon with tassels and lace

where some were but others shall not be

lions leap from branches hanging

towards a child pinned under an errant log

on his way home one sunday evening

through a forest patched with cloth

forest cabin zoetrope

in crooked houses by crooked creeks

where silent mothers kiss their babies cheeks

its got to be warm in there

candlelight drenching the ground outside

a comfort by silhouette

finding yourself at night

too restless to grab a bite

or fight or spit or spin and dash

no people to see

no parties to crash

a subdued singsong soul lacking in support

both moral and emotional

can be drawn to scale

analyzed

taken apart up and down

and reassembled in traditional mosaic style

but be no more logical than it was before

lying on the ground staring straight

up up up

not a star in the sky

too embarrassed to knock on the door

worried that they wouldn't care

that you're stuck in the cold

and its got to be warm in there

untitled love sonnet

It's sweet and fine to sit beneath a tree

Tangling eyes and hearts beneath the flesh

Where romance is but doesn't try to be

When every deep breath feels so pure and fresh

Such love could only strike a man by luck

To dive headfirst into a soul so deep

To fight to keep his eyes from getting stuck

As soft lips and hips through his mind do creep

It's the light of the world that you give to me

With windswept features to burn my memory

And selfless courage that sets my worries free

If only you could be my one, my every

Your eyes, your nose, your ears, your hair

Have left my heart beyond repair

A brief explanation.

While I was updating my other blog, The Great Cave Offensive, I realized that perhaps I could create a separate blog exclusively for posting any poetry I write. This is a very important step to take, because given that my general blog has been viewed to date by no less than four human beings, I deem it necessary to divide that pool of readership into two separate locations. I'm sure you'll agree that with a base that size, my efforts to expand and conquer the internet is well under way.

So, anyhow, this is the number one spot for the poetry of Chris Tognotti. What poetry I posted on my other blog will remain there (as well as being reprinted here), but any new things will be posted exclusively on this page. Hopefully this is useful to the aforementioned four (the fantastic four as I've made a point never to call them) human being who've admitted in one way or another to having read the other blog, but might not necessarily want to read my meandering poetic bull(sugar).

Without further ado...