This Much I Know

Fri 11/23/12 at 1:20 am

On this date, at this time, four years ago, the music died.

This Much I Know

This much I know
To be true
With a certainty more certain
Than sure and certain hope.

I know it
Unquestionably,
Without question,
Beyond question.

I know it
Undoubtedly,
Without doubt.
Beyond doubt.

This much I know.
My brother,
My beloved brother,
Is still dead.

The rest is silence.

cko
November 23, 2012
1:20 a.m. PST


previous post: Poem Upon Waking

Poem Upon Waking

Sat 09/29/12 at 3:23 pm

The secret of life.
We all die.
Get over it. And live.

cko 9/29/2012

 

next post: This Much I Know
previous post: Oh, My Brother

Oh, My Brother

Tue 11/08/11 at 3:00 pm

Oh, my Brother, my Brother.
Dead.
Dead?
My Brother? Dead?
MY BROTHER IS DEAD?

I wish I could believe
My death would present an opportunity
For God to tell me Why.
A Why might help —
Not really.

I see him
Sauntering down the street
Dressed in his favorite best
Internally warmed by his last martini
Against the autumn chill.

Moving toward the fateful encounter
“Fateful” because a minute,
Perhaps even seconds,
On either side
And he walks on, undead.

Instead, he slaps at the vehicle
Driven by a Black, Swedish Rapper.
You read right,
A Black Swedish Rapper,
Driving

Not a beloved ’65 fastback ‘stang,
Or a ’67 Cobra,
Or a ’70 Chevelle,
But a rental
A rental.

And so they watched
As the Black Swedish Rapper
Emerged from the rental and
Killed the Music.
The rest is silence.

– cko, August 30, 2011

next post: Poem Upon Waking
previous post: Obstruction

Obstruction

Thu 12/03/09 at 10:51 am

I saw again this morning
that which will be
the death of me.
By-product of my misspent youth.
No one ever told me
I could misspend so soon.

cko
December 3, 2009

next post: Oh, My Brother
previous post: Synonymic 2

Synonymic 2

Mon 04/20/09 at 1:15 pm

No eye is on the sparrow and nobody’s watching me = Cave, Cave Dominus videt — NOT!

next post: Obstruction
previous post: Synonymic

Synonymic

Fri 03/27/09 at 9:57 am

Let us make humankind in our image = I am become you

next post: Synonymic 2
previous post: 2:12ish

2:12ish

Sat 12/20/08 at 11:49 pm

2:12ish my time,
Every day he worked,
He would call
From the same Starbuck’s near his office.

“Hi, my John.”
“Hi, my Kris.”

“How are you? How’s your health?”

And then a report of his night,
His day ‘til then.

“Well, I guess I better eat my protein bar
And go up the hill.”

“I love you.”
“I love you.”

Good-bye.

cko
11/24/08

next post: Synonymic
previous post: The Real Suspension of Disbelief

The Real Suspension of Disbelief

Mon 11/03/08 at 2:38 pm

Let’s be honest.

How many of us
Would simply

Let our virgin child live,
Stay hidden among the women,
Remain celibate,

Kick the bum out,
Marry the first suitable suitor,
Leave the brother’s body to the dogs,

Stay with Circe,
Stay with Dido,
Stay in the Shire?

cko
10/18/2008

next post: 2:12ish
previous post: Why stop us the climbing?

Why stop us the climbing?

Sat 08/23/08 at 9:45 am

Why do we stop climbing trees?
Or, for that matter,
Looking for trees to climb.
Or, for that matter,
Looking at trees for their climbability.
Or, for that matter,
Looking at trees.
Or , for that matter,
Looking for trees.
Or, for that matter,
Why stop us the asking?

cko
8/23/2008

next post: The Real Suspension of Disbelief
previous post: Illustration No. 1

Illustration No. 1

Sun 08/17/08 at 7:06 am

Anglo-
We interrupt this program . . .

Saxon
News Flash!

cko
08/17/08

next post: Why stop us the climbing?
previous post: Quiz

Quiz

Mon 07/28/08 at 6:42 am

Which statement was written by a college graduate:

a) I’m not dead yet.
b) I’m not dead, yet.
c) I’m not dead . . . yet.
d) I’m not dead. Yet.
e) I’m not dead; yet.
f) I’m not dead yet?
g) I’m not dead yet!

cko
7/28/08

next post: Illustration No. 1
previous post: Final Jeopardy Answer

Joe Joe

Sun 07/13/08 at 8:29 am

I don’t care what the Good Book says
Our Savior said.
No amount of Faith
(mustard seeds notwithstanding)
Can move
An 86-pound greyhound
Splayed, Sphinx-like,
Munching his morning biscuit.

cko
July 5, 2005

next post: Quiz
previous post: TGIF

TGIF

Fri 05/16/08 at 4:07 pm

You can get that
The world before you
5:00 Friday feeling
Different ways.

Yours now comes Monday night at 9:30.
Mine after successfully negotiating the shower
One more time.

But unless you’ve worked
Monday thru Friday
8 to 5
You can’t know how it feels.
You won’t know what you’re feeling.

At the very least,
You call it something else.

cko
May 16, 2008

next post: Joe Joe
previous post: Haiku

Haiku

Tue 05/02/06 at 7:11 am

Mulberries in Spring
Give a whole new meaning to
“I blew my brains out.”

5/2/06

next post: TGIF
previous post: Performance Piece

Performance Piece

Wed 01/11/06 at 5:26 pm

Upon the addition of a “Poetry” category to Walking Raven

I am
Perhaps
A poet
After all

I am
Perhaps
After all
A poet

I am
A poet
After all
Perhaps

I am
A poet
Perhaps
After all

I am
After all
Perhaps
A poet

I am
After all
A poet
Perhaps

Perhaps
A poet
I am
After all

Perhaps
A poet
After all
I am

Perhaps
After all
A poet
I am

Perhaps
After all
I am
A poet

Perhaps
I am
A poet
After all

Perhaps
I am
After all
A poet

A poet
After all
I am
Perhaps

A poet
After all
Perhaps
I am

A poet
I am
After all
Perhaps

A poet
I am
Perhaps
After all

A poet
Perhaps
After all
I am

A poet
Perhaps
I am
After all

After all
I am
A poet
Perhaps

After all
I am
Perhaps
A poet

After all
Perhaps
I am
A poet

After all
Perhaps
A poet
I am

After all
A poet
I am
perhaps

After all
A poet
Perhaps
I am

next post: Haiku
previous post: Haiku with Ecphonesis

Haiku with Ecphonesis

Tue 01/10/06 at 2:54 pm

My time has now come.
But I will speak of no things.
The Walrus be damned.
Goo goo g’joob!

Copyright © 2006 by cko

next post: Performance Piece
previous post: Drunk Behind the Moon

Drunk Behind the Moon

Fri 01/06/06 at 10:45 pm

Poetry ranks closest to Art.
Still, it follows.
Sometimes, though, words and syntax trigger the quickening.

“Drunk behind the moon.”
And we are there.
In the dark.
In the cold.

And then,
Old Mr. Flood himself
Singing to himself
In dissociated harmony.

A dry martini.
Stolichnaya.
Up.
With an olive.

Now that’s a metafer.

Revised January 6, 2006
Copyright © by cko

next post: Haiku with Ecphonesis
previous post: Dialectic

Dialectic

Fri 01/06/06 at 1:17 pm

And if I give all my possessions to the poor, and if I deliver my body to be burned,
but do not have love, it profits me nothing.
1 Corinthians 13.3

I.

I sleep now
facing your ghost.

II.

Take, eat.
Take, eat.

This is my body
This is my body

Given for thee.
Given for thee.

III.

It is not good we should be alone.
Isolato.

Whither thou goest
Follow me.

For as long as there is love,
Love one another.

January 6, 1996

Copyright © 1996 by cko

next post: Drunk Behind the Moon
previous post: We’re All Alone

We’re All Alone

Thu 09/15/05 at 2:35 pm
“Nobody reads this shit,”
You proclaimed, 
Handing me a book written
For no reason other than survival.

Publish or perish.

“Nobody reads this shit, either.”
I muttered,
Handing the judge a brief written
For no reason other than comfort.

Eat what you kill.

“Will you read my nonshit?”
I asked again, this time
Handing you pages written 
For no reason other than need.

I was not worthy.

“Obviously I’ve mistaken you for someone who cares.”
I thought, almost appreciating the irony and
Retracting the pages
For no reason other than regret.

I can endure the sweet ache of your flustered rejection.
It is you who will miss the seamless web.

September 15, 2005
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