Aaron Graham

Aaron Graham Poems

Love and War

Abiit Iam et Reverti Debet
(He has been gone for long and must once return)

The Beauty of the Woman

The beauty of the woman is behind her touch

And I too have stood in the grove, listening:
More an antique Roman than image of a man.
Straining, hearing only the wind: driving dust,

to Hecuba.

1) Butt-stock high in shoulder
I) Break the hand-guard
2) Good chipmunk cheek
II) Pull the handle back

Time is abstract, time is linear, has no form, no fixed construct.
Time refuses to lengthen for man. Within man
Between there is space to unfold time’s spirals.
Elongate seconds’ spiroid cartography to fill the void

Adaptation, survival, ROE, COC: abstractions;
Mean nothing.
Mean what your perception finds In them.
So, mean nothing.

The dead ones, actually death too: couldn’t interest me less
Tell the truth, I hate’em. Hate they’re still here
Stillness is chaos. This chaos was never even motion’s beauty.
Ungainly, they lay about

The Olive Branch grew without winter’s wisdom

Though Plow-shear fingers strokd’ dead-earth: bulging.

Saint Edmund was for England.

Saint Dennis was for France.

The Damn Birds,

I heard them again this morning

Baghdad Battles Beset by Bakke Bills

Some gave all, and all gave some,

USA Yearbook -2009-

LP/OP location undisclosed

Meditation: On Modern Deconstructionism

A stage for α κ ρ α σ ι α to hold truth’s trial,

In the aftermath, the storm finds its rest
Ariel, still bound to his timeless post
Mouthing a demotic broken angelus.
No more can I do with language, but lust.

We defiled the tomb that wasn’t there
Of the man who does not exist
Now he hunts me while I’m sleeping
I can feel his sightless eye’s stare

I thought I was out, was home, that I was free.

Thought id paid my debt, to home, to god, and country.

I’m home for good,

But I don’t go home anymore

Moss grows on but one side of a tree.
As before- stripped by the roll of a stone-
This caldera of disquiet, alone.


No more shall elms sleep: their ageless sentience
Slows scenes; wisdom’s eternal ecliptic
Brink of man’s mortal event horizon
Resolves: Catharsis of life’s macabre dance

Almost to easy to cut the umbilical
rid ourselves of sprawling void’s, shaded brown,
that expand to infinity, and of Casper Mt.’s shadow
So, the first night, of our last summer, drank

The Best Poem Of Aaron Graham

Love And War

Love and War

Abiit Iam et Reverti Debet
(He has been gone for long and must once return)

Prelude, Kuwait

Despite both faith and hope in times of love and of war—
Loneliness becomes a disease no medicine can cure.
In its final stages, always fatal—
A malignancy I battled before.
When we were in love.
When I was at war.

The Desert
My fortress built in a picture frame—
Allowed me to endure.
Forty times a day I would see within
What lay a lifetime, a gulf, and an ocean away:
My cure, my strength
When I had been hidden from life’s restless daggers
And lay beside you, my exact counterpoint
I fit.
That was, itself, contentment.
If anyone asked me if I was happy
I would, unflinching, look them in the eye and say

The Desert and Nowhere
When I was still able to see the picture
Our oak entertainment center, built at zero-drunk-thirty
That had some upside down shelves.
tan particle board and black paint clash.
Because I clash with directions.
Citrus candles: cause you hated that I smoke.
Your issues of Cosmopolitan stacked on our mismatched shelves.
I loved it all.
Even the TV
We stole from Jake’s trailer when he left town.

The picture frame broke
Too small to hold Contentment or peace
Wishes, and might-have-beens are a dead limb.
Best amputated before sepsis sets in.
I cut mine to late.
Life is full of betrayal
And I’m to full of life.

San Diego, California
The fear of being alone

Nowhere, California
Post operative care
There’s a funny duality in that.
A single note on official hospital stationary
Wife called.
Couldn’t stand these past 6 months.
Being alone.
She would have preferred me.
But—being alone—
She drove our car
To be with him
and not alone.
Kept my last name, but replaced

Nowhere, Nowhere
Life is helplessness in the pain of betrayal.
And I am still to full of life.

I am told what I say is bleak, dark,
And will only harden my heart.
Some people end up alone in life.
I are never to know the reason.
Wounds crust in time-salt.
There is poetry in despair
And life in the nothing that is not there
And the nothing that is.

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