Friday, June 21, 2024

True North

 And to think there must be a source

 left strangely unaware and responsible

 besides, who, with the string of clouds

 moves towards intermission 

it is time for us to be together

 to go to the screen to mind

 to get caught up in the fullness of music

 no more to reckon in the empty house of Romantics

 The ironic rain barrel, cuddle fish, 

one surveys the land and finds that the grass

 is much taller over there

 that this very afternoon is hot enough

 to muffle the exchanges between the wildflowers.,

 No one stands for something

 they wait for the light to pass on into berries

 or fizzle with questions, 

someday you will want to know more

 But no matter how hard you aim

 the book opens to the same page

and gives the same message.

And that may be the only strange

encouragement that you need.

Wednesday, June 19, 2024

New Poem

The seasons

beautiful involved, 

lovely like invisible elevators, 

who thought to get off 

at the next stop 

who thought the party 

was always there.

The lamps were on 

the glasses arrange themselves 

in the green light. 

There was a familiar spirit 

that changed into a hush 

on the hills in the evening 

when the room darkens,

 and one can see no farther 

than the face in the window 

it is as if a century has passed 

and people in the theater 

waltz out from their seats 

as the lights turn on 

and new ones waltz in.

Tuesday, June 18, 2024

First Fiction in Film

 I remember you were wearing purple

as the tangerine sun lit room

Accented the crochet .  I was six.


The day continued.

 I stopped looking.

The orange cat was always around.


I ran around the table

The pictures capture that.

Also, you waving into the camera.


And teaching others to say hello.

To pose. To walk slowly.

To pretend to walk before

Stepping on to your plane

And flying home.




Organizing Flowers into a Bouquet


Under Wednesday's umbrella
we shape our eternal dress
I tried to avoid saying that.
Glowing in jars of youth.
Breathing out layer-cakes.
We've grown silent
in these last careful months.
The marshland of notebooks
many remaining instruments
and the hint of citrus twist 
words into a particular curved roof.
This one here and that one there.
Is much of what it all comes down to
until we step away and see
How the wording created
A thought no one not even you
Knew you could think. 

 

Sunday, August 27, 2023

All Life is like this Afteroon

All life is like this afternoon
on your young sandy face
the weight of the stars
the body tasting like snow
a slipcover of communication
fleeting through the blue geography
Twilight paintings
firecracker mysteries
calm whole hurricanes
sandwiched within 
the intricacies of the day
before you knew it
even existed.

As Long as Russell Edson Lives

I am fine
but the moment
he is dead
I become
too hard to
figure out
my growing
room
labors like
tiny inventions
glancing
at each other
locked in the deciding
who came first
who came last
and who came at all.



Monday, August 7, 2023

Post Title

There was an internal destiny
the waterlogged nasturtiums missed it.
Like the ferns jutting from a moth's nose
Sal starred from his bed for a long time.
He walked out of his hotel room
and down the hall to the ice machine.
There he met a girl who smelled like kindness.
It was later that evening I was born.
I know I owe a lot of people 
looking for a cold drink
or who hear the rumbling of ice
now that the world is melting
and we are fleeing its shorelines.
I know. I pulled my car over, stopped,
for a moment to look back in hope 
that this extinction 
might give birth to something.



True North

 And to think there must be a source  left strangely unaware and responsible  besides, who, with the string of clouds  moves towards intermi...