March 2012
9 posts
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a yearn
pearl,
if i could press my own thumbs
against those tiny continents
blind read your polished feet
virgin pads
on the walls of my womb -
it is they who know
both
of you know.
you have traveled
a beautiful circumference
a map constellation a pattern of dancing
soon
down in the distance
one lovely turn
it unravels
those slow months of tidy orbital tangle
and smooths the sweet span of
our...
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anticipated parcels
one summer the parsley
in my garden
was hung with fat striped caterpillars
like a fertile orchard.
i collected them in jars,
the infants of the swallowtail
and set them in the window
just above my kitchen sink.
water run
soap birthed bubbles
in silver pots
and they, the children, hung,
they spun.
i fretted
and tempted
touched
each smooth green
pouch
to invite
some cherished jolts.
and...
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February 2012
6 posts
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the steady artist eludes me
there are those
who send out
lines and hues
to the paper
in smooth consistent tones
spelling their names
in predicted hand
fit to their landscape bodies like
ice skater nylon.
i don’t suppose
i cast forth identity
so neatly yet.
every time
a different accent
a slight variety of woman
spreading in the
charcoal and the paint.
2 tags
vehicle duet
and now
the intersection
breathes
the red light flips
and conducts the brakes
of a semi-truck
into bright soprano
rising higher
over
rising higher
than windy chords
that stream
beneath
that are streaming
now
from the broad
pipes
the smooth broad pipes
hidden deep in the chest of a
freight train.
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January 2012
13 posts
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the instant spectator
i have never seen
those little white nests
erupt its lives,
those aphid planets
spill forth the fruit of
an incubation.
i have never
seen a delicate
wobbling wet feathered head
throw off the
crackled bits of an egg shell
nor witnessed
the quiet death of
a honey bee
when all its jobs
were done.
but there i was,
flying down the stripe
when another man sneezed
at the wheel
all the while...
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a quick wealth
like stiff veins spreading in the sky
frozen for the winter
the branches
years have taken
up and over our roof
in this hour
of the sun’s leaving
its massive golden backside
casting back brilliance
plumes of fortune
to gild these
streaking frames
the colors of a metal fire
a gleaming
brighter
than the festival blaze
of their autumn children.
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moon day
there i go
sailing about
with the defroster
roaring out engine remnants
the clouds peeled back
to the sea, i suppose
letting the air sharpen
itself to twenty-five.
everything
a sheen
as if the moon and its clearest light
had come down
to this day.
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clean house
The third of January
all the evergreen trees
tossed to the curb
on Earle Street.
The prettiest trash
of the year
a reminiscent bounty
for the men
who jump off a truck
that says
“yard waste”
on its sides.
Out of this great green hearse
the aromatic mound
fed to chewing machines
for a quick return
to the earth.
December 2011
14 posts
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field trip
we entered the center
a triangle spiral taking us up and up
how threads on a strange screw
would be a smooth stair march
but for this little boy,
drawn to the edge of each balcony
as if it were a spectacle
all railed in like a lion.
and then there!
the parade
on the great white walls!
wearing gold all around
for us. a lady, a man and a boy.
he could not be still
even on a hand leash,
this captured...
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christmas eve
he had cast out his dreams,
his strength of certainty
in silver streamers
and then lay
warm
and eyelid blind
in a colorful blanket cocoon.
so here we are,
parents
left holding the strands
attempting to weave them
over and under
and through-
filling the stocking
retrieving
the careful offering
from before the front door.
he lay
warm
and eyelid blind
in a colorful blanket cocoon
and my other
my own...
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the greatest of these
the greatest of these
is a thread
strung in ice
strung fine,
streaking inside itself
bits of light.
spun like live nerves
of a spine intertwined
deep
into tissue-
a placenta
of vessels.
and here I hang
from a crease in the palm of God
twirling,
like a spider.
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the dour prophet
that a child would
see the rain
and predict depths
enough
to drown in.
that he would
assume the thunder
was the voice
of an angry God.
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a ridiculous psalm
Lord,
look at me
standing in this white field of manna that
shines like the surface of an ice berg
gleams like a universe harvest
of moons
do you see how my hands are up and open
asking you for a big roast chicken and netted bag of florida oranges?
November 2011
3 posts
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silver dollar shepherd
you told me tonight
that God blew the moon to follow our car.
He and His entangled particles
cast that bright leaf onto the river
sent to sail over us gloamers, us glassy-eyed fishes
we and our motors as we cradle you
home.
-that one was for you, Marshall darling
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reoccuring
didn’t i already have a blog? yes… its true… but here i am. here i am, my computer is a huffing and puffing dinosaur that can’t abide passengers like hundreds of raw photos, the baby in my belly that begs to lie down by 8pm and a zillion other excuses. but, i have decided to heed my favorite set of words, “style is a product of your limitations” and fly with...
