|
|
the clouds survey its progress as it makes its way downbreeze parent trees silently applaud with firey pompoms it goes unnoticed by squirrels and cars but my muscles flutter apace together we slip out into the Colorado blue and later land among thousands in the dying grass.
I try to stay close on the heels of my shadow.
Growing taller and taller
the further from the light she goes
stretched thin.
In darkness
gone but of it.
In light stomped at times
crisp and pure enough
to lead me.
The wolf at my side
made of energy. No threat
left unexplored.
All signs are inspected.
Puddles are avoided.
A certain amount of panting
leads to stopping.
Her shadow never quite so tall
never so dark and pure.
A wolf shadow on my heels
is no threat
empty of energy and whirling
on this globe
like all of us,
like all the light. Fri, May. 1st, 2009, 09:12 pm
81. Fatigue
Tar courses through me in reluctant waves Sludgey and thick fingers rise and fall brain trudges out on a black tide the ebb and flow invisible to the naked heavy lidded eye sleek ecstatic red blood a distant memory of a time when I slept
Fri, May. 1st, 2009, 09:08 pm
I DID IT!!!!*
30 poems in 30 days!! That's what I did!! *Okay, so in a very technical sense, I did not write a poem every day for thirty days. Though sometimes I wrote 3 poems in one day, I did write 30 poems over the course of 30 days. And I employed the general strategy of writing about the day on which the poem I was writing about was supposed to fall. I wrote less poems in the course of my 9 month thesis back in undergrad than I did this month. And you know what? I think I got a few more in me. #81 the very next day, May 1? Aw. Why not -- just for old times sake.
Like a dog in a compost pile I spent a month writing poems digging up nuggets of rich loam and strands of putrescence and all I can say is I'm ready for a bath
On that first morning (an imbalanced truck, a second day of blinking yellow lines, walkie talkies debating fast food, a stuffed bear in the hotel lobby) the robins swarm the yard (boxes crossing the boundary from truck to garage, an empty house in need of paint, a weak wireless connection) in search of worms (a decrepit gate, a broken wine glass, a blown light bulb, a junk-filled shed, outlets in need of grounding) brought up by the rain.
calm under the belly of the black bird ocean you whisper in a numbed voice of reverence into the sky ashes far flung give up their ghost oceans of char called home
Mon, Apr. 27th, 2009, 10:20 pm
77. unexpected
Unexpected white fury morning snow pounding tiny pale fists into the ground death by tiny ire after tiny ire By 3pm the calm collects around puddles watery forgiveness rides bark slides to the ground Unexpected flaxen pleasure morning sun sending tiny tickling fingers into the loam life in new tulip after new tulip
9:30am and I am called to respond tree buds pattern white siding with shadows frail white flowers on red-stemmed branches a squirrel a dandelion a sky both sharp and hazy an autopsy reveals a diagnosis of spring
wrought iron drink rest cement under boots city lights star against the black top back drop watching the drama move in and out of doors walk by in short shorts stomping tear-stained beside the wobbling woman under two winter hats an oasis cool air leaking in around collar and cuffs
closed blinds shut out the moon after hours my voice pleads along the silver strands of cobwebs hands weaving strong arguments for soothed nerves like a life jacket around an anvil one steadies a rocked boat stay, rest, trust and give it three days
Still life with books Soft fog fugue words conquered, letters matched and when I get home hard fast nap
Soft chocolate chip integrity so sweet in how it crumbles beneath cavity-laden teeth. Fresh out of the oven, smelling of home, integrity melts in my mouth leaving only the aftertaste (slightly acidic) of self-respect.
Have you said goodbye to a cat? Have you said goodbye on a mat? Have you said goodbye to a man? Have you said goodbye with a tan? Have you said goodbye with out fear? Have you said goodbye full of tears? Have you said goodbye in the sun? Have you said goodbye? 3... 2... 1...
Mon, Apr. 20th, 2009, 12:08 am
70. Sure
Warm body in the flesh contrasts with the cold flesh in my mind: sinister maternal intent flung out the window shot dead in all its nudity while the man runs in the house the same crazy eyes sure he's my friend sure undeath so close I am moments away from inhaling the tainted air. My breath coasts across your warm back loving serpents' arms coil me in safety snores replace gasps love fear
A 5am renewal strangely familiar feelings in my body of liberation from dread and doubt comes pleasure shocking careworn hard-fought rickety sweet connection at 5am so many many hours later
A flock of grackles comingle blackly with starlings. Flickers bring the red light district to the suet. House finches fill in the seams. A day's worth of thick snow is chipped away by a casual rain. Gentle fork sounds from the kitchen, a dog's collar jingles with interest. The grackles talk in ungreased hinges. I bless a sneeze.
Fri, Apr. 17th, 2009, 12:46 pm
68. warm
The tension of fiction
scours the living room
with an icy light
piled on the couch
head on husband
dog warmly underfoot
the tension of fiction
is light years away Thu, Apr. 16th, 2009, 12:44 pm
67. the bucket
An empty well
atop a
roiling ocean
hidden from
the bucket's tiresome grasp
Waking up to dream dreaming myself to sleep reality stabbing me with rusty nails shot from the goal barrels BRAIN pushing stammering suffering stuttering BRAIN Dreaming up to wake sleeping myself to dream rust stabbing me with reality nails shot from the barrels' goal
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
thoughtful
tired
accomplished
confused
excited
anxious