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Archive for April, 2012

Now What?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on April 12, 2012| 4 Comments »

Not just broken
but grandly wrecked,
splintered like tinder,
crushed to dust,
shattered, cracked,
busted, whacked
smashed and scattered,
battered, trashed,
scoffed at, mocked,
chicken pocked
and all the pieces rearranged—
which is to say
things
change.

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Video poem featured today on Moving Poems

Posted in Uncategorized on April 11, 2012| 5 Comments »

What happens after we die? Moving Poems is a site devoted to daily video poems–Dave Bonta collects them daily, and today chose this one of mine that thinks about what happens after we die while on a walk with Joan May. The site is so much fun to explore. Obviously many of the people who are making poetry videos are filmmakers … really wonderful stuff there. Thanks Dave, for letting me join the conversation.


http://movingpoems.com/2012/04/no-hurry-to-find-out-by-rosemerry-wahtola-trommer/

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And Oh, the Pout that Comes Then

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 11, 2012| 3 Comments »

Higher, she says,
though the swing
will not go higher
without buckling
the chain, and again
she says, Higher,
and it seems so human
for her to want more,
and so human to want
to give it to her,
impossible though
it is.

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A Dozen Long-stemmed Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 10, 2012| 7 Comments »

they can stay on,
your clothes, but please take off
everything else

*

blue, blue thoughts—
blackbirds fly
right through them

*

sun and more sun—
still I do not
pray for rain

*

clear spring—
everyone, everything I meet
a lover

*

soft wind—
did it touch
you, too?

*

cloudless night—
we sleep alone
together

*

cattails,
broken open, blown apart—
now the seeds

*

deeper
into the wound—
scent of white lily

*

the moon slips
into my tea—
no sleeping now

*

one cold night—
on every limb
ruined blossoms

*

step outside
I crown you—
billions of stars

*

I keep it
under my tongue—
your name

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A Little Noticing

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 9, 2012| 2 Comments »

Still,
still,
and then new leaves
are ruffled by
the morning breeze
and shimmied, trembled,
shaken till they’re
still.

Silent,
silent
till the birds
all trilling through
the trees are heard—
they sing their spirals,
coo and call until they’re
hush shhh.

Quiet,
quiet,
till the bloom
of anger does
what angers do—
riles, outcries
and tells us lies
until we live
it through

and then it’s quiet here
and silent, still,
till something rises
as it will
from nothing—
and how always
we return always
to nothing.

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Real Love Starts Then

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on April 7, 2012| 6 Comments »

The first things to break
are made of glass—
tumblers, vases,
window panes—

then the wood,
how it snaps,
the floors, the counters,
the entire frame,

and even the metal—
the stainless, the iron,
the rings,
it all shatters, collapses,

everything,
and it takes a long time
for the shards and dust,
for the wreckage and the whole ruined lot

to become what it is,
just a heap of stuff,
not what we are made of,
not at all what we are made of.

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three more for the sacred barroom

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 7, 2012| 2 Comments »

Forever? That’s quite
a promise, but can you
love me now?

*

On my lips
too many rising kisses
left to dangle

*

Reaching for your hand
to touch
what doesn’t speak

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haiku for a sacred barroom

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on April 6, 2012| 2 Comments »

please kiss them
my palms, I’ve emptied them
in case

*

twilight
everything glazed with shine—
your hum

*

the wind
never asks when it touches me
there

*

these hands, two white birds,
your skin
the sky

*

soft breeze
my longing
grows longer

*

slipping out
of my excuses into something
more comfortable

*

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Communion

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on April 5, 2012| 3 Comments »

As salt dissolves in ocean, I was swallowed up in you beyond doubt or being sure.
—Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Glisten and wet lick
and thick river scent—
that is everything.

Swords. Shields.
Stories of who did what
to whom and when—

and all those hows, whether
divine or horrendous—
gone.

Even these words
you and me
reduce to vacant syllables

in the face of such
movement, such shine—
I could never explain but

it rushes in so clear
that whatever
we once thought

of as other is here
in the clamor
of snowmelt, here

in the river birch
waiting for green,
here in the shove of tumbling

breath as we realize wave
and lose
all we were sure of,

lose the path
that got us here,
lose even the loss of it.

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spring storm haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 4, 2012| 6 Comments »

wet snowflakes, thousands—
oh that a lover could have
so many tongues

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