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Archive for May, 2012

moonless night
still I walk into
my shadow

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It is awkward
at first, both hands
on the ground,
both feet straight up
in the air.
Still the heart,
as it floats
above the head
pumps steadily
through the fear.
And the arms,
they know how
to hold the weight
though they’ve never
done it before.
But the head
as it hangs, it
vexes and frets
to find itself
so near the floor.
So it tells the arms,
Buckle, and it all
falls down—
the head, the legs,
the breath, the core,
it all falls down
except for the
voice that rises
from somewhere
not in the head
saying, more,
do it more,
please, more.

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Learning to Listen

Like every day
today

we wake up
naked

regardless how
many layers

we wear.
All day

we’re naked,
trying our best

to pretend
that we

are not.
There are those

who hear
right through

the shirts
the hats

the coats,
who hear

the words that
every heart

is beating
under vests,

and v-neck tees—
hold me,

hold me,
hold me,

let me
go.

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alongside the cliff
keeping pace with my car
the blue heron

*

flying blackbird
dead mouse in its beak
this too is peace

*

more wind
than woman
this flesh

*

midnight
even the whitest lilies
are blue

*

sharing breath
with the crow
the whole world is crow

*

in the nest,
two blue eggs
two wide brown eyes

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this moon, rising
like that other moon did
all those years ago

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Years later
your laughter hatches
in my ears as if
there were an egg
that had slowly, miraculously
incubated there
and now a bird
made of your voice
is aflight in my head,
its song your words
it swoops in my silence
and lands on my breath.
I come to it
quietly, quivering,
feed it my attention,
and all is vertigo
the years unhinged,
my own unruly wings
beat to meet you
my friend, my friend.

*written for Karen Chamberlain, whose collection of poems, Ephedra, will be released posthumously this summer.

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Four for Joan May

beneath the mountain
slip by hours, months, years
as we walk

*

we reach the falls
and though we’ve not solved anything
we laugh and turn around

*

two women, a road
and nothing
they can’t say

*

spring wind
we walk and walk until
we disappear

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after the fight
the evening is simple—
the dishes being washed,
the unfolding of sheets,
the laying down

*

what is not said:
well, I guess we are not
exactly sure what
that would be now,
are we

*

on the shelves
stacks of bowls, plates,
the glasses in rows—
so normal they look,
it could be any night

*

I don’t know
I don’t know I don’t
know I
don’t know I don’t—
geese in the pond

*

what do the geese
have to do with anything?
if you have to ask,
you have perhaps not lately
watched the geese

*

all along the path
pussy willows, white and white
and oh! so soft
I forget everything
save willows, willows

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