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Archive for October, 2012

I Was Constantly Looking

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 13, 2012| 2 Comments »

First I wanted
to find the straightest
path from me to you,
and clear it
of all the stones,
the cliffs, the weeds.
Now I feel it is all
the path, how it all
leads to you, even
the stones,
the cliffs, weeds.

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Do you believe in always, the wind said to the rain

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 12, 2012| 8 Comments »

—poem on a line from e.e. cummings

Rubble, smoke, sparrow, stone,
she wakes in darkness all alone.

Angel, master, docent, thief,
she wears the scars of love and grief.

Furrow, honey, Chopin, moss,
those are veils that are her loss.

There’s more, there’s more to be undone—
milk, lattice, lily, plum.

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Entering the Labyrinth

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 11, 2012| 2 Comments »

They’re higher than I would have thought,
these walls, and colder, too, the sunlight
only reaching the top of the maze. But I
have my thread and a crust of rye bread.
I am shuddering sooner than I’d imagined I would,
only six turns in. The sword is too heavy to carry.
I turn to the walls themselves, and say to them
what I have rehearsed to say to the minotaur:
What do you have to teach me?
Already it is unclear why I am here. Was I chosen?
Did I choose this? The walls say nothing at all.
They say, What does it matter why? You are here.
I drop the thread, eat the bread, lean the sword
against the wall and sing whatever tune
comes. The song ricochets in the narrow halls
and rises out of the maze toward the sky. I can see
it is blue. I can smell the wild roses that just this week
came into bloom, and though they are not in here,
they’re here. I ask the roses, what do you have
to teach me? They say nothing. They say,
it is not how to die, it’s how to be alive.
The minotaur, I hear his snarl. Part of me favors
to crouch. Part of me tucks the pink scent into my hair.

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How I Begin to Abandon My Longing for the Perfect

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 10, 2012| 2 Comments »

with thanks to Rita Robinson

Even considering
the sputtering sky

and the caving between
my shoulder blades
where my heart
should fill the body’s cage,

despite the lack
of song today

and regardless
of angry voices
that scuffle
and riddle
the gutters outside,

even then I read
in a letter her closing words,
so much love here
right now, she says,
for you, for us,
and slowly,

as if just awakening
in a foreign country
in a too short bed
surrounded by
unfamiliar sounds
and slants of shadow
and assaulted with
exotic scents,

I hint by hint
come to
recognize myself,
and know
with irrational
and utter certainty
she’s right.

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The Pleasures of Flow

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

The great gift, contrary to assumption,
is to disappear.

—Barry Spacks, The Pleasures of Flow

Like the scent of lemon
once intense in bare hands.
Like cottonwood leaves—
how they flee
first in heaps
and then one
by one
leaving empty
degrees of space.
Like the last note
of the solo cello
after the bow
has stilled.
Like stars
in the face
of one
great star
so close
to us.
Like
the taste
of a kiss
that persists
long after
the lips
are
gone.

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Games We Play

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2012| 2 Comments »

For an hour today, she practices escaping
from the stairs. There is no jail here,

only our pretense of bars. She,
the bank robber. I the police.

I lock her up again with my invisible
jail cell key. Then I swallow the key,

I throw it away, but she always produces another,
an invisible skeleton key she’s been hiding

somewhere around her and she lets
herself out again, then hovers nearby

to be caught. I feign dismay. She’s
escaped, again! And search for her,

looking right through her. Until,
aha! I say, and grab her. She never

struggles much, almost hurls her body
at me to be caught. So similar to

how I want to be held, forever,
I say, and then the next moment

I long for escape. Oh sweet
imagination, how real it all can seem,

like this girl slipping away from the stairs,
saying for the fourteenth time, catch me again.

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Following Her Lead

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 8, 2012| 4 Comments »

for Ulli Sir Jesse

Surrounded with falling,
you choose joy.

Given a minor tune,
you change a note

and the melody, now major,
finds new gaps

in the day’s dark staves.
Given a lump, you dissolve it

with tears. In the face of loss,
you smile and offer your hand.

In the hail, you sing. In the dark,
you sing. And all along the trail,

you sing and invite the world
to sing with you. I will sing

with you. Though I weep,
I will sing with you. Though

you move father away, I sing
with you, I sing with you

wherever you go, I sing
because that is what we do,

we who know harmony
as one of the ladders

to god, we who feel how
the song sings us, and because

you have taught us
so beautifully, we sing,

though it sounds perhaps
more like gurgling tonight,

more like keening, or wailing,
we sing, gonna rise up, we sing.

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Seven True Stories

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

Seven True Stories

divided highway
late night, coming in my lane
head lights, a story

*

the sky and I,
both of us opening—
peal of unrung bells

*

the old cottonwood
tell me, when is the last time
you climbed it?

*

that ornery face,
yep, I folded it up,
put it in a safe place

*

laying in the grass
our bodies altars—
gold leaf offerings

*

everything shimmering
how could I not French kiss
the chill air

*

that bird, wonder if
he too gets so stunned by sky
he forgets how to sing

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Two at Night

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on October 5, 2012| 2 Comments »

staring at stars
with these eyes made of
old stars

*

what is your address?
I ask my girl, hoping she’ll say
earth

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Four Gifts

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 4, 2012| 3 Comments »

clouded sky
I never doubt
the stars

*

yellow dotted line
one foot on either side
walking with the crow

*

clenched, clutched, still
the only thing that makes sense
open the heart again

*

listening
inside the wailing
silence

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