old milk go biscuits
emaciated briquettes
dried apricots plums
cranberries revived
blessed water go biscuits
a dry run for coming famine
famine elsewhere
coming home to lie
with we who have enough
for now famine chases
farm factory workers
too sick to work
too sick to not
falling dead in furrows
falling dead at conveyors
falling dead at cutting
blocks stolen away greedy
combines’ viscous mowing
spit out in bales
buried during dark
moon’s moaning
bitter harvest
Friday, May 29, 2020
poem 51
old climbing rose played out
grey canes split drought
rains heavy and late
streamers not drops
plummet pound
fragile universe erupts
tiny soft green stars
...
...
revision 5/29/20
grey canes split drought
rains heavy and late
streamers not drops
plummet pound
fragile universe erupts
tiny soft green stars
...
...
revision 5/29/20
poem 50
memory treacherous
memory all we have
clanging cellular accounts
letters tossed gone awry
how crammed purpose
destroys aspiration
risks block sales
chains forced steps
commingles what we know
with what we wish
with what they want us to remember
resilience relies upon surviving loss
no where else to lay our heads
only on slipping pillows
of stories told at dusk
luminous at dawn
memory all we have
clanging cellular accounts
letters tossed gone awry
how crammed purpose
destroys aspiration
risks block sales
chains forced steps
commingles what we know
with what we wish
with what they want us to remember
resilience relies upon surviving loss
no where else to lay our heads
only on slipping pillows
of stories told at dusk
luminous at dawn
Saturday, May 23, 2020
poem 49
old grey climber dead
thick split canes bark
at late rains come heavy
streamers not droplets
plummeting pounding
mere days fragile green
unfurls lifts sunward
thick split canes bark
at late rains come heavy
streamers not droplets
plummeting pounding
mere days fragile green
unfurls lifts sunward
poem 48
There is no return to Then.
There is only Now.
what i make
what you make
what we make
Then—fantasy
when in actuality
what we lost
is freedom to hug
anyone everyone
we carry what we always carry
crazy quilt of love joy regret guilt
unfathomable ecstasy despair
burning agonies soothing peace
bottoming out comfort solitude
communal leaning family
broken or thickly stranded
war jealousy hate cruelty
driven achievements hollow
useless dying glows we burnish
cup hands around flames we
imagine not existent insistent
love carries us unless we succumb
in sinful seas of greed tempting us
beyond reason still there’s love
all this and far more we carry
what we have no real words for
what we long to set down
and do not dare not too afraid
of being suddenly freed trapped
Forever
Now—an enormous yawning universe
takes a breath we lean away from
want to stifle as we run terrified run
wildly towards when given courage
by bright new days rainy shiny dawns
we want to race across deserts as if distant
ranges of possibility hold only comfort
prosperity without risks challenges
new griefs new moral dilemmas
complexities we can not yet see
as if we can leave all that far behind
as far behind as our fantasized Then
we so long for tie our ankles to
selectively dragging a web of longing
there is no return yet time measures us
as it pours through ancestors fingers
let fall what may lean into their ghost
arms lay our heads on their broad misty
shoulders their whispers echo vibrate
our breasts warns us keep potatoes from
rot yourself from moral blight and greed
your life only a tossed grain rippling rings
no greater no less than any other grain
winds whisper winds whisper winds whisper
remember Love remember Love remember Love
There is only Now.
what i make
what you make
what we make
Then—fantasy
when in actuality
what we lost
is freedom to hug
anyone everyone
we carry what we always carry
crazy quilt of love joy regret guilt
unfathomable ecstasy despair
burning agonies soothing peace
bottoming out comfort solitude
communal leaning family
broken or thickly stranded
war jealousy hate cruelty
driven achievements hollow
useless dying glows we burnish
cup hands around flames we
imagine not existent insistent
love carries us unless we succumb
in sinful seas of greed tempting us
beyond reason still there’s love
all this and far more we carry
what we have no real words for
what we long to set down
and do not dare not too afraid
of being suddenly freed trapped
Forever
Now—an enormous yawning universe
takes a breath we lean away from
want to stifle as we run terrified run
wildly towards when given courage
by bright new days rainy shiny dawns
we want to race across deserts as if distant
ranges of possibility hold only comfort
prosperity without risks challenges
new griefs new moral dilemmas
complexities we can not yet see
as if we can leave all that far behind
as far behind as our fantasized Then
we so long for tie our ankles to
selectively dragging a web of longing
there is no return yet time measures us
as it pours through ancestors fingers
let fall what may lean into their ghost
arms lay our heads on their broad misty
shoulders their whispers echo vibrate
our breasts warns us keep potatoes from
rot yourself from moral blight and greed
your life only a tossed grain rippling rings
no greater no less than any other grain
winds whisper winds whisper winds whisper
remember Love remember Love remember Love
poem 47
memory treacherous
memory all we have
after
hanging cellular accounts
letters tossed awry
crammed purpose destroys
commercializes commingles
aspiration violence innocence
loss
nowhere to lay our heads except
on slipping pillows stories told at dusk
memory all we have
after
hanging cellular accounts
letters tossed awry
crammed purpose destroys
commercializes commingles
aspiration violence innocence
loss
nowhere to lay our heads except
on slipping pillows stories told at dusk
Friday, May 8, 2020
Monday, May 4, 2020
poem 45
Itza Wildin flew
right off rails
bucking under
restraint hanging
swinging breasts
crack her heart
a hairsuit crabbed
together unspeakable
long known wounds
ignored
Itza Wildin lumbers
when not flying
as if slowness
saves a moment
if not a day
pretending
stillness shines
buttercups new
blown
as if plain light
were enough
until it is
right off rails
bucking under
restraint hanging
swinging breasts
crack her heart
a hairsuit crabbed
together unspeakable
long known wounds
ignored
Itza Wildin lumbers
when not flying
as if slowness
saves a moment
if not a day
pretending
stillness shines
buttercups new
blown
as if plain light
were enough
until it is
poem 44
Itza Wildin took
to invisibility
pacing dodging
mental combines
lumbering across
her soulbrain
stretched out
a disappearing
ravaged geography
where winds whip
green oats still
heady with Spring
blades spin roar
devour remnants
as if thrashed hopes
winnowed passions
never existed
to invisibility
pacing dodging
mental combines
lumbering across
her soulbrain
stretched out
a disappearing
ravaged geography
where winds whip
green oats still
heady with Spring
blades spin roar
devour remnants
as if thrashed hopes
winnowed passions
never existed
Sunday, May 3, 2020
poem 42
if a long breath running the entire
geographies of lungs pushing ribs
to meet Buddha at crossroads
of acceptance what lies ahead
a mystery of line interrupted exhales
if a breath running third eye to toe tip
stumbles on ego unchecked clutters
catches on exhale convulsively
coughs stuttering staggering on
pretending nothing wrong sighs
if a long breath runs head on
into grief bound muscles frozen
nerves afraid of release in terror
of acceptance wilted buds empty
promises exhausts nothing
if a long breath unexpectedly relieves
heart bleats slow blood falls down
pools in flattened arches stills
heels no impatient taps soles
quiet not running away freely exhales
geographies of lungs pushing ribs
to meet Buddha at crossroads
of acceptance what lies ahead
a mystery of line interrupted exhales
if a breath running third eye to toe tip
stumbles on ego unchecked clutters
catches on exhale convulsively
coughs stuttering staggering on
pretending nothing wrong sighs
if a long breath runs head on
into grief bound muscles frozen
nerves afraid of release in terror
of acceptance wilted buds empty
promises exhausts nothing
if a long breath unexpectedly relieves
heart bleats slow blood falls down
pools in flattened arches stills
heels no impatient taps soles
quiet not running away freely exhales
Saturday, May 2, 2020
poem 40
i can not go to the streams
but the winged ones come sing
morning on morning on morning
now a few days beyond mating
in hidden precious nests
hopes pulse within calcite stars
aligned and stacked
hard thin fragile ellipsis
wait cracking [an inside job]
tiny beaks hammer and hammer
for oxygen and light and night
stars realign in pinpoints
where angels might dance
bursting crackling thin lines
lightening thunders within
an incredulous moment
blooming shards hinge away
rapture tumbles out and rolls
a universe of hungry wet feathers
April 30, 2020
but the winged ones come sing
morning on morning on morning
now a few days beyond mating
in hidden precious nests
hopes pulse within calcite stars
aligned and stacked
hard thin fragile ellipsis
wait cracking [an inside job]
tiny beaks hammer and hammer
for oxygen and light and night
stars realign in pinpoints
where angels might dance
bursting crackling thin lines
lightening thunders within
an incredulous moment
blooming shards hinge away
rapture tumbles out and rolls
a universe of hungry wet feathers
April 30, 2020
poem 39
making black coffee Eavan Boland
toasting a biscuit Eavan Boland
spilling hot coffee while
walking in your poems
Eavan Boland died Monday
in Dublin in Dublin two maps
mother daughter wife professor
provocateur poet
You gave me the dead end roads
where lies my heritage hid in verdant
tangles and rocky highlands where
blighted potatoes rotted
where my starving slave ancestors
cut roads with no end in sight
died shovels in hands rocks
in hands left to rot where they fell
You versed our stories
gave we women place
within the Irish canon
where Heaney and Yeats
and their brothers live on
where you now dwell
April 29, 2020
toasting a biscuit Eavan Boland
spilling hot coffee while
walking in your poems
Eavan Boland died Monday
in Dublin in Dublin two maps
mother daughter wife professor
provocateur poet
You gave me the dead end roads
where lies my heritage hid in verdant
tangles and rocky highlands where
blighted potatoes rotted
where my starving slave ancestors
cut roads with no end in sight
died shovels in hands rocks
in hands left to rot where they fell
You versed our stories
gave we women place
within the Irish canon
where Heaney and Yeats
and their brothers live on
where you now dwell
April 29, 2020
Monday, April 27, 2020
poem 37
missing you you in particular
[evolving brilliant microbe shoved
a hundred mile gap indefinitely]
returning late into our siblingness
how very much twinness we share
seven years and a brother between
still an elephant patiently waits betwixt
our puzzling still math holds sanity none
and one magic zero late comer making
algebra possible alchemy of numbers
potions we drink to hold onto ratios λόγος
fibonacci spiraling gears angling arcs
geometry of love
in midst of soul jarring sickness
death’s madness steps aside as you
ever so gently lift from the rich damp
black womb and peel back hardened
bean hulls [who else would dare] so
sprouts beneath might stretch unfurl breathe
outdated seeds or not you risk love
ere all else so much so that knurls of age
release your fingers momentarily making
joints supple enough to aid birth
between zero and one lives chance
mystery defines love as unquantifiable
infinity within infinity
[evolving brilliant microbe shoved
a hundred mile gap indefinitely]
returning late into our siblingness
how very much twinness we share
seven years and a brother between
still an elephant patiently waits betwixt
our puzzling still math holds sanity none
and one magic zero late comer making
algebra possible alchemy of numbers
potions we drink to hold onto ratios λόγος
fibonacci spiraling gears angling arcs
geometry of love
in midst of soul jarring sickness
death’s madness steps aside as you
ever so gently lift from the rich damp
black womb and peel back hardened
bean hulls [who else would dare] so
sprouts beneath might stretch unfurl breathe
outdated seeds or not you risk love
ere all else so much so that knurls of age
release your fingers momentarily making
joints supple enough to aid birth
between zero and one lives chance
mystery defines love as unquantifiable
infinity within infinity
Sunday, April 26, 2020
poem 35
before sun climbs her ladder
and casts herself about
she sparks cresting oceans
and horizons arêtes go gold
her red highlights illuminate
and call out churning cobalt
she defies pretentious shade
and night white mares go out
and casts herself about
she sparks cresting oceans
and horizons arêtes go gold
her red highlights illuminate
and call out churning cobalt
she defies pretentious shade
and night white mares go out
Saturday, April 25, 2020
poem 34
wake late dull tightly conscious
reality constant slips in disrupts
startles characters at play
on my unconscious stage
who dash off into hiding fluttering
rim crumbles beneath the leaden
weight of the new neighbor’s
yellow porch lights on all night
every night as if to ward off
what drove mother and wife
to suicide mere weeks before
desperate home buying moving
in a dazed purple rush fragmented
planting of new starts hoping
spring’s gushing blush grants
green shoots push through fertile
slate ashes sodden by myriad tears
stifled violet sobs hidden away
in the silent house not yet a home
reality constant slips in disrupts
startles characters at play
on my unconscious stage
who dash off into hiding fluttering
rim crumbles beneath the leaden
weight of the new neighbor’s
yellow porch lights on all night
every night as if to ward off
what drove mother and wife
to suicide mere weeks before
desperate home buying moving
in a dazed purple rush fragmented
planting of new starts hoping
spring’s gushing blush grants
green shoots push through fertile
slate ashes sodden by myriad tears
stifled violet sobs hidden away
in the silent house not yet a home
Friday, April 24, 2020
poem 32
fire season coming
trees hug our home
i cut out dead branches
slash away tall grasses
catch poison oak while
love her shining glory
though flying specks slip
the safety mesh crowding
out spun up rock shards
invisible viral scourge
whips us and our beloved
grounds jets scrubs the sky
brings silence solitude
blessed animals freely wander
but our dreams go terribly wrong
horror greed pestilence despair
no safety mesh crowds
out spun up deadly shards
trees hug our home
i cut out dead branches
slash away tall grasses
catch poison oak while
love her shining glory
though flying specks slip
the safety mesh crowding
out spun up rock shards
invisible viral scourge
whips us and our beloved
grounds jets scrubs the sky
brings silence solitude
blessed animals freely wander
but our dreams go terribly wrong
horror greed pestilence despair
no safety mesh crowds
out spun up deadly shards
april 23
poem 31
digging mounds
rather than
making flat
planting round
pumpkins beans
climbing corn
greening gulch
holds us all
sacred bowl
rather than
making flat
planting round
pumpkins beans
climbing corn
greening gulch
holds us all
sacred bowl
april 21
poem 30
four inch brown fiber pots
hold three perennial hopes
one young green artichoke
for each dormant ensemble
children instruments excitement
locked out as am i
our band room a silent
cold dark vacant block
baton hidden away
in a brown leather case
no cellos no basses
no violas no violins soar
no sousa no gershwin no zacatecas
no brass no woodwinds no drums
rouse the town echo in the elms
the stream and birds sing without us
hold three perennial hopes
one young green artichoke
for each dormant ensemble
children instruments excitement
locked out as am i
our band room a silent
cold dark vacant block
baton hidden away
in a brown leather case
no cellos no basses
no violas no violins soar
no sousa no gershwin no zacatecas
no brass no woodwinds no drums
rouse the town echo in the elms
the stream and birds sing without us
april 20
Sunday, April 19, 2020
poem 29
this spring belongs to honey bees
i have no idea how bee decisions
coalesce and come to fruition
i only know that the maples’
shimmering magenta petals
a buzzing confluence of bumbles
and wilds and tames and Anna’s
hummers fell
and that gestating seeds now deeply
sleep above fringy vibrant sprouts
last year’s bloomy hopes come
i only know I hear the low pitched
thrumming of swarms settling in
for long months of honey making
imagine birth coming to wings
in a dappled hexagonal universe
stretching spreading damp membranes
dancing at the hive’s mouth quivering
first flight how bright the sun
how wide the bowl of blue
i have no idea how bee decisions
coalesce and come to fruition
i only know that the maples’
shimmering magenta petals
a buzzing confluence of bumbles
and wilds and tames and Anna’s
hummers fell
and that gestating seeds now deeply
sleep above fringy vibrant sprouts
last year’s bloomy hopes come
i only know I hear the low pitched
thrumming of swarms settling in
for long months of honey making
imagine birth coming to wings
in a dappled hexagonal universe
stretching spreading damp membranes
dancing at the hive’s mouth quivering
first flight how bright the sun
how wide the bowl of blue
Saturday, April 18, 2020
poem 28
Bahman Mohassess. Untitled.2010. Assemblage.
Copyright© Estate of Bahman Mohassess
Copyright© Estate of Bahman Mohassess
blind egret at the beach longs
to sniff salt air but lacks nostrils
longs to taste scurrying red crabs
she lacks a mouth she’s deaf
to the thrumming of their tiny claws
to the rustling surf somewhere beyond
measure where eggshell sands merge
with flat horizons of shifting lapis seas
she cranes her tightening neck
her gray breath creaks crackles
she only senses the wind whisking
her feathers into scuffled ivory lace
she's never known any color
other than the touch of wind
northerly blustering cobalt indigos
dreamy cerulean westerlies
southern turquoise drenching rushes
and spinning cyanic easterlies
cracked slate fills her throat
like her i with no warning stopped
by a viral slam crashing on my shores
...
with thanks to Rooja Mohassessy
for sharing the photo of her uncle,
Bahman Mohassess's art during
the 2020 Sierra Poetry Festival
Friday, April 17, 2020
poem 27
supposedly secure
carefully planned
birdfeeder hung
due diligence done
intention to thwart
lovely inventive
fluffy grey squirrels
gloriously fails
carefully planned
birdfeeder hung
due diligence done
intention to thwart
lovely inventive
fluffy grey squirrels
gloriously fails
Thursday, April 16, 2020
poem 26
set teaching down
a few hours empty
pothole on a rocky bend in a riven road
hoping
for soft rain
....
or in this form...
....
set teaching down
a few hours empty
pothole on a rocky bend in a riven road
hoping
for soft rain
....
or in this form...
....
a few hours empty
pothole on a rocky bend in a riven road
hoping
for soft rain
....
or in this form...
....
set teaching down
a few hours empty
pothole on a rocky bend in a riven road
hoping
for soft rain
....
or in this form...
....
set teaching down a few hours empty
pothole on a rocky bend in a riven road
hoping for soft rain
pothole on a rocky bend in a riven road
hoping for soft rain
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
poem 25
mixed up beans sprout in a jar
too big for a one hand grasp
lays sideways on a white tile sill
under creamy orchid blooms
protected from rolling away
by a thick broad deep green
leaf draping her orchid self
over slim pale miracles
overnight in three days
teeny emerald leaves push
sunward even after my
clumsy wet hands nearly
drop them and their universe
to shatter in the stark
enamel cast iron sink
i chipped yesterday when
the resolute dutch oven
slipped from my wet fingers
[one thoughtless act
initiates another's demise]
I rubbed the nick as if
doing so could restore
purity perfection oneness
just how I rub my icy nose
as if doing so could make
young my aging heart
this tiny chip irrefutable
like the brilliant deadly virus
reminds me be careful be
daring be grateful be loving
be grieving be fair give life
give hope make right inequalities
even if only in tiny chipped steps
too big for a one hand grasp
lays sideways on a white tile sill
under creamy orchid blooms
protected from rolling away
by a thick broad deep green
leaf draping her orchid self
over slim pale miracles
overnight in three days
teeny emerald leaves push
sunward even after my
clumsy wet hands nearly
drop them and their universe
to shatter in the stark
enamel cast iron sink
i chipped yesterday when
the resolute dutch oven
slipped from my wet fingers
[one thoughtless act
initiates another's demise]
I rubbed the nick as if
doing so could restore
purity perfection oneness
just how I rub my icy nose
as if doing so could make
young my aging heart
this tiny chip irrefutable
like the brilliant deadly virus
reminds me be careful be
daring be grateful be loving
be grieving be fair give life
give hope make right inequalities
even if only in tiny chipped steps
Monday, April 13, 2020
Poem 23
sun drenched morning
leaves shining face east
buds blooms cradle bees
even hummers sip maple
nectar feather ones sing
oaks tassels sway toss pollen
mourning doves grey tunes
sink in halts reminds
invisible ones still grip
illuminating disparities
poor rich
color white
crowded comfort
disease ease
leaves shining face east
buds blooms cradle bees
even hummers sip maple
nectar feather ones sing
oaks tassels sway toss pollen
mourning doves grey tunes
sink in halts reminds
invisible ones still grip
illuminating disparities
poor rich
color white
crowded comfort
disease ease
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Poem 22
after seventeen turns
gifted tiny maples so slender
i prayed their survival
thickening soulful trunks
branches unfurl vibrant
fill miraculous skies
bursts of miniscule magenta
host honeybees
companionably share
tender nectar mist
while vigorously singing
humming vibrates my skin
when i stand beneath bows
fluttering crimson tipped
verdant stars caress
eternity consoles
pouring peace
on dark night fears
beyond moments
beyond years
gifted tiny maples so slender
i prayed their survival
thickening soulful trunks
branches unfurl vibrant
fill miraculous skies
bursts of miniscule magenta
host honeybees
companionably share
tender nectar mist
while vigorously singing
humming vibrates my skin
when i stand beneath bows
fluttering crimson tipped
verdant stars caress
eternity consoles
pouring peace
on dark night fears
beyond moments
beyond years
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Poem 21
these crowded times too many talking spurts
do not trust hefted shoulders puffed out shirts
look to weary wisdom born living truths
racist class chains choke poor sicken die first
living obscured in polluted jammed urban pools
striving desperate essential needs denied
food shelter water soap air life
soul rigored pale bloated suits steal cheat demand scam
safe and far from frantic efforts rainbows practicing love
do not trust hefted shoulders puffed out shirts
look to weary wisdom born living truths
racist class chains choke poor sicken die first
living obscured in polluted jammed urban pools
striving desperate essential needs denied
food shelter water soap air life
soul rigored pale bloated suits steal cheat demand scam
safe and far from frantic efforts rainbows practicing love
Friday, April 10, 2020
Poem 20
opened the cupboard
wishing for solace
for something different
for lost magic
a forgotten beloved cup
has edged itself front and center
teetering now as if crashing down
from so very long ago
so delicately beautiful
so perfectly weighted
red and black
on cold white
Haida’s elder, the bear
stares at me and calls
from north and west
where spring now bursts
where i once wandered
the watery land of seals and clams
of herons and flounders and salmon
of berries and rainforests and deer
wishing for solace
for something different
for lost magic
a forgotten beloved cup
has edged itself front and center
teetering now as if crashing down
from so very long ago
so delicately beautiful
so perfectly weighted
red and black
on cold white
Haida’s elder, the bear
stares at me and calls
from north and west
where spring now bursts
where i once wandered
the watery land of seals and clams
of herons and flounders and salmon
of berries and rainforests and deer
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Ephemera 3
Been waking with this poem rumbling about when in half sleep—middle of the night, at dawn. It slips in while I teach music lessons (now online—a strange experience—making a living in this pandemic). This poem has oft appeared over the years, in remembered bits and pieces, but never daily or multiple times a day—day after day and week after week. So grateful for it, for Emily Dickinson's work overall, for waking up alive. Sharing it, because we need hope in ways none of us ever could have guessed. Sharing it not for the sake literary analysis, but for the sake of love of others.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all
And sweetest in the Gale is heard
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
Emily Dickinson
...
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all
And sweetest in the Gale is heard
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
Emily Dickinson
Poem 18
today is biscuit day
oil not butter
[saving butter for joy]
on toast on noodles on rice on biscuits
kneading as meditation
baking as prayer
eating for strength
breathing gratitude
today is biscuit day
powdered milk not milk
[saving milk for joy]
on cereal in coffee with biscuits as nightcap
opening as meditation
pouring as prayer
drinking for strength
breathing gratitude
today is biscuit day
love not withheld
[sharing love as joy]
in silence in talking in housework in isolation
smiling as mediation
patience as prayer
listening for strength
breathing gratitude
today is biscuit day
oil not butter
[saving butter for joy]
on toast on noodles on rice on biscuits
kneading as meditation
baking as prayer
eating for strength
breathing gratitude
today is biscuit day
powdered milk not milk
[saving milk for joy]
on cereal in coffee with biscuits as nightcap
opening as meditation
pouring as prayer
drinking for strength
breathing gratitude
today is biscuit day
love not withheld
[sharing love as joy]
in silence in talking in housework in isolation
smiling as mediation
patience as prayer
listening for strength
breathing gratitude
today is biscuit day
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Poem 17
two canadas
noisily careen
wildly crash
water mirror
ripples awake
glance away
two canadas
silently disappear
beneath willows
wavering bows
noisily careen
wildly crash
water mirror
ripples awake
glance away
two canadas
silently disappear
beneath willows
wavering bows
Monday, April 6, 2020
Ephemera 2
Simply Haiku,
a wonderful quarterly online journal is now archived so that poets, and
those who love short form poetry, can read many, many Japanese short
form poem genres (haiku, senryu, tanka, haibun, renku, and traditional and modern haiga), essays, and interviews.
http://simplyhaiku.com/
http://simplyhaiku.com/
Ephemera 1
less is more
—a meditation...a practice...a way of being
Emptying busyness allows a vacuum in which art might form or not.
Fall into the abyss. Awaken looking up at the distant starry sky.
Excerpt from Part 3 of W,B, Yeats' The Circus Animals' Desertion
... Now that my ladder's gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.
————
Perhaps build a ladder of bones tied with rags
—a meditation...a practice...a way of being
Emptying busyness allows a vacuum in which art might form or not.
Fall into the abyss. Awaken looking up at the distant starry sky.
Excerpt from Part 3 of W,B, Yeats' The Circus Animals' Desertion
... Now that my ladder's gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.
————
Perhaps build a ladder of bones tied with rags
Poem 14
hidden singers midst oaks
delicate tassels bloom
dream summer acorns
squirrels curling fluffs
warm enough content
with one more morning
delicate tassels bloom
dream summer acorns
squirrels curling fluffs
warm enough content
with one more morning
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Poem 13
before dawn's coldest hour
black rains drum raucous
verdant blooms burst
songbirds cheer
daylong deluge
come light ravens play
soaring winds celebrate
black rains drum raucous
verdant blooms burst
songbirds cheer
daylong deluge
come light ravens play
soaring winds celebrate
Saturday, April 4, 2020
Poem 12
four shards
obsidian on a white sill
four directions holding steady
unseeing hand casts one off
unnoticed until direction sought
years ago
pendant on a wooden sill
bear claw silver turquoise
lost in a solitary fugue
never warming my breast again
obsidian on a white sill
four directions holding steady
unseeing hand casts one off
unnoticed until direction sought
years ago
pendant on a wooden sill
bear claw silver turquoise
lost in a solitary fugue
never warming my breast again
Friday, April 3, 2020
Poem 11
old school looms red
bricks slick storm swollen
angling eyes hollow
white bound
plum and cherry blossoms
bright on black twigs
droop above dented daffodils
yellow eyes blinking
distant dusky blue mountain
dark in her ruminations
bleeds fines from the bases
of three towers piercing
Suzan gone
i miss you
the bright coppers
of your soaring words
your wild raven hair
thick as wisdom
luxuriant as love
luminous
bricks slick storm swollen
angling eyes hollow
white bound
plum and cherry blossoms
bright on black twigs
droop above dented daffodils
yellow eyes blinking
distant dusky blue mountain
dark in her ruminations
bleeds fines from the bases
of three towers piercing
Suzan gone
i miss you
the bright coppers
of your soaring words
your wild raven hair
thick as wisdom
luxuriant as love
luminous
Thursday, April 2, 2020
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
Poem 9
the cougar follows
i know this
our rigid neck hairs
uncontrollably quickening
breath heart pounding
you push close
tightly to my calf
your ears up rigid
we walk slowly
as to not wake chase
birds stop singing
no clip of doe or fawn or buck
all stand frozen
lifted noses quivering
sides dripping dew
i dare not turn to see
none of us run
knowing chase ends
in gnashing fangs
ripping claws
i know this
our rigid neck hairs
uncontrollably quickening
breath heart pounding
you push close
tightly to my calf
your ears up rigid
we walk slowly
as to not wake chase
birds stop singing
no clip of doe or fawn or buck
all stand frozen
lifted noses quivering
sides dripping dew
i dare not turn to see
none of us run
knowing chase ends
in gnashing fangs
ripping claws
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