more wilderness here in a square foot than home already hotter than predicted these clouds look like a child drew them and incessant songbirds insisting it’s not summer yet that we are still arriving such a strange place this year is given in to longing at every margin still snow in the passes and this baslamroot spent
Flower moon milk moon strange weather these days which came first the sun or all this rain the gingko come back overnight it seems or maybe I’ve been away wet footings insubstantial sleep . flower moon milk moon must exert some tide some pull a dream some days can seem more real but still recedes electric green leaves convulsing in the wind thunder predicted and waiting as giving . milk moon flower moon what sort […]
At the laundermat police up the street corraled bikes like spilt jacks across Pike street mostly quiet for now the insustrial -sized drier cranks on and off gas-powered round-doored highest capacity. All day helicopters in droning flight half fly, half vulture it keeps coming back to mouths to feed, inches given and miles of streets, some feet, some footnotes, people don’t realize, you know, if you think about it, why? a quote, lamentably, and a […]
and then a silence becomes unspeakable spring rain gentle except for when it is not complacency split up by unusual intermissions damp green and watery themes the creek up the lake spilling its bounds each leaf recoiling back to how it was or wasn’t can this transition be considered status quo how a season always goes transience in object definitions always a before even these mountains and the expectation of after breaths collect in cool […]
Spring snow, heavy from the sun, as one season slides into another, jubilant, inexorable, put on a happy face and wonder where has it gone? No more sloping, no more gentleness, whatever I thought there was, was wrong and the only way out is through. Truisms and robber jays, ice in the shade. A refusal
Afternoon as threshold, precipice. Mid-week, mid-month, equipoise and the cry of a woodpecker. They say the snow’s all done, and now that it’s light later we hacked back the blueberries that won’t produce, severely, taking them down to the ground, provoking life from dormancy, or: hoping. An hour later, still, shears in hand going at spouts and suckers in the bay laurel, getting dark out, and cold, still, to bring order! An evening act, as […]
oh encapsulated day too small and every meter metered out bland formalities as measures sun in a picture but in this distant window rain the thought again that distance is not mere physics or even physical enough corporal work will teach you that quick
late morning, no snow it may have rained but is not raining presently a vacuum cleaner running somewhere, removing the evidence, making it possible to forget. Somewhere near here the tide turns away a gradual recession you have to stay and watch to see but it’s blocks and blocks away and not really ocean, more constrained bay and I recuse myself from all sorts subtlety this morning, bare streets and indifferent traffic, turn over in […]
they say snow but who really knows a word by itself doesn’t mean much joy today like small shards of glass, tulips from the valley, a busker’s hoarse song, coarse threads of sound and color, saffron in its jar closed tightly
and dreaming of artichokes realistically with fine threads and coarse skin otherwise this winter might devour me, at night looking up spreads muhammara, peppers, roasted red, Aleppo, the roughest cut of salt, cumin earthy as dirt, rude scallions, but in just the right amount, tempered, a counterpoint, what lasts? rehearsals for the inevitable, blue-blooded kale and enough lemons to drown out the world, citrus affront, oil and pith, shock, doctrine, if life gives, you make
OPTIONAL POETRY 