Everything defined by space, in gestalt, they say figure -ground reversal, emphasizing that negative space, sometimes a new image pops out, at the loss of the original– seeing it another way it cannot be re-seen . here the gingko indifferent sky glimpsed through scaffolding at angles, is it contained, constrained? somehow the mind says no . but what does the mind know? a morning breeze tinged with the sea lifts all hopes but sometimes morning […]
Rain starting to come in the open window the day says get to the point and July as a whole– I don’t know, it is somehow insubmersible . a stream of ragged people go by with unclear words but that tone is unmistakable . water beads up on the glass, imperfect, but linear– . and so, this month goes on
colder this side of the pass rain and the threat of rain, almost worse i think for being imagined, and you couldn’t imagine the things i can think in the vastness of a room
This looks like a great project for August Off to find some postcards…
A cool cloudy morning, leniency after the weekend’s heat. A dog throws itself down the ravine in pursuit of a ball, the neighbor unleashes a cascade of glass bottles getting ready to pack up the house. All day in the mountains yesterday, sweat, scree, snow. Aching today, a reminder, the summit hard-earned, but elation tempering the bite of elevation, and descent always less benign than we thought.
Morning, overcast, insistent doves. A bright gray, an unsettled wind saying soon this will all blow over. The lake houses all full this weekend, bits of chatter from other porches, I mean, it is what it is— or nearer to home the silent neighbor, surveying his swaying grape vines . Our grapes are dusky-hued, small beads, the birds aren’t even interested yet, the basil deep green and starting to bolt– expectations a difficult thing. Still, the pepper […]
Still light as day this late the urge to linger is compelling a cesura and June gives way like a sandbank I should pack it’s not even that hot but these days there is a muggy weight to motivation why change these hours are made to sit and make plans to pin the days in place tomorrow is a new day but it isn’t here yet
A bowl of limes in Mexican pewter its lines drew me at the thrift store coarse engravings a primordial river and lighter than it looks . A lime tree does better in drought than in abundance deprivation at its sour heart although with so much juice it’s tempting to say sweetness of course it isn’t but is also not bitter the childlike green belies the nuance . It is a promise in a way to […]
Cool breeze riling the curtains the green seclusion of a melon summer is a visitor more than anything else evasive as that dream right upon waking, cut as it was ripening . In the yard we drank a thin tempranillo a dragonfly hung by with mirage wings and rhubarb stalks wilted in omnipotent heat no silence is alike varietals and temperaments and these the hands of a graceless vinter . Still light late warm skin […]
A hematoma where the shot went in, sore arms and clouds– that kind of aching morning that passes too quickly into day, piebald sky, the palest blue, a tepid invitation. And down to the waterfront the sound of progress, or of progression, metal frames sprouting up, or expulsed from the earth– a shower of sparks by the welder’s elbow, a joint, a joint is where you feel it first, a change in the weather, a […]
OPTIONAL POETRY 