an abrupt loss of velocity
and what is the weather
and where is today
the durable patterned fabric
of seat 27c repeats like a mantra
here is here is
here
inevitably
a portable construct
and soft cool rain
June 4
this month sheds days like scales
and another thing breaks
under cornflower skies
another method of conveyence
the express bus
the phonecall kept dropping
and here I read
another poem about furniture
coincidence
but the eye lingers
how to assemble a self
repair or spring for something newer
June 3
Flying above the sunset
back rows empty
a common short flight
another Embraer jet probably in our wake
ice crystals in the window
double-paned, triple?
hard to see so hard
to say
a reluctant goodbye:
a begrudging send off
and/or unwilling partee
what to make of hesitancy?
land masses appear below the cloud deck
abstract city
open to interpretation
another stern face unmoved by spectacle
May 28
First seen from afar
bas relief of steel
the edges of Manhattan
and proof that it does end
and one hot train from Newark
is how it begins
a car on its rails
a needle in its groove
a burst of static
and the track starts to play
May 20
that inexorable pull
the waterfall splitting
into a hundred separate streams
rivers in the air
full coursing
but bankless
even in fear
there is boundlessness here
mist and rain caught
in indeterminate webs
and spiders dead center
if there is mystery
we carried it in
water runs to the lowest point
May 18
A crisp evening
the pasta perfectly al dente
light clinging to the sky
like legs of wine
finally quiet
caesura–
and no one claps
through the pause–
everything in harmony
except that door, ajar
May 16
All day today half
-heard noises, like
a baby mobile, or was that
a cat? Don’t you hear
the thing, calling?
Or am I too attuned
to the periphery,
lines of demarcation,
too glib the response,
quick as a field of grass
in spring,
Whitman said tongues,
no, blades–
but I’m not green,
can count the seconds
before a thunder clap,
and if I were to really ask–
easier to shut
the cold thing out,
to not observe it hatch,
wait for some later day, it’s only May, and this night is so otherwise tender
April 30
You said it’s still winter,
ice sheets around Greenland,
while flying, up above it all,
hermetically sealed,
observing, removed,
the ice withdrawing,
the ocean stretching
to fill a void,
although from altitude
it wouldn’t seem
to be moving at all,
there are subtle things
you miss from austere
heights, giving up
detail for the largest
panorama, further out, still,
with no more borders,
strange landforms falling
under the very edge
of the day,
abstract clouds
and their rorschach shadows,
all still and silent as you
keep moving away.
April 29
My heart is over by the budbreak
far far over
in true sun and night
no passivity of rain
it falls unequivocally
as the light comes down in bars
full chords of golden rays
and the shadows palpable.
My heart is just one cautious note
a finch at the field’s edge
singing it is so very late
and yet still early
a frost would be the end
irrevocably
but the leaves unfurl like tiny sails
there is no other now
April 9
Sun today like honey
like salve
and that breeze
coming off the lake–
crisp bridges
linear and visible
in fullest color
not simply more light
this clarity–
winter has
its own perspective–
a twist of mirrors
and new glass
shifts into focus
a few repurposed shards
illusions of infinity
and then there is this sky
OPTIONAL POETRY 