Another city night, velvet
-textured, wine-hued,
here on the roof deck,
in a glass bowl
of new construction–
the sharp angles
of stilled cranes flashing
intermittent red–
and sometimes
a night is just
peaceful, I don’t know
what distinguishes it
except this soft,
late, light, the sky
that settles in
like an always
-faithful tide,
a sense
of containment,
yet kind, and spacious–
What a momentous act
to fold the shirt
and to place it
in the wardrobe
and such a long
long time
since I’ve had
such latitude
so why do I go
about thin-voiced
bird-ish asking
may I may I may I
befuddled but
like some happier Kafka
I seem to have woken
up with wings
[again thank you all for kind comments– looking forward to catching up on them shortly!]
Completely
dehisced
from known
land from
maps
and plans
past the limit
of margins
waking up
now is like being
on a boat–
Where
has the night
delivered me?
[Apologies for general lack of posting and responding to comments, in the process of moving and with variable wifi access!]
[Descant]
A strange thing,
this geometric
city living.
The night sky
is always pink here,
with residual heat—
I’ve never seen a star,
only the boxy glow
of the higher high-rise,
the landing lights
of planes swallowed up
by clouds (I assume)
no birds, no breeze,
just isolated trees
and the audible gradients
of interminable descent,
and I always wake up
tired. Selah.
Sudden blue
like a blow
who knows
from when
or where
it comes
from the
viaduct
the Bay
shines today
like a blank
page
so very full
of promise–
but how it does
get taxing,
all this hoping
and hoping,
and hoping–
Here another summer
day like any other
just like any other
and between being left
and leaving
I know which I prefer–
Unsettling wind
I wake to news of fire
on the butte
and the power gone out
and KOZI off the air
and level 3 orders
to get out now
and a pile of dead
goats at a ranch
that burned overnight
and horses run off
like open-ended questions–
Only a slight haze,
here, a tinge
of regret, chagrin,
I am far away,
too far away,
a morning like this
and I can only
pick doubt
out of a heavenly
blue sky–
By one the sky was evening-dark
by two the sky had split
and rain fell like it hasn’t
in months
and the city breathed
a sigh of relief–
and yes it’s want
that makes abundance
but love sometimes
you keep me waiting
when even a minute
is one too many
Never a direct course
so not unlike a sail
we turn up
the wind shifts
and then we must fall off
but always arrive
an evening shore
a sky open like arms
and unlike a sail
it’s such joy
to be
becalmed
A pink gray sky
no sleep dead heat
every few seconds
a car rolls down
the street like a sigh
like a slow-moving wave
and the star I thought
I saw was only a plane
and no birds sing
even though it’s more
morning than night
now I’ve watched
every single lonely hour
crumple and go on
Late morning city view
the cranes at angled rest
everything now begins with
that used to be that was
and will be
something new
strange
to know the work
it takes to see
the progress day
by day
but the act
of creation is never
not a surprise—
even while
mired in it.
OPTIONAL POETRY 