Maybe the first
take of a place
is the most correct one
the sweet relief of green
a shock of it!
under open blue skies
elaborately
scalloped clouds
nosy chickens
familiar rivers
what a long
long long winter
it had been
the air
no lighter
than it was
across the channel
but I was
immeasurably so
happy even
(2)
Wan sunrise
on the frills
of fledgling
pea vines
a red hue
betrays these
sprouts as beets
and here
the dumb exuberance
of the radishes
yes I have
grown cold
please accept
these as my excuse
Herald to a gaudy spring
the potted Narcissus
outside the door
sprouts from a pool
of standing water
strange how a myth
persists
but nothing
truly self-absorbed
would share
so freely
unattributably
and intangibly
its scent
so maybe
that’s the Hyacinth
these flowery Greeks
easy to confuse
all springing up
from the blood
of gods
and lovers
He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
.
Beware the ides of march
a blunt bit of soothsaying
still vague as rain
but more than most
of us get–
.
a proper rain today
the lawn waterlogged
sober and calm
sometimes
I underestimate the gray
and its singular
inward focus
.
the flute-like call
of some bird
falls through
an open window
almost cold enough out
to warrant shutting it
but the keen
throaty aria
gives me pause
.
nothing moves
besides the rain
drops triggering branches
beading on the eaves
a natural caesura
it would be a mistake
to play through it
.
but then again
and for what little
they are worth
the only presentiments
we listen to
tend to be our own
A leave-taking
still
I’ll see
these yellow doors
again but it won’t
be this me
hardly a loss
so why
this longing
for lasting?
.
All the seeds
we planted
are coming up
distinctive
seed leaves
true to type
and rain
this weekend–
progress
as planned
.
Is this the way
it goes for blossoms
that fall off
of nascent fruits
false starts
that only thought
they were
the thing
.
Or is this just
more structure
xylem and phloem
just how much
preparation
is required
before something
can happen?
.
Oh harbingers
are tricky–
to know
but not know what
.
and much more
so now
with such a wilted faith
in when
Some things aren’t as they seem
this isn’t snow
it’s petals from the tree
see you can still smell
the perfume sharply tinged
at the end with life
and green vigor not wholly
sweet not artificial
a welcome change
now spending days in rooms
that breathe for you and bleed
for you if you lack
the volition rooms full
of the gone involuntarily
and also voluntarily
even those we drag back
and to what–
here the sun breaks
through the picture
window the sun grinds along
in its predetermined arc
above the street where the cherries
have bloomed early
some med students pass
saying how strange
that you can’t see
the mountain today
the vent triggers
a breath and breathes
the breath and waits a beat
no one exhales here
the air just slips
out of slack mouths
into the greater room air
after an exchange of gas
at the cellular level
so much of life is unknowable
unthinkable still
glaring in its absence
the pause——puff pause
——puff whisper of the vent
can’t even begin to fill
the dead silence in fact
it seems to make it worse
Softly we sang all the songs
we knew about rain
hymns to the early evening
set in a spacious house
not mine
.
The cat wanted in
the cat wanted
out the open door
let in a chill
that felt
like a reprieve
.
Such watery views
a wash of panes
the mountains
pouring in
to lakes or
lakes cresting up
in to peaks
.
Again what
is waiting just
beyond is kindness–
a hard edge
melts
in a crucible
.
What’s left
is love
again always
limitless
as the rain
.
And softness
is strength
it gives
by taking
and taking
and taking
A rainbow of spine boards
lean against the wall
like surfboards
the pre-dawn rosy
past where the ambulances
drop off
somewhere in that fog
out there is a harbor
no beaches though
it seems we’re
on the edge
of something here
the set of red beacons
that encircle the heliport
promise both safety
and danger
welcome
but stay back
Doubt just like
a swallowed stone
doubt just like
a slip on ice
that gulp of a moment
that sip of knowing
that absolutely anything
is possible
and the improbable
is hardly
exclusively
good
Along the interstate
just more flat towns
pinned in place
by overtly-worded
billboards
then nothing
and the cows
that live there
.
this landscape
is too verbose
for a country idyll–
come here
for salvation
or call this lawyer–
.
grim gun-metal birds
hawks peregrines
ghost over the lanes
using us as cover
life always finding a way
to take another
.
a new town
appears now
no it’s no different
than the last
OPTIONAL POETRY 