Another bright day clear and cold as the sunlight is warm— Not to be begrudge this reciprocity or any— I get giddy climbing these impossible hills fully blinded, imbued by this particular winter sun, always coming in at high unexpected angles and intervals, falling in bars or like some ornate curtain to make any scene pastoral— orderly, quiet, serene, immutable— if only for a few hours, still, more than acceptable
The promised rain has been detained the day is just still with little anticipation for such a non-event, and one that arrives so innocuously— the thinking that nothing much will change in a mild spring rain by a veil of drops but of course it will— everything is touched, the sidewalk’s sheen, the gingko’s green, the clipped walking pace of the few passerbys outside the window, distant and distant, twice removed— the rain fills the […]
A gap between gingko leaves suggests a bird— between real things impressions, for better or for worse— what makes space negative? Is it the color of the sky, what is defined, or what falls behind, and is it intentional?
Rose dawn, pepto bismol energizer bunny and funny sorts of clouds– Friday as surrealist unseasonably warm the honey sun combing the alleys between the hospitals and methadone clinics trash in the street gold imbued shards of life or skeins, more mobius-like going on and on and on
They cancelled the fireworks but no one knew the countdown proceeded and we arrived at a precipice with misplaced anticipation– a bewildered pause the cork stuck the breath retained who knew time could slip away unnoticed even as we marked it a profound underestimation our breath dissipating into the newly christened night
worse than a promise unkept is one not made only implied no lie technically it rained the evening hours slumped into night the difference between dusk and dark said and meant is gray and quiet
Moody rain all along Lake Crescent, a fresh wreck the flares like embers– last night we kept the fire going until its bitter end coaxing and coaxing a few more flames until the night consumed the beach it is immense the lowest tide the endless starless sky no clear line of demarcation just soft gray nothingness and the faintest clouds of breath to prove our existence
a blue stroke across beige paper a river cleaves two banks look at this place the contorted topographies red dirt roads like open veins and muddied waters the stars at night are big and bright where does it come from this possessiveness? to take establishes the precedent of loss so choose your hypotheticals carefully– why don’t they, if only then the golden door would open simple, easy another girl got swept away in the Rio […]
it’s a bitter root that twists deep into the dirt the dark gestalt of things unspoken and so retained rehearsed in lonely moments
was it the sparseness offset by silence or the roundness of the number eclipsing the rest days, days, the lack of antacedence how do I begin to formulate a response it’s unsettled here dry when it should be raining charged with anticipation a bee came in the open window and then left nothing happens of course I doubt your fortuity
OPTIONAL POETRY 