Naomi, my cat,
stares vacantly into space;
she’s old, like me.
(August 17, 2019)
Transcendent Presence
Category: meditation
Light Erases Shadow
The sun sits still, yet moves
perpetually to a new horizon,
a new dawn; this world
moves with us, always here.
Inevitably, moment to moment,
color extracts from shadow,
as morning, refuses definition,
and pushes back night’s advances.
A prismatic god unfolds
around us as you speak; words
divide to nuance and variant,
until blinded, we turn away.
Too much light erases shadow;
we’re defined by what we are not.
(August 4, 2019)
Exposure
Another layer’s stripped
away, as through attrition,
until the grain of my skin
bleeds through, a botched tattoo.
Randomly, I pick a book
off the shelf and read notes
from decades ago I left
in the margins, and wonder:
who was I then to write
myself into a text so poorly;
while knowing, I am
no different now.
I am nude on a stair,
descending into myself.
Hidden in the Calligraphy
Yielding more
than simple correspondences,
or letters marked in a ledger,
words bend fields
through which we see
distortions and clarities
reflected like sunlight
in a waterfall’s spume.
they reveal and cloak
certainties in our unease
with what we should believe
as true, and what we know
to be a lie as we speak.
(July 29, 2019)
Arithmetic Progression
Here,
Now:
my day,
my days,
my lost ways–
once again
drag me along
singing some song,
as if I can change
the world with a word;
as if I can compete
with the comfort of god:
knowing what will happen next,
knowing why I’m here at all.
(July 25, 2019)
Before Completion
from “Rendition of Change,” a work in progress
The old tortoise-shell cat slips
cautiously through the grass
as the storm approaches.
This-too-shall-pass provides
small comfort in the moment’s
chaos and fear. Lightning strikes
often and nearby. As rain
starts to fall, the cat watches,
motionless, from the stair.
(July 3, 2019)
Preponderance of the Small
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
At nine I wrote a poem
to a girl in my class — a love poem.
Today fifty years later,
I still write poetry.
Like a small bird flits
between branches, poetry
and love intertwine through
my life giving shape and succor
to even the quietest moment.
(June 30, 2019)
