a slow lateral drift
days go by
and then you are gone
from “Sonnet,” (a work in progress, line 12, syllable 5)
(February 2012)
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from "Sonnet," line eleven
riska relativeanalysismore a willto loseone’s lifefor a simplekiss—each of your actions parselong branching lineslike sentencesstreaming across a razor’sgrammarian edgeeach word splicedobsessively to my life—lookmy heartunfolds
—petalsfall—kneelingon this garden pathI gatherwhat’s leftlike soft fleshto my hands—slowlymy fingertiptracesthe curveof your breast—I follow what’s left herelike hounds hot on the scentbaying across a marshare these trails realor am I distractedby my own desires—so many layers to sift throughyears of fluid sandslowly swallowing with each stepall who blindly blundered into our past—he drowns in puddlesof his dreams—within his sarcophagusthis tomb of wordshe hid from the lovewhich would approach himuntil he vanished from himself
from “Sonnet,” (a work in progress, line 11, syllables 1-10)(February 2012)
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from "Sonnet," Four poems
Paranoidthrough the frozen fields wolves prowlI walk alone in the darkafraid of each breath—true to the array before useach crystalline sparkmanifests its own harmonywe must walk slowlythrough this field of firefliesto feel these darkened wingsflutter across our faces—and alonerandomlyseeminglywithoutreasonmy eyeswell upand Iweepdeeplyfor days—again a condensate forms on the glassand a fog pulsates along the back fenceone of our cats slip between the pink ladieshoping for more than our safe offeringfrom “Sonnet,” line 10, syllables 7-10) -
Three More Poems from "Sonnet"
one august daywe trudged
up the pathto the topof bread loafmountainhow do you keep going
she askedover his shoulder
he saidI think of something else—conversation’snever aboutthe topic—translationequalsmetaphora simplegeometriccongruencyto speakis metaphorto our reflectionwhatare wesaying
from “Sonnet,” (work in progress, line 10, syllables 4-6)
(February 2012) -
Five Poems from "Sonnet"
by
Echos Down the Hallshe imagines a storyfrom minutia to anotherwho spins it out again—
thus the spider drains the fly—worn from the struggleand loss of supportI once again pick upthe scraps of my lifeand start to sew—she pricks her fingerand watches the bloodform a red beadshe thinks as in a dreamof moving but can’tyet does anywayshe winks and wakesas if by a lover’s kissto a world already here—and of coursehe had heardit all beforethe stock linesfalling from lipshe longed to kissso what the wordsmeant escapedunchanged by contextfalling between themlike bricks to a wallfrom “Sonnet,” (work in progress, line 9, syllables 6-10)(February 2012) -
Storytellers
by
tendrils seek the lightvines weave throughthe trees’ branchesbirds build their nestsamong the recesseswe talk over dinnerof trivial thingsold jokes politicsrecipes and childrenfrom “Sonnet,” (work in progress, Third Quatrain, line nine, syllable 4)(January 2012) -
Sea Change
long waves
flow through medays of relative contentonly to wake into despairanother trough rolls bypushing me toward shorea piece of flotsam caught upin the eternal lunar pullfrom “Sonnet,” (work in progress, line 8, syllable 4)(January 2012) -
Two Poems, from "Sonnet"
againwe bendback toourselveschangedandunchangedmotionwithout
movementwithout timelikethe roserisingintoa budopeningintofullflowerforever—near the gardena hint of rosesedges toward mea presenceon the peripherylike a traceof laughteraftershe has leftthe roomfrom “Sonnet”, (work in progress, line six, syllables 9 and 10)(January 2012) -
social construction
by
for hourson the living room floormy children buildworlds from plasticbrickseach piecefollows anotherfor yearsour world unfoldsfrom “Sonnet,” (work in progress, second Quatrain, sixth line, eighth syllable)(January 2012) -
Navigation
by
a scar traces a lineacross his patched heartlike a dymaxion mapof the world unfoldingan unrealisticrepresentationof his lovein order to exposethe all that is not there
from “Sonnet,” (work in progress, second Quatrain, sixth line, second syllable)
(January 2012) -
Sometimes It’s Work
by
it’s cold outsideuncertainhis house safeandcalmif I makethe right concessionsif I stay on scriptI can sit near his fireand spoon feed him my soulfrom “Sonnet,” (work in progress, 2nd Quatrain, fifth line, ninth syllable)(January 2012) -
Three Poems from "Sonnet"
by
I wokethen walkedinto fogrisingfrom the nearby creekto shroud the treesand streetas ifin clothesof the deadthe bald uglinessof each day’sexchangewatchednearby—so we go onfumbling downthe trailin the darkour hands fallon rough barkand we look upbeyond the black leavessomewhereabove the treesthe moon flows quietlyunseenbehind clouds—beneath the talkI swim my pastdrowning in shallows(from “Sonnet,” a work in progress, Second Quatrain, first line, syllables 1,2 and 3)(January 2012) -
but the money was good
then there we werehomefrom our cruiseturning the knobon the oveneating wellthe wine tartand ice coldon the stereoa saxophonemoaneda smoky soloone couldhardly hearthe screamscomingfrom the neighbor’shouse(January 2012)
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