“but little thought”
—W. Wordsworth
today as I drive past sorghum fields
on my way to work I recall
a train in the Netherlands
decades ago moving through tulip fields
long strides of red and yellow
that stepped toward the horizon
(December 8, 2020)
-
ambient fear (100)
by
on the edge of a field a rabbit
sits still as a new wind stirs her fur
with the resonant dangers nearby
thus the day’s anxieties flow
through my skin as if I were a net
tossed into the ocean’s pulse to collect
the bits of how I am defined
by everyone but me
the deeper I drop the darker it becomes
and I am too tired all the time
to watch my last breath rise
in swirling bubbles like butterflies
lifting as one from a field of flowers
(December 6, 2020)
-
high mountain lake (99)
by
“where absent-minded prophets come to drown”
—Benjamin Peret
near the water’s edge he sat
as if waiting for something
momentous to occur
although the sun shimmeredbrightly across the water
the mountain air was cold
for a moment he sensed someonewatching from the trees
he turned but nothing waited there
far away his life changedas he watched the light
dance along the water’s surface
he swam out slowlyto the middle of the lake
and sank into the dark
(December 3, 2020) -
chronic cough (98)
by
when mom died
we scattered her ashes
near the New Sweden cemetery
the chill wind swirledlike a witch’s spell
I inhaled then spat her out
today a cold wind dancesfall leaves down the street
I cough slightly then spit
(December 2, 2020)
-
you forget yourself (97)
by
“interwoven by the tragic spiders of the present”
—Ingeborg Bachman
I am not
who i was
nor who I will be
I am only
who I am
nothing
and no one
nothing more
than anyone
memory lies
laughing
like autumn leaves
feed
the ground
from which spring
emerges
knowing
only itself
-
how much self-denigration must occur (96)
by
if i gnaw out my fragile heart
canines slavering through flesh
the way wolves trapped
will desperately gnaw off
a leg to escape the hunter
will I be free with only a blood
limped trace dropped like roses
through freshly fallen snow
to mark my passage like stale crumbs
scattered across the frozen forest floor
a vaguely cogent sentence fragment
to parse a meaning into salvation
will I see in time the breach
open wide enough to squeeze
rock against chest between
tightly held breaths balanced
on a desperate fear that I have
lost the best bits of myself
(December 1, 2020)
-
Thanksgiving
by
When my mother died,
I did not get another—
one being
more than enough
for a lifetime.
(November 20, 2020)
-
parenthesis (95)
by
with an accent slightly different
than any dialect spoken here
a hole opens around us like an amoeba
and we are contained within
an other’s misinterpretation
as if we were not a part
of the conversation like a rock
is not a part of the river
which erases incrementally
shaping the rock as it surges past
oblivious like memory to the change
as each remembrance rises
to take dominion everywhere
if only for the moment it takes
to speak and then to unhear
all the patterns which brought us here
(November 19, 2020)
-
Going to Work During a Pandemic
by
The odds are I won’t;
Yet, someone will die today:
I let the bones roll.
(November 16, 2020)
-
only mine (94)
by
I cannot see much of life
beyond the ragged hedgerow
I’ve grown from broken thorns
scattered like blood
across still water
unless the walls fall
and all the little boxes
open like rain misting
the tightly trimmed
topiary with ice
and the cold parenthesis
cracks like cicadas’ wings
as i slip from myself
a worm through earth’s minutia
feeding on the remains
and fragments that were mine
(November 13, 2020)
-
an assumed direction (93)
by
this labyrinth has no end
no center in which to be eaten
no twine to trace an origin
just a blind turn toward hopea quick glance back toward despair
one cannot be lost without directionyet our angled descent is certain
I can see the sun before it setslisten to the fuss of squirrel and jay
or be consumed in worry’s fire
there is no clear path to happinesswe are always here
(November 5, 2020)
-
patience is a key to hope (92)
by
we must wait
without fear
for the end
memory’s a mirror
distorted anew
in each reflection
rippled across a dark pond
(November 4, 2020)
-
mirror mirror
by
the well offers no echo
for the truth to rise upon
to allow her to step screamingfrom the water’s cold depths
to shatter the infinite mirrorswhere we live out our lives
(November 1. 2020)
-
beaten path (90)
by
like an old dog
circling his bed
i turn then turn
the idea around
a phrase a word
a memory
until the floor’s
worn away
and i fall
a slow spiral
like a rock
bounces against
a stone wall
and steps
with a clatter
before it stops
and I wonder
as if the thought
mattered
(October 30, 2020)
-
drifting homeward (89)
dropping soft scraps of light
like rose petals on the floor
the moon threads her way
between the bare branches
purpose requires ambitionwhich the moon lacks other
than its spiral descent
toward a predestined end
where is the metaphorwho holds reins so slack
trusting the horse’s nature
to find a slow way back
(October 29, 2020)
subtext 