from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (16)
in fog
a hiss
scratches
the skin
(January 23, 2020)
-
quandary
“sadness of those unschooled in the bottles’ gloom”
–Rene Char, Poets
Tonight, I hold my shape
tenuously, like a rabbit,
tense, on the edge
of a field: hold tight
in silence, or flee
into the brush?
(January 22, 2020)
-
the floating world
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (15)
from the upstairs window
the grey cat waits
and watches shadows
shift like dark flowers
dance in morning light
(January 21, 2020)
-
amorphous
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (14)
forgetting the pattern of fear
and doubt tangled about me
I fall out of sleep and remember
what parts of myself I need
–
to continue some resemblance
of the day the inessential shades
my ghosts as darkly as the essential
each shifts its position evasively
–
when questioned like a cat
slips through shadow and grass
(January 21, 2020)
-
the future was a threat
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (13)
in school we were always on the move
field trips to museums to math class
with Mr. Buesing to middle school
to high school to college the future
was a threat brandished like a whip
–
by degrees our world turned
then it stopped and I stumbled
and found myself here in the mud
like a body dropped from the door
of a passing car
(January 18, 2020)
-
math’s clarity
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (12)
I drive an hour to work
each day then back
–
ten hours each week
too fast too far
–
crossing the river
fog hangs in the air
(January 17, 2020)
-
Squirrel
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (11)
she skitters part way
into the empty street
stops stutter steps
grasps the road
trying not to fall off
then leaps back
unsure what’s next
*
I rarely know
finding myself
now as if
it made sense
yet knowing I’m wrong
*
I turn
without reason
as a car
crushes past
(January 16, 2020)
-
Happiness
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (10)
we fear
what we most
desire
(January 14, 2020)
-
no words are lost or found
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (9)
silence creates the context
for what’s said
caught up in desires
he listened casually
only hearing
what he heard
she spoke thinking
her voice was clear
easily understood
along her margins
(January 13, 2020)
-
with options of desire and defeat
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (8)
I don’t want
to be a salmon struggling
upstream to spawn and die
exhausted and decayed
nor
to be swept downstream
with broken branches and silt
into a churning sea
I want to be
a catfish
calm and content
deep within a silent pool
(January 12, 2020)
-
not all is water
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (7)
as the creek flows past quick
minnows mouth my fingers
(January 7, 2020)
-
muse
by
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (6)
distracted
a whispered kiss
slips past
(January 8, 2020)
-
no siren’s song
by
from “process, not a journey” a work in process (5)
always the fear waits
along the edge
of the trees
the casual phrase
the unsheathed knife
it waits
for you will come
unbidden
(January 7, 2020)
-
metaphor’s logic is like you know
by
from an untitled serial poem (4)
yet you know
we are alone
together
only in our common
solitude
I assume you are
like me a simile
if you will
like
an understandable analogy
a cat is to a dog
as a rabbit is
to a stellar singularity
I fear the wind
in my fur
is a tell a fox is near
a trap is set to drop
I am aware
because somewhere
some other thought
and told some other
who eventually
inscribed the pattern
along a random strand
like now
(January 6, 2020)
-
the illusion of narrative fragments
from an untitled serial poem (3)
and nothing specific is ever learned
it’s more a pervasive atmosphere
an inescapable context which traps
us in a web woven and rewoven
moment by moment knitted from our flesh
and residue left from this dark frenzy
*
daily we fall deeper into the tale
yet there is no white rabbit to follow
only desire to ride us like harpies
the news the neighbors our friends all screaming
into a discontent none can escape
nor explain enough to be forgiven
*
as if there could be a strong enough god
to save us from our own stupidity
(January 5, 2020)
subtext 