Category: Poetry
-
Treefall, King’s Canyon, CA, Sep ’19
Treefall came duskly, and with it, adjustment like The reading of a will. Nature deeded the grasses prerogative, And pioneer mosses gathered upon one flank, there to sow in fallow flesh. The waters of allocation flowed to increasing size, by their love inviting the beetles An examination, and boring, then the quails who found gaps…
-
Mockingbirds, Home, Apr ’20
Make of me a new man in your image, mockingbird. I swear Fidelity to your cause, constancy in ideology. I want to trill The Babel tongues and hear your new stories. Where did you say I could find your mother, and hers? Chart me a course, And my own southwestern discovery I will defy, You…
-
The Book of Disquiet, after Plath, Home, Apr ’20
I am here now, sixscore pages of gobbledygook that a languorous Aristocrat of Lisbon spat up goutily. Cheery scholastikoi All of a type rescued my mewling corpus, reaffixed a spine And deeded me even a face, the kind chaps. So lay I here upon my softwood rock, stealing glances, Letting the day’s percussive drawer-pulls Lullay…
-
Untucked, Home, Apr ’20
The pocket my feet came to rest within Is no longer with us, I probe, Cul artlessly ripped from sac. Now my toes obtain cooler air, Abseiling with unimpeachable trust in their belays. Now I reshoulder this gleaner’s bag and keep picking, Fearful of the fall. The blanket, so carefully lain to start the night,…
-
Crater Lake, OR, Dec ’19
As to vector fields and iron filings rustle The breeze-propell’d wavelets, uncountable Upon this body so expansive. Perhaps You could palpate the troubled surface as Though it were the leaves of a mille-feuille Unsheaved like a dealer’s cards. Take a step, And ponder containing so much, Extending your consciousness in long fingers To this face,…
-
Expulsion, Jan ’20
I spit an Antarctic blubber, And bubbles, which I take as penguins, Slide down the sides of the sink To join the flows of LA’s sewers. I am not one of Carlos’ men, but can Command the image before me of A fearful Jesuit in his own morning routine. Matins concluded, face washed, he will…
-
Poem on Malibu Beach, CA, March ’20
What is it to look upon a sunset? Is it to discern among the brilliance of color (Were the word alone sufficient) Its constituent components, and thus to gain some insight As to the nature of things? Is it instead to gaze into the world reflected, The whorling hills which goodly Hermes on his way…
-
Poem on the Path in Westport, CT, Aug ’19
Scrape, sibyl, down from the trees their bark And with that fashion for me a new axe handle For my own was rent in the capture of your pig.
22 / 7 