Category Archives: Poetry

breathe

 

on the southside

of the road,

butterflies breed

 

risk whether,

or not

 

parallel to breathing

 

the same force

within the mountain

pushes out a wild

flower

 

molecules glide

around one another

 

an indistinct breeze

 

ribs expand

 

the moment

is an open figure

that repeats

 

(a horse tosses its head,

kicks into the air,

the thread continues

to unwind

 

 

 

certainty

certainty

 

temperature outside

neutral to the touch

 

undercurrents

lose subtlety

to the season when wind

exposes each grain of sand

 

*

away from an incident

trauma

nests in the body

now the arbiter

 

truth be told

 

if only

 

other windows

 

*

 

wish you would say something.

 

alone, city street

 

*

before dawn,

 

hot air balloons

drift

 

upriver

 

 

freed from the map

 

 

 

 

Locus

Locus

 

early

dawn light at ease

in the bedrock

 

the conjunction

very little sleep

 

(pressure

 

 

night and language,

a symbol disappeared into

liquid depths,

neck broke

 

now ankle-deep, walks

from the flooded field

 

 

*

 

the length of a bird’s

claw

 

numbers become

irrelevant

 

infinite

intersecting

planes

 

in the old tree

 

 

*

 

grey wooden fence

two Canada geese

wire and brick through peeled stucco

yellow weed in the sidewalk

storm-sky through wires

no sign

 

*

 

news of a murder

on tv—

invisible forces.

 

Within a constellation,

imperceptible movement.

 

An alarm

vibrates.

 

*

The vertebral body

persists

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Words or bones

Words or bones

 

all answers dream

undivided

 

and still,

only a fragment blue

of the sky

is possible

in each moment

 

in the hand,

a portion of time

for this pursuit—

 

to give,

dig deep,

 

give marrow,

 

give hunger’s

blueprint

 

give space between words

that make words

 

is this

enough?

 

The hand

punctuates deep

enough to shape

nourish

ment

 

latent

with the code for sweetness,

or sharp, bitter and

pulled from a deeper

source

 

When moved.

When moved.

 

Telepath–

a storm travels

toward, and through.

 

Bright spring green

travels inward.

 

Atropoeic—

ritual persistence.

 

Children’s socks

clipped to the line

through a third

downpour.

 

 

What’s the matter?

 

 

Big, round drops

to walk between.

To find a figure

just out of reach.

 

 

Radial

climate

zone

 

to carry memory

outside the body.

 

 

 

 

not even a town

not even a town

 

mud-black knees,

tunnel through hours—

 

but they were silent.

 

in-fluent veins of grass

 

conversation in threads,

the hours

 

at the ends or beginnings

of threads

 

an entire sky

 

web of threads

 

to get a sweater from the house

 

thereafter, the test

of an equine confidante

 

black plum relevant to time

and space

 

water in the foot print

 

water in the gopher hole

 

rain-wet birth of the spring creatures

balled, or translucent, wedged

in the soil

 

the red flag is up

on the mailbox

 

tires

hiss on the road

 

an unseen person

humming into a task

 

a generational field

yields a warning sign

 

an analogue feline

fades into memory