threat or gift

threat or gift

 

 

 

a network within–

 

insect under

leaf roof

 

vine house, narrow

night,

 

hard wings, held closed

to not now the time

 

now none

 

there is plant

pulse,

 

earth

breath,

 

sense-waves of threat,

or gift

 

 

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index iv.

index iv.

 

relationship of two

vanishing points when a person looks

directly toward the center of a room

 

location and characters

converge

 

when two persons look directly

toward the center of a room

may be unified in scale

and hour

 

but not to endure, a location

where imitable habits of grandparents

that to live, are no longer

 

the new picture requires

rearrangement of vanishing points

minus a referent

 

requires a diet

of the next

favorite show

of salt, newsprint,

apple juice, a slice of Wonder

 

time passes quickly, for an eternity

 

on its side, a shelter can be decorated

with bricks for furniture, inside, strings for a guitar,

a table with removable segments,

a partial collection of puzzles and card games

 

layers of carpet and red brick,

formica, hand sewn fabrics,

wires behind drywall, and a roof

joins the house

to the sky

 

the area outside the frame

viewed with the so-called corner of the eye,

as an entity in itself

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

index iii.

index iii.

 

high mountain lake

more air

than earth

 

at surface, bright edges

 

continual rhythm

 

stand still, adjust

the rhythm

 

 

in elevated states

 

interfere

 

dark matter

is not dark,

 

is

invisible

 

window to invisible

depth

 

sky inverse

 

a dream where weightless

matter trickles

through cupped hands

index ii.

index ii.

 

weighted clouds

intersect morning

 

the will

weights them

 

abrupt relation

between earth’s

machine-hum

and the willpower

contained in a house

 

the day continues

to root

 

a corrugated

metal sheet

functions as barrier

and mirror between

houses

 

at the edge of

property

 

the neighbor’s

pallet collection

tidy and tethered

 

infinite layers

of projects and insects

 

all possible projects

dream in the sun

at this new hour

 

an infinite wellspring

of property and projects

of metal mirror walls

of pallets, weeds and chickens

of neighbors with projects

 

a pile of car parts

a metal container

“this end up”

 

whether to believe—an old house

accumulates debris

 

walls form voices

finger prints

cloud weight

 

to believe

 

the attractive substance

of a house

 

 

 

index i.

index i.

 

to lay claim

 

 

one thousand entrance points

to the honeycombed wood

upright, in the sand, now

that the green rind

has died

 

 

 

a hallowed question—

what keeps us here?

flat roots

 

 

build a fence to mitigate

extreme area

 

 

even one millimeter of movement

the sand grains

 

over time, the foothold

undermined

 

 

*

 

through latillas–

face to the gap

air pushes through

vigor

of a secret

 

 

the barrier eternal

with an open place

 

remember this

 

 

 

*

stereoscopic

sand

sage

barbed

wire

 

a new house, empty

a dry willow

North

 

(it was days ago, I think—

 

five coyotes

purposeful,

paranoid

 

 

 

*

 

we may take our relationships

too seriously—

 

a jet flies overhead,

mundane,

detached, landless.

 

 

a whirling

whirligig,

air through the honeycomb,

 

or voices,

of thousands

who were here and wait.

 

 

 

*

cholla remnant

pulled from a trail

at high elevation, black

and wet with snow.

 

bones’ latent vigor–

decoration, an oddity

 

 

 

 

Note: latillas—are what we call fencing which are cut from young trees, here in New Mexico, with the bark left on the pole. They provide a textured fence line with an uneven skyline.They are all different heights and not perfectly straight. But, they are truly enjoyable to poets and New Mexicans.

A cholla is an upright, narrow cactus that grows throughout New Mexico and produces beautiful waxy flowers (cacti throw forth waxy, bright yellow or fuscia flowers). When the cholla cactus dessicates, the remaining material is woody, and hollow, with a honeycombed pattern.

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Public Domain Review

Creative Life through Poetry, Philosophy, Art, and Literature

Muddling Through My Middle Age

Definitely older, possibly wiser....

Sketching :: Drawing from Observation

Painting to See :: Peindre pour voir

Bluebird Blvd.

Because bluebirds are so darned happy. Supposedly.