Category: photography
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Shavasana at noon Feel the golden light, he said and I felt it, spilling over me golden as sunlight through the honeybear on the kitchen windowsill on a bright October morning You are held, he said. Let yourself go. I let go— sink into the waiting arms of my mother, who sinks into warm earth…
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I have been eating poetry Wildly gorging on it, like it was chocolate, and you know— I cannot keep candy in the house. I’d be fat as a tick, as Mama used to…
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Rivers There’s a river in my November sky— a river of fathomless blue sweeping between ice-crusted snowdrift clouds floating high over bare-armed trees and bare-armed people. My teeth crunch an apple my feet crunch leaves as Monday’s snow melts into tiny sidewalk rivelets. A boy zigzags the lawn hunting acorns he trades for tired smiles…
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Why wait? Why wait for inspiration to appear, surging onto your page like a whitecap gliding over the sand salty, foaming with words Why wait, when outside the wind sings naked trees wave their long arms, even their sturdy trunks sway, drunken Why wait, when the clouds above skate across the cold sky like children…
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Aftermath I feel like a river so full I might overflow my banks for years, so dry, now I am water, falling— falling like the ginkgo leaves, that lie scattered like footprints on the sidewalk, so rain-slicker yellow, they are wet, oh I had such a fever, once I was empty as an old Halloween…
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the start of a poem: driving home from Indiana sunset blazing an orange goodbye contrails crisscrossing the deepening sky speeding through billows of dust from the seed corn being processed by harvesters crawling the darkening fields Pendleton, Eden, Maxwell, tiny towns brick houses, bonfires blazing in…
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Vibrations I read today that four hundred forty beats per second equals the note called “A” I thought of you, of resonance, of tiny ear bones trembling with words of the resounding delight of being heard How the word ‘vibrant’ rings like a bell of poured molten bronze, cast cast like a spell, pure magic…
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My poor feet cannot stop bewitched, like in a fairytale, cursed: they cannot stop, so I walk and walk and walk as if my head is no longer in charge as if my heart might burst from beating and beating and beating This golden hour: cresting the hill breathing molten light and air electric between…
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Awash in gold, in crimson, lost October whispers my name — softly sings it, sleepily dreams it Alas, winter spins her frosty lace warm-cool shivers feather my spine— amber-frozen forever Our sighs paisley the morning air now October slips, pink-cheeked. Slides headlong through slick leaves: damp, brown— fallen, down
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Tell me a story You say, and I begin again. The beginning, always my favorite part sweet on my tongue, fleeting But I am ever hopeful digging now for middles and ends that are deeper and darker And boiling with life, like the depths of a sea where lampreys sway like seaweed, and dance In…
eeo 