Category: Poem
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Moon slides down
Moon slides down the sky as if drunk against the wall knees giving way blink and she has slipped below the wires one by one the treetops the rooftops this is the speed of our spinning earth __________
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Snow Globe
The changes that can take place between the first and final versions of a poem astound me. Sometimes in my poetry journals I am lucky to find both preserved. Here are two approaches from 2010 to a snow-filled morning: haiku, version 2; and the original poem, version 1. It was…
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Match girl
There’s the polished moon again hanging in its velvet sky, and the stars in party clothes– every sunset’s a new occasion to haul out the jewels. The night’s a rich affair invitation only and I linger on the sidewalk like a match girl skirting the houses of the wealthy with…
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Another day
Another day with the sun in the sky, and the earth turning round it Light easing through the slatted blinds Neighbours’ voices floating in Cars slipping by Purple bendy straw in my glass, shifting in the fan’s air The world cannot be any other way My bedroom, sanctuary Of old,…
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For that next bright dawn
The geese, all week, have been flying. Home. Away from this sharp promise of snow cutting through crisply darkening skies south, to the crucible of summer. Their far-carrying call slicing through the high, cold air picks up our hearts by the scruff and deposits them, safe but shaken and absurdly…
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After writing
I soap the dishes, shake the sheets, smile, talk, work, kiss. But my heart is pulsing and my breath is caught: I travelled to a distant land and spare bare thoughts for home. ________________________________
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Those tenacious tendrils
Squash plants: how the tendrils cling fiercely to the nearest thing persistently insinuating yet with the merest touch. Climbing up the chain link fence their daintiness is all pretense the weight they hold – it makes no sense! They’re strong as Jean Valjean. Melons, gourds, meaty orange Hubbards will soon…
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Mabelline the dancing queen
was real sweet, she didn’t mean to make a mess, but when she saw the earth, she couldn’t stop her paw from digging down and shovelling up mountains of the rich, wet stuff until the plant sagged toward the ground and silt and soil piled all around. Then, with her…
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When Hazel was a kitten, she
would climb the drapes, wanting to see what life looked like from up above. It wasn’t mischief, it was love! of exploration and adventure. And folks, here’s where I should mention: Haze was born into a barn, where climbing things could do no harm and walking on the rafters was…
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