Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’
Haiku
three yellow maple leaves in a large brown bowl — red apple's lingering scent Passion Contents
A rank of clouds
A rank of clouds serried and clothespinned up which like a flock shocked by a sudden pop scatter in a swivet break up. Passion Contents
Before Sleep
Before sleep words titter totter under the bed, deep six in the recess. Passion Contents
Perceptions of New York
Like it or not, New York is in our ether. Many songs, plays, books, and films perpetuate the allure of New York. I recently visited Manhattan to explore its mystique and not spend too much on accommodation. Before travelling I decided it would be wise to know which of the three airports I was going to arrive at: John F. Kennedy, La Guardia, or [...]
Keeping and Letting Go
Let go of everything but the baby. Keep what needs you; the rest will keep. Let go of meaning, time, and money — keep the soft currency of sleep. Let go of jobs, hobbies and any keepsakes with an expensive shape. Let go of friends, ambitions, and worry. Keep your left hand free to wipe. Let go of music, museums, and [...]
Nature Morte
A goblet of Ruby ichor, Immortal quiet. A long-necked Jug, bedizened With golden straw. Peasant's summer plenty: Bread, terrene-tan, Green figs a-split, Vulnerable. Basket's silent meekness. Dried sea anemones, Stiff above. A pied nautilus, Fluted clamshell, Perlucent sheath. A starfish, Dessicated. [...]
A Moment
a hover of crows over mossy horizon, small against the underbelly of a skywide dove. the bay so still. hills soft as deer. beyond their chert flanks a few rufous flecks of cranberry. and always the spruce, those scepters comprising scepters, lithe in the wind, exulting, with their great green wings, beyond the [...]
Dried Herbs
she catches the moment of herbs moon-high or tide-low picks their fragrancies leaves them drying in the dark before they can blossom into streams of sunlit dust their patterns of wait droop wither crumble retaining through dormancy echoes of last year’s flower Passion [...]
The Flagellant
"... and the flagellant gathers his strength, his wounds burning, blood purging; his tiresome spirit tightening.” And he’s down to bare back, the swish, as he walks, of areca palms around his waist; on his head, the flaming swell of hibiscus on weedy greens. He’s yoked short, wooden sticks, crowned [...]
