Category: poems

  • Sorcery

    Certain laws – like, say, those of spellcraft – cannot be told. Always an erring is in the telling listening will not remedy. Nor more words undo. Some have tied the instruction to song; but even then too much clothing of talk contrives and conceals spell’s broken, immediate urgence. There are, then, no recipes to […]

  • Check-Out

    under the flat- felled seam of clouds we gauged the cross-wall by a whisper and considered whether to wait in bed for the sun to burn off what was said

  • Interstate

    above the clamor of overdrive we cussed each other and turned aside as cornstalks stroboscoped at seventy-five and clouds divided back from forth

  • Manner

    she knits a flat wick and waits quilts the quarter-bed and mends her distress with a needle and thread squares a rip in the hem of her dress as the old song ends with a grin                         when the farmers turned to miners                         their women turned to men

  • Selah (for Lisa Fishman)

    PSALTER first second third fourth fifth sixth seventh eighth ninth tenth eleventh twelfth thirteenth fourteenth fifteenth sixteenth seventeenth eighteenth nineteenth twentieth twenty first SELAH twenty second paper comb tattoo apostrophe plural & fewer than orchard oriole orchard oriole furrow furrow rows & hands collapse sisterly quince & Douglas fir currant throated clover fold & suddenly […]

  • Phenology Notes (for Blue Dress Park)

    29:ix:2013 11:30 AM perforated elm lily ellipsis imperfect cultivars punctuated vine 9:xi:2013 8:36 AM yellow locust leaves hanging on the rug 9:xi:2013 1:43 PM a third landscape                         dark-eyed juncos                                     slate-colored dark-eyed juncos                         a third landscape                                     slate-colored dark-eyed juncos                         slate-colored                                     a third landscape 13:xi:2013 2:00 PM block by block yellow gingko leaves blanket the sidewalk 16:xi:2013 […]

  • Twenty-Third Amantia Ode: New Tatters

    The great spastic glass of the sun in winter’s going glare. :: Wind’s antic helicoid winding upward through the tree. Agitations. A web’s sinews’ yellow radiance. :: Circles of wind rapture the young hawk flashes through. A robin’s nest she stops to plunder. :: Easter moon that blooms above a reef of cream. Vernal silver […]

  • Smooth Delegate

    Clocks the thinking left me                grass and traffic ready at the lip, wrist burn from long rests on laptops, all’s pocketed and ambient bent shaded multiples of screen- saver aubades                                 with rhythm as parallax, heart + lung the unworked license of a door         shutting by itself

  • Resurrect

    Now you live in your own sentence. A city of ladders. A speech leans towards the shape of thinking, and the tight part of any mind bridges truth in three voices : light chattering, mixed up and breached by the sound of its story. By the lamp that must take up such space. One lie […]