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Thursday, November 10, 2005 |
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Long Drive Home at Midnight after Taking an Old Friend to the Klamath Falls Train Station cautious progress south on socked-in potato basin oncoming beams five-pointed celestial in freezing fog swelled yellow halfmoon steady descending in irregular shreds of wasted storm soaring north slipping under tule veils low flat gauntlet of will-o'-the-wisp brushing over one by one climbing finally plateau's yardstick road bursting dry from mist onto barrens volcanic and ink-drenched juniper halfmoon waiting there all cold clarity and startling firmament crazed and infinite 1:39:42 PM  comment []
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Saturday, September 17, 2005 |
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I was having one of those busy days. Illustrated matters of fact were manufactured and shown around the public square. The kitchen was swept and wiped. Something new was added to the cookie dough. Toward evening things were put away. The near-full moon was glimpsed being drowned among clouds. A prayer was said. In bed I was comforted and yet afflicted to waking by worries and dreads. There was rising, and a restless descent to other rooms. There were sounds of rain dripping on roofing tin. And then the sounds were stopped, the cotton quiet a signal pointing to sleep. And there was climbing in the dark toward strange lit windows. And I looked out. And I saw! September snow like bright yard goods the moon had tossed on the hills for fit. Sheer. Tentative. I saw this. It was I who saw this. It was not a dream. 9:36:04 AM comment []
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Friday, July 29, 2005 |
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The Gift I awoke at three. Cold was poking the curtain in. Every waft uncovered a dazzle of half-moon peering in at me one-eyed. For a long while I had the softly cellophane impression of irregular footfalls in the garden--deer taking first breakfast of marigolds perhaps or coyotes come for cats. At last I turned the blanket back and walked downstairs to empty my bladder and fetch up a quilt. Coming back I paused in the stairwell, stunned by the stinging sharp descending scent of Humans. While the black sky brightened by gray degrees, I sat up wondering by electric light was this time a wakefulness meant for singing in? I decided surely yes. When I turned the lamp off then I slid instantly into sleep. 11:53:54 AM comment []
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Thursday, July 28, 2005 |
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LYRICS WANTING TUNES
I remember once when Ewan McGregor was interviewed about making a musical (Moulin Rouge) he said that some words that sound dumb when you just say them become beautiful and powerful when sung. I've decided my poems which sound so dumb to me when I read them or speak them are really songs, because when I sing them I find them beautiful. I only know the tunes I make up extemporaneously, while reading aloud. If you are music and have a tune, please let me know.
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Saturday, July 23, 2005 |
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poem X cup hands scoop earth 'wife birth in sands watch sky sense air free care spirits fly roots flayed food in fire wood on pyre making way sweet wind soothing water no matter never mind truly met across ether one together course set single thing sole in void souls alloyed minds sing 11:13:18 AM comment []
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Sunday, July 17, 2005 |
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The nights of the hottest summer days are so cold here. I clench my bones under the little blanket, and the dog and the cat seek me for sleep companion. When the first sun strikes the plywood sides of the tortoise house they crash down like walls of Jericho and the great beast stamps on horned feet out onto the rocks to take his heat. Indoors in my drab sweater I blink toward the windows, drink my tea, and resist going into the light until the gun's to my head for some brief chore. All the while I'm remembering winter and totting up firewood. 8:48:49 AM comment []
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Saturday, June 25, 2005 |
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My Greta Lethal gymnast taut- focused blur intent tortoiseshell leopard angler- off-plaster to catch the flitting Thing: Moth- of-Wings at wall at lamp Greta bats Thingshadow shade-battering globelit within now upflapping now flattening quiet. Get it get it I call and Greta seeks above around and nose-on the matte triangle against the grain: she won't see: Still Thing is Not Moth, which is Flutter and Breeze of Air arrhythmic lift and drop and struggle paper-powdery Shifting-Under-Paws. 11:40:51 AM comment []
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