Tag: poem

Poem 20150619

crow

the slow insistent beating of the heart
not unlike the old man’s
in that story by poe
so loud that it could be heard
through floorboards
and walls
never mind a ribcage
and half an inch of flesh

that slow insistent beating
in my own chest
reminds me that i am alive
and that i have to go for a hike
in the morning
and shopping the next day
and work the day after that

every day the beating of the heart
ba-dum
a calendar
ba-dum
a clock
ba-dum
an hourglass that never runs the sand up
ba-dum
a waterwheel that only turns in one direction
to turn the mill
to grind my bones
to make your bread

Poem 20150616

crow

my dad used to tell me
that if you dug a hole
deep enough
you could look up
and see the stars

but he was wrong

so much of what he
had to say
what he said
or felt compelled
to pass on
was wrong

but he did give me a telescope
i held onto until my own kids
were old to look through it
and we tried to draw down the moon
white and tear-inducing
into an eyepiece
impossible to look into
without shaking
the telescope

Poem 20150615

crow

the walk is quick
clouds have rolled in
from the south
sunset’s reverse june gloom
chilling the breeze

the dog doesn’t seem
to care
and he pulls on the leash
eager to sniff
and leave his mark

halfway home, the sun
manages to find his way
out from behind a cloud
a little warmth
enough to soak through
the shirt
and into the skin
but not into the bones

the sun is a white disc
descending and nothing more
nothing oracular
no prophecies
to lean an ear toward
straining to make out
a blind girl’s words

Poem 20150614

crow

this is the house of sleeping women
the house where women sleep
here, the women sleep in this house
except for when they wake
in the middle of the night
and they have to pee
or the cat makes it impossible to
get comfortable
or time is out of joint by five hours
and the morning is dark out the window
and the clocks are all liars
or the dog is licking
and his tags jangle
or every worry rides through their minds
like a chariot driven by achilles dragging hector

this house does not do a good job
tending to the sleeping
but what house does

Poem 20150613

crow

most of the trail gave very little
in the way of wildlife

a single rabbit scurrying from
the cover of brush on one side
of the dirt track to the scrub
on the other side

why did the rabbit cross the road

no lizards, though the day was
overcast so maybe that’s way
and no roadrunners this time
darting through the low, dry plants

but then! the lake
low though it was
there was water enough for a
handful of sandpipers digging
in the mud

and the king of the small domain
the blue heron
too far to get a good picture
but so close in the lenses of
the binoculars

dipping into the shallow water
and rising up
a flash of silver in his beak
quickly swallowed
and then back to staring intently
in the muddy water
the reflection of hills
under his feet

Poem 20150611

crow

iced decaf americano

because no one makes
a regular cup of decaf coffee
not even in a coffee shop
not even in a shop
where the tables are tiny
and there are few seats

but the americano
tastes good
reminds me of real coffee
and it’s cold

even though the sky
is the color and texture of
soft lead weights
the ice is welcome

Poem 20150610

crow

maybe it’s the way i’m sitting
at work

i think

trying to rationalize away
the throbbing pain
in the back of my neck
the front of my head

it’s certainly not stress
since there’s little be stressed out
about
at work or home
and right now
(knock on wood–hear me, o
forest spirit, o dryad, dweller
bark and wood pulp)

or it could be
my obsessive checking of
the phone

or my sinuses
–my sini?–
but how does that account
for the neck

and what i want
is a cool dark room
and quiet
and maybe some music
but low enough
to think it’s the neighbors
playing something i like