Tag: poem

Poem 20150608

crow

there’s something disturbing about
seeing the inside of a computer

or tablet after the shattered glass
has been lifted off and you

reveal the guts

mostly batteries, really
and you can recognize the fan

the tiny hard drive and the video
cable but so little else

tiny miracles laid bare
and still no clue as to what

burned out

Poem 20150606

crow

who hid the cloud
when the sun came out

it was here
just a second ago

keeping everything cool
and under a gray light

but now the shadows run
and shrink under our feet

and sweat runs down the
back of my neck

and the unrelenting blue
of the sky is like

a nightlight when
you’re trying to sleep

Poem 20150603

crow

let the hands move

they move

they move on

they move of their own accord

a truth in their movement
a truth in how
they slide
the hands slide
the hands pause
and trace shapes
and trace curves

let them trace
let them draw
let them follow
and grasp
and hold

each hand
five fingers true
and a truth in the muscles
and in the tendons
and in the bones
and in the marrow of the bones
and in the anima that moves them

Poem 20150601

crow

all new stories
no reprints

the western bluebird hops along
the top of the fence
but stops long enough
to have his photo taken
a photo opp
on his tour of

thrilling tales
of home improvement

the two women in kimonos
pause in the flooded street
sharing a blue umbrella

the views are only
the beginning

we’re going to need
a rosetta stone to

Poem 20150531

crow2 Comments

this is the last day of the month
the month i was born in
in case you wondered why i–

i don’t know if i care about the month
the month is just a collection of weeks
weeks a collection of days

days that are streaming past me faster
faster than i can ever remember
remembering when the summer would stretch

stretch on forever like a cat caught mid
caught mid stretch, i guess
i guess

Poem 20150530

crow

watch out for rattlesnakes
is what he says on the next leg
of the hike
and i keep my eyes on the dirt track

as if there’s not enough to think about
with the vague threat of
mountain lions and bobcats
coyotes too, i guess
and when he points out the
tarantula wasp
someone asks the redundant question
are there tarantulas here
of course there are
it has to feed its young after all

so i keep my eyes on the dirt track
and lift them occasionally to scan
the scrub for winged or coiled rattlers
or sometimes to get a look at my surroundings

it’s all scrub brush
all dusty chaparral
with an occasional lizard
or roadrunner
or hawk wheeling in the sky

it’s beautiful here, too
and lonely in its way
with the sun burning off
and the chatter of the group
and the sighing wind
on the ridges
in the canyons