Tag: poem

Poem 20150325

crow

i whisper a secret in your ear

you smile, rise up
from where we sit
and walk barefoot
across the grass
to lean against an old fence
you try not to look at me
but i catch you anyway

a stream sings about rocks
and fish and water splashing
and in the distance
a handful of trees
whisper their own secrets
to each other
leaf to leaf
and branch to branch

your skin shines
like moonlight
and you move
like moonlight
illuminating everything
with each footstep
and beneath your toes
the grass
whispers a secret

Poem 20150324

crow

the redhead and the brunette
arrived at the buffet
at the same time
they circled each other warily
though there was plenty of food
the redhead lunged at the brunette
forcing her away from
the table
then chased her
screaming
from the dining hall
and returned to
eat alone

Poem 20150322

crow

falling

a leaf does it
though i almost
never see the action
just the evidence
brown and split on the ground

tracked in wet and flat
on the bottom of my shoe
and always always near
the entryway
just in time for the cat to spot it

and in this drought
i try to feel guilty
for watering my trees
but i can’t work it up
because these are my trees
and their leaves

are

Poem 20150321

crow

head and shoulders
knees and toes (knees and toes)

is all well and good
but the parts i am interested in

the eyes
the ears
the lips
the mouth
–inside and out
the nape of the neck
the throat
the elbows
–yes elbows
the breasts, good god
the ribs
the wrist
the bellybutton
that hollow in the small of the back
the curve of the hip
the ass
the swell of the thigh
the inside of the thigh
the knees
–wait the knees are in there–
ok, the back of the knees, then
the ankles
the soles of the feet
and skin
–skin skin skin

i suppose there is a reason why
they are left out of the song
too many verses
that adults couldn’t get through
without tearing off their own clothes

Poem 20150319

crow

the lion stands on the plains
in the morning sun
his mane matted
and falling out
his bones ache
he may be losing a tooth
he doesn’t have any roars left
to rise like thunder from his chest

the other males have driven
him to the edges
and the females ignore him now
there’s little game for him when
the hunt is over
forcing him to scavenge the stripped bones
and risk the hyenas
their snarls and their laughter

his big-cat memory
reaches back to a morning
when he rose proud, as golden as the dawn
when his voice made flocks of birds wheel
black and graceful in the blue-white sky
as if by his command

this pride won’t bear him any more cubs

he pants
staring into the distance
watches the grasses wave
watches the solid shadows that are birds
peck and hop and scratch for food

maybe he can work up
one last roar

Poem 20150314

crow

is this better?
sharp focus
clear lines between the letters
the card a sharp, painful white
so clear
you can see it all

or worse?
the room fuzzes over
instant caterpillarization
of letter forms
and lamp arms
and everything at arm’s reach
recedes
like a gel lens on a doris day
movie

how about now?
and the lights go off
and there’s nothing to see
except the afterimages
popping like fireworks
and your imagination
popping like fireworks