Tag: poetry

Poem 20150907

crow

the last official day
of commercial summer

so many sales
and a day that feels like
a repeat of sunday

no one considers
that the second day of summer
the day after the solstice
was shorter than the day before
with less daylight

minute by minute
the light shrinks

and now, the evening comes early
and soon
the evening will come earlier

i long for autumn
and for a change in the leaves
and a change in the air

as long as you don’t change
as long as summer shines
resplendent in your smile
every tree on the planet
can change color
and drift like snowflakes
and carpet the yards
sidewalks
and carports

Poem 20150906

crow

like one of those science books
with transparent plates
of the human body

where the first layer has the skin
–always the best
because you can see all the dirty parts
even though it’s usually ugh the guy–

then you peel back a layer
and it’s all muscle
which is still kind of cool

after that
arteries and veins
and viscera
and you keep going
past the nerve tissue
until it’s just bones left

that’s how i imagine you
after peeling off your layers
year after year
getting through the outside
which is pretty damn exciting still
and through your guts
all the way to your bones

Poem 20150905

crow2 Comments

the first football game

aside from the ones
i attended to photograph
for the yearbook
in high school
and the one game i
took my son to
while he was still
in high school

was at the rose bowl
go bruins

the first game of the year
against virginia

and the thing i remember
aside from the heat
and the traffic
and the parking on a deserted golf course

were hundreds of dragonflies
plump and red and brown and green
rising up out of the grass
floating over water traps
hovering around the walkers
who had to trek over a mile
to the gates

one of them flew sideways
like an alien spaceship
with an antigravity engine
and no restraints on inertia

and i’ve already forgotten
the score of that game

but those dragonflies

Poem 20150903

crow

a conversation with my
phone
might start with
where am i?

and pleasant reassuring voice
comes back
with a slightly wrong address
and a map
where i almost am

no, i mean, where am i?
if you click on the map
you can zoom in
get latitude and longitude
still slightly off by maybe
20 feet
still not the answer i’m
looking for

wait wait wait

who am i?

i get all of the contact info
i entered into the phone
in one way or another
but no snarky remark about
it being an existential question
that she is ill-equipped to deal with
only that i have a name
and opted to have her call me
by another name

Poem 20150901

crow

not so picky about the details
or where the clay flies
the artist
pulls with the fine metal loop
tears out a huge
iris-shaped blob of soft clay
from the eye creating
the illusion of depth
and drives the tapered tip
of a paintbrush in
to make the pupil

it’s like those busts
at the haunted mansion
that seem to follow you
concave depressions
made to look like stone
but with the afterimage
of life
as they track you

these sculpted eyes too
follow you as you walk around it
even though they gaze into a future
of fire in the kiln
and uncertain finishes

Poem 20150831

crow

we hollow them out
the insides of bones
the insides
where the marrow sits
we hollow them out

we dig with our fingers
through the hollow channels
of our bones
whatever it is
that sits in our bones
whatever it is
the fills the bones up
before we hollow them out

we scoop it out
and make them hollow
using drills made for brownies
and pixies
we honeycomb our hollow bones
and make them lighter

getting rid of–
making ourselves lighter
making ourselves light
and we fly
and we