the river at night
August 28, 2010 § 2 Comments
I wonder if conversation does for human beings what the river at night does for the streetlights…
It smooths them out, ripples them, attenuates.
It lets them be something other than themselves, but still attached to the original.
The river at night shows them what they’re not:
sparkling, moving, changing.
ratios
August 26, 2010 § 2 Comments
blue : mud on your boots
purple : twilight
sage : scent of linen pages
nowhere : copper
birch : ice
godiva : smoke in the air
calligraphy : wet glass
child
August 24, 2010 § Leave a comment
I listen to his young silence far away
next to me as I drive down the wide highway
into the purple morning lit by
the trail of sparks above us
he will never know me
when I am young
and the stars bend around me
a night kitchen 