[unfamiliar]
April 28, 2011 § Leave a comment
Midnight in spring, unfamiliar sound:
wind through the leaves
[a letter]
April 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Midnight —
I post myself like a letter to the next day
but with no signature
[your wilderness]
March 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
It helps to know the wilderness around you enough
so you can hide in it when you have to.
[My poetry is getting more prose-like. I don’t know why, and I can’t stop it.]
[yard trees]
March 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
Greener now than they used to be:
The yard trees now that the house has gone.
[chicory]
March 19, 2011 § 4 Comments
Image via Wikipedia
if the chicory is on the road
so am I
traveling so far that the wild carrots become
Queen Anne’s Lace
Nightcrawlers pray for America
March 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
In the dark of noon
a roadside bait shop sign
glows at us
NIGHTCRAWLERS PRAY FOR AMERICA
Even the animals of the earth,
who live so deep
they only know of our weather
when the rain carries it down to them,
pray for us
as towers fall
like candles through the air
prayer for mornings
March 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
bless the eastern edge of the sky
as it rises from the night
bless the light
as I touch it
it grows
bless the dark edges of the face
before me between me
and the sun
bless that which I cannot see
bless what the light keeps from me
and bless its unseen watching
First House
March 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Image by urtica via Flickr
slowly the leafy green stem round budlike flower I thought
to choose to build under the shade of it
in the cup of branches
the house safe fort
all by myself and the kitchen door
alone on its twig in the holly shade
to build
I get a blanket
I get a cup
I get a dish and a book and away
the white budding popping here and there
waking up after my day
to find my house had changed itself
along in its flesh and deep wherever it was
and I stood
and I knelt
and I looked
it was the cackling crisp wasp worm
pasted with eggs
and arched
and reared
and waved
at me
and screamed and one of us screamed
a night kitchen 