Showing posts with label this is a total and complete draft like everything else here. Show all posts
Showing posts with label this is a total and complete draft like everything else here. Show all posts

03 April 2018

2/30

A little Robin, a little Emerald Tablet, a little Hondo

I look up. I think incandescently 
about my sister’s night sky app
that clarified the constellations 
from that dark corner in Texas
April night gathered outside 
                  here a true explanation
                  concerning which there 
                  can be no doubt:
as above, so below 
the secret humming beneath the secret 

I look up. I think who grouped them 
where they lay who drew ram, lion, 
water bearer come to bring needed nectar 
thirsty thirsty as we’ve been    are     who 
stole a world from us, corralling stars
                  to make the miracle 
of the one thing 
look up

27 April 2014

talk about it (27)

talk about it, the splendor

Never the language always the rhythm.
Always the beat, the song, the blood’s pulse,
the finger running, thrumming, toe knock knock
knocking against the seat in front, would
you stop, would you just stop. Ever
the nodding, catching the tune, sipping
the melody out of the jazz, sucking
the jazz out of the lyric, hearing
the joke in the shift in the lilt, ready
to laugh at it, ready to cry about it, hard,
heavy sobs, breath lost, sob muscles
essing the body. Never the words, or hardly
ever the words, because here come the waves,
the mountains, here the view of the bounce,
green in all directions and dun and pearl
and undulating marble mounding, squeezing
that space inside, mounting and
again then pushing it out, out, heaving,
hefting, helling, heavening. Again.

10 April 2014

Poem drawn from the "fellows followed" list on my blog at 10:20 pm 10 April

I sense you understand me perfectly.

                       (Language drawn largely from
                         the "fellows followed" list
                         on my blog at 10:20 pm 10 April)

The traffic on First is careful tonight,
earnest, gray. Birds, pianos and the moon
our self-portrait. The sheriff rides in
to arrest the weather, fat snowball
competing with her favorite tumbleweed.
For the excellent career in roustaboutery,
broken bowls, winter blooms, acerb
whistles over interference.
It’s all interference,
pulsing handbrakes,
ridiculous.