Boat Across the River
Just another WordPress.com weblogArchive for Poetry
Three Thoughts
Laughter
My son’s
constant joy
makes me
so joyous!
Opening
When I have a good idea
I feel like there’s an opening
in the darkness of my mind
where I can crawl inside…
Reaching a Point
Do you ever reach a point
where every written word
disgusts you?
With what it’s trying
to be, but never
can be?
Jekyll Island: Sunrise
One moon.
One sun.
Who drips red up
from water.
We are here
to honor
the sea.
I’m lucky
I don’t
live here
because this way
every day
is magic –
would I want
to think that this
is ordinary?
Sitting — Part 2
When I close my eyes,
first I see
a vibrating filament,
that with effort
I can cause to vibrate
in one place.
Vibrating and still
all at once.
Then I see a soft blanket,
smoothed of any wrinkles.
Like I’ve calmed the surface
of the sea.
Sitting — Part 1
Sitting on a cushion
there occurs to me
the notion
that my spine
is a stem,
my head
a poofy flower…
Flowers at Night
White flowers
on the pear tree –
even more
lovely at night.
The petals
and the darkness both
are softer
still
beside each other.
love. guitars.
at the show
guitarists play
one guitar is cherry red
shining in a bright light
i start to feel
that it’s become my heart
the room shakes
music beats inside my chest
either that or I
am inside this song
pieces of the ceiling fall
our seats vibrate
they are pulsing
the whole balcony
beats the rhythm
that beats on stage
and in our chests
will we all fall down?
i think that any minute now
during any one
of these songs
we could each break open
like eggs and ooze together
in the frying pan.
Daughter’s Third Birthday
down, constantly,
always the same
speed, always
the same number
of leaves seemingly
always falling
such that I think
of a screen saver
called “Autumn”.
They have coordinated
their falling — in fact
it is a simple letting go:
first these, then the next
group. It seems it will always
be the same, but it won’t
really and this exact
scene won’t last for long.
These are my thoughts
as we walk together,
and you have just
turned three, and you collect
your beautiful leaves
for your bouquet, so excited –
each one is a miracle.
Son’s Day of Birth
where you were born,
looking out the window
at the storm –
beautiful and dangerous,
I remembered that people
are coming and going, always
coming and going.
It’s August — here you are!
One year ago, your great
grandmother moved on
and you will never
know her, though she will
be watching over you,
and she will know you well.
Strange to be known
and not to know.
Distracted by the hospital,
needles, the neverending flow
of nurses marking time — rigid
hands of a clock
where things are black or white.
I was numb
to the fact it was your first
day on Earth!
Then one woman held you up,
said, “Welcome, Little One!”
She really saw
you like I do and I focused
again on the mystery
of life — yes!
Welcome! On this day of your birth,
welcome to life
with us on Earth.
Childhood
on the big brown couch…
you look so small in the dark,
cross legged in your Jessie nightgown,
cradling in one arm your Jessie doll.
As you watch you hold the ribbon
to your Thomas the Train balloon
that Grandpa gave you Sunday;
the TV lights up the room,
the smile on your face,
and the joy in your eyes.
