Saturday, October 18, 2014

Upon Receiving Good News..




Nerve

Fireworks threatened to take the top off. Wet palms
twitched under eruptions of happiness.  

Shoes by the door piled up like pups--cornered,
laces tangled, tongues caught in a lie. Checkmark wings
on canvas heels had been tools toward anonymity, erasing
footprints where they fell, driving zigzag dogs crazy
as they nipped at nothing.

Judgments collected under the awning like rain, hummed
against the shell of her ear. Her skull slammed in her head.
Payroll hands weighed the options like so much gold.

Each day had been a map of dark topographies. Turning
into a skid would only postpone whatever came next.

Every step along a lucky streak uncovers a foreign place
tricked out with new lies and silences. Rising up to meet
the path of great good fortune, she could have done more,
if you want to know.

(first appeared in 42 Opus)




Thursday, October 16, 2014

Arpeggios for the Other Keyboard



 Sometimes to warm up, I try to write in another poet's voice. Here, I mimic the late great Russell Edson.



A woman asks her husband, where is my belly?
It got too big, so I rubbed it out.

What about the whole kit and kaboodle inside?
I wiped that out, too.

What about the second brain they say lives in the gut?
That is a controversial theory, like climate change and evolution.

The husband erases the smudge where his wife's belly was.
You already did that, she  says.  That's overkill.

I have to get all the ideas out! He rubs and rubs.
The wife says, I wonder whatever happened to God.

No clue, says her husband, who has rubbed a hole in the paper.
You always go too far, the wife was  heard to say.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Birthday Series: e e cummings

his self portrait
                                               
                                                i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Monday, October 13, 2014

Pandora and her Box

                                                              Janet Snell, oil, 20x24"

New Work at VerseWrights

 Many thanks to Carl Sharpe, who has published one of our collaborations at VerseWrights.
Take a look around-- it's a rich site.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Link, from Geometries: the Life of the Line





A yellow cup is not the sun
in anyone’s universe.
Neither is the blue handle an orbit
nor the cream & sugar a galaxy—
never mind how perfect the arc
as it pours on drowned leaves
to the earthen curve
of your fine bone hollow.


Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Cassini Ovals





 My before followed your after
your down and out  
your without within.
Despite or because
you moved around and about
 I wanted you behind, with me inside among.
How to get beyond?  If became when
and then right now
and the present was where
I moved past you.

Monday, October 06, 2014

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

 Lulu Books is doing its part by offering a 15% discount on their books. Just use FINDACURE at checkout. Among their titles is my own cancer memoir, a collection of poetry entitled Live Through This
.