Wait by the monument
till the shadow of it
reaches your feet.
At that very moment
history will end
and time will begin.
And with it you will
come slowly to understand.
I think that’s what the grey
sky told me when I woke.
27 February 2019
Resistance
is like weather
suddenly yielding
I wandered
through the morning
greedy for noon
and time too
bends in our fingers
and sunlight fades
26 February 2019
The daily puzzle
steams into the harbor,
how to be
again and again.
Roar of wind,
turbine whine,
crunch of hull against
aging wooden dock.
A day
new minted
from the bank.
2.
For you to spend, love,
or hide downstairs in the basement
safe from the impertinent daylight
sleazy with other people.
Being alone is pure being,
isn’t it, but what about me?
Barefoot on the tiles of permission
I wait my time
my ship is somehow
still in the channel
on the way in—
nobody needs me.
3.
Not yet.
Too many miracles
have dulled my despair.
I wait my moment,
momentum, my move.
And of course there must
be a bird in it,
gull or crow or such,
otherwise how would I know?
4.
Less to say,
more to forgive.
Moral metaphors,
dusty images.
5.
What do I mean?
No, wait, it isn’t me,
I’m just doing what I’m told,
the tree doesn’t make
its shadow, the sun does that.
All these words are just
my opacity breaking the brilliant silence.
Silence comes first.
Silence knows.
26 February 2019
Comfortable imprecisions,
logic’s easychair,
soft, soft, be like mist
in winter, windless,
no sharp edge anywhere
unless a crow sails by.
24 February 2019
Be longer, like the rain
the long lines of it
seeking us out from above,
each drop a syllable
in that huge quick text—
be more like rain.
24 February 2019
Recent Comments