Running nearly through a world standing still
I wove a path from tailgate to hood and car to car
through the traffic crowding the crosswalk
In your passenger window
I caught my reflection beside you I was a ghost
broadcast across the distance of the traffic light in your eyes
frozen in the blink between stop and go
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
as the sun fights for life
These two weeks are made-to-order sunshine
mislabeled and rerouted from Arizona to the NW
Even in light of the rain last night
this afternoon gouges itself on blue
the clouds tauntingly distant
the sun mockingly optimistic
two weeks to remember what summer means
as the sun fights for life
two weeks to pretend itself into spring
before the veil descends once more
How can I enjoy the moment when its fleeting?
How can I honor the season when it is only a ghost?
I become a mockery between darkness and storms off the Sound
dusting off sunglasses emerged from hiding
letting t-shirts revel in the sweater-free air
looking over my shoulder at the mountains
what secrets are you hiding?
what monstrosity lurks beyond your peaks
waiting for the dead of night to steal into the city
and pound against rooftops with waterlogged fists?
mislabeled and rerouted from Arizona to the NW
Even in light of the rain last night
this afternoon gouges itself on blue
the clouds tauntingly distant
the sun mockingly optimistic
two weeks to remember what summer means
as the sun fights for life
two weeks to pretend itself into spring
before the veil descends once more
How can I enjoy the moment when its fleeting?
How can I honor the season when it is only a ghost?
I become a mockery between darkness and storms off the Sound
dusting off sunglasses emerged from hiding
letting t-shirts revel in the sweater-free air
looking over my shoulder at the mountains
what secrets are you hiding?
what monstrosity lurks beyond your peaks
waiting for the dead of night to steal into the city
and pound against rooftops with waterlogged fists?
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Li-Young at the shrine of words
I saw Li-Young Lee last night
whose words title this page
I traveled to the Seattle Center
to pay homage to an inspiration
When I met him four years ago he was
just as lofty and etherially minded as his work
Even last night he was ever the poet
at once parrotting Buber in his poems
even his interview staged for the audience benefit
was also only I and Thou...
while hoarse and complaining that
he'd eaten peanuts he never eats peanuts
he's allergic to peanuts
and they were good
I see my own struggle
the way I drift in and out of my poetic mind
way-laid by TV Radio Music e-mail and other genres
Li-Young is enlightened
or stuck
existing solely within his poetic perspective
Is the perfect artist the perfect human?
Can the perfect human even perceive art?
Who am I?
Monday, February 11, 2008
When the weather is the day unwound
Meaning to be energy
I wait watching the gray sky diffuse
un-fused struggling to light the day
the bushes still concealed in leaves
are all brandishing Beckett
in the wind tauntingly rainless
Given into this aging armchair
the Panderbox caterwauling to the windows
I may as well be a seagull
buffeted by the air-currents
churning into an Escher staircase
I wait watching the gray sky diffuse
un-fused struggling to light the day
the bushes still concealed in leaves
are all brandishing Beckett
in the wind tauntingly rainless
Given into this aging armchair
the Panderbox caterwauling to the windows
I may as well be a seagull
buffeted by the air-currents
churning into an Escher staircase
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
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