Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Mockingbird

The crow settles out of the grey-clouded sky
that frames a peaked shingled roof, its brick chimney capped with tile.
Wings beat a gentle twice, slowing, then lifting
so the feet spread a toe's width above the roof peak,
then settle as if there were no flight
the crow stands, and with a shudder shakes the muscles out
then scouts the street and neighbors with quick, full-headed glances all around.

Across the street a mockingbird sits atop the tile atop its chimney
cheater cheater churning turning into female-stopping
sweet jagged rhythms and piercing cluster chords that may even impress a crow
and certainly humiliate a poet trying awfully hard to learn his secret.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Parabolic Curves

How I love telephone poles and wires in the fall. The mellowing browns and blacks are extraordinary. The looping, natural parabolic curves bring me to my knees. The cross bars, insulators, joint-boxes and transformers all share my rapt attention. I barely see the no parking signs and streets of asphalt and cement. Somehow they represent life eternal while the trees and flowers discolor, die and fall behind them, barely noticed.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Thursday, October 9, 2014

A Vision

We lie naked face to face in semidarkness,
your body's profile an exquisite, timeless curve ...

We touch, explore each other gently, somehow not erotic,
looking, seeing, exposing to each other
a wonder that is eternal, yet ours alone.