A small archive of some old poems, 2016 - 2019.

FAVORITE DIRT ROADS

Love for the dead

brush like hair over the rocks.

Love for the power lines stumbling

off into the distance. Love for the dark

shapes moving over the rare rain-

green mountains, love,

love for the shadows

of clouds

***

RAIN STREET

Angels argue; birds

take off from their line. Somewhere, time

goes quiet; heart murmurs a muted

clock against the cloth of a coat.

Stepping into the street I briefly can’t see myself

as anyone or anyone’s daughter; I feel the rainwater clinging

to the hypnotic roses of animal land, and the adamant hands

plucking at the red threads of my head

and Yes I feel strange and

No, I have never wanted to be

anybody else

Oh

thunder, oh

monstrous cloud

***

THIS AUTUMN’S EVE

I liked to touch the trees, &

the light that crept septemberlike

an aching autumnal, funeral

procession of blue and leaves.

I liked the time of year I

realized colors. What colors

could be, & I still do

in fact. The world narrows itself

like an old shadow into just this

evening, I’m putting one foot forth,

another. It is fine. This body the world

breathes into, these sensations of good

weather. I can’t think of anything

else than today. Premonitions

cannot frighten me, or the sad look

of an object trying to tell me

my time; it is nothing, & isn’t it better than

the contorted colors of fear, hell

and other things I’ve made up

I couldn’t make that from this

out of this blue.

***

I

I am just shy of blue eyes I am

playing soul solitaire in the morning midsilver I am

waiting I am often waiting or lazing among summers I am

pale in comparison to a poppy, a parrot or a pigeon I am

often in need of a haircut and I like to eat peaches I am

baffled happily by books too difficult for me I am

six I am also seven and I’ve always been loose at the root I am

figured out of a shape in the dark I am your stranger, I am

surrendered or resurrected I think of these words together I am

like a leaf lately I enjoy big rolling clouds I am

glad to eat breakfast and I am reminded all the time I am

reminded by a shift in sun and color and music I am

always thinking of the same things I am

always remembering I am

***

STOP MOTION / TIME LAPSE

Telling time by roses

the clock the sun over easy

in the east ticking

saying (We’re)

never in unison with ourselves.

My memory muddling

the differences every

day this way turning

up the road blue to my house

I should have paid attention when

should I have paid attention