I close the encyclopedia
on my salvia greggi petals
pressing a mexican sky
into the middle of the world.
A blue of intense grit.
I plant my book into
the ground so that
cobalt will grow.
Copyrighted by the author
I close the encyclopedia
on my salvia greggi petals
pressing a mexican sky
into the middle of the world.
A blue of intense grit.
I plant my book into
the ground so that
cobalt will grow.
Copyrighted by the author
A painting waltzed into the street
oil dripping off a dark velvet gown
onto his shoes polished and waxed
for the occasion.Here she fumbled
suddenly out of frame, her century gone;
in place engines, trains, pollution, people
while music retreated, a distant sound.
She lost her step and looking down, saw
only him and the arms of safer ground.
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to a year’s end which
ends with a piano walk along the keys
of a pilgrimage of sorts
beginning in a turn of mood
as a reminder of beat, like a pulse
of tune along the way
of sight. I join harmonic casts of
scores humming a chorister’s
song of songs, a palimpest
of melodies we once forgot. Then
a koel sang long and loud a harp-
felt string reverberating
into day. Still migrating on its
route each year it finds a night
to pluck an arrow from its heart
and walk another year.
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Sing for a moon-nest
high and low
as a moon-vest
coats the meadow
in a yellow glow
In a moon-west
night with a piano
high and a piano low
sing for a moon-nest
where plants grow
as they tiptoe quiet
in her yellow glow
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no guile
no crease
of war nor smatter
of pain
on time
to remind us
how humans
wax
and wane
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l
to write, melatonin
sends eyes to sleep
though mind
is going bleep bleep
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to the pavements
worn by the heat of feet
to the airconditioned offices
fanned by waste
to the parched verge
trying to breathe the fumes
of air and to the patch
with its valiant venture
though droop
was everywhere.
Birds swirled first
sensing a shift
a definition of relief
a bird-flight of
performance.
Rain came then,
a curtain call
that turned an encore
into a show
which staggers on
tap dancing
into night
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