Spider crawls across the ceiling lit golden by fading sun, alchemy on eight legs. traversing its upside-down world. It ignores my eyes’ silent threat, an abdomen, a cephalothorax, in league with its own survival. For high in the rafters, dangle threads fine enough to make silk jealous, to grab, entangle, passing prey. The spider slips
What I remember Is the long night The sound Of horses running On a distant hill The flood And the sudden Return of the dove
that this is carried inside a thing contained Carries the uncontainable But slipping this way Into words Can close The carrier To the thing contained Can cause The thought That they are two Things not one A thought that separates The world In its despair From the infinite
Look, you’ve got something to say, just like the rest of us. There’s got to be someone out there who will hear your call to arms and take note and change his mind. Then you’ll be the victor of the spoils. So draft up your manifesto and use LOTS OF CAPS and plenty of exclamations!!!!
In order to think, to contemplate and appreciate dilemmas brought on by modern life, he often took to strolling through the public gardens amid the verdant calmness of time honored trees and sprawling greenways that survived the patriotic acts of revolution, just far enough away from the street crowd and traffic noise, building at the
Beneath the dock from which he casts, the water is shallow and clear, the sodden earth that bears the weight of liquid is speckled with shoots that will eventually surface into a stage upon which the basso bull frog will perform his aria. Occasionally, a cloud of dirt smokes the clarity of the transparent lake
Abandoned house, are there only spiders and rodents residing amid your rooms? I see my distorted image upon the fogged glass of the old storm door, and feel like a prowler, appraising the value of items upon your walls or tucked in your corners, when, in truth, I seek to rekindle precious memories and reconstruct
What is love but the dried up bulbs the gardener insists on planting to everyone’s objections that irrationally burst into magnificent dahlias. The lunacy of uncertainty, a fascination of delight, most often unpredictable. Wild grow the flowers of the heart in the garden of our lives, wilder still blooms affection.
In those days of bees and indigo, those days of blue delphinium, I passed the peonies without a glance to bend to the scent of a row of roses. Lili was a sparrow then, an apprentice mimicking the way I matched the peacock we had watched, backside thrust in air, strutting; and equally my sniffing
I’m getting a vacation in my mouth! you quipped on the morning of your oral surgery. A trip to Aruba in a single tooth. Driving to your appointment, we passed mountains gathered like blue muslin fabric in the distance, and mountains beyond mountains, where the blue of sky melts into the blue of earth the
