Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Monday, August 20, 2012

dane

pulled his
car so close and I grumbled

walked in last week asking if
I were an art painter

smiling
old blonde
gone grey
think
thin
and old
coveralls
cap

felt a little
quick-temper
and mulish
irritation

today
he smiles
looks
interested
and I
invite him in

compliments work

show him plein air
8 small sketches

looking down at them he tells
his dead wife did this also
he has them still at home

he's glad to have them
as he was her
can tell
that now
and his like of
this place and
pictures

"I love your country."

"I do too."

shook hands
strong
dirt-stained
fingers



meadow


near the factory
two boys in red jackets by a pond
look up
over the
clematis
raspberries
wild mint
past
a green field
with
large trees
ripening apples

behind them
sheep
in
evening
sun
in a
yellow
meadow

murmuration

so
many
together


clow and tithe

m e s s e n g e r s






hot

working hard weather

we're hot

don't stop

now

waxing crescent

bigger light to spy

water paper stone

on(c)e
blood
(flood)
on(c)e
(thin)
skin
on(c)e
bone
(stone)

Sunday, August 19, 2012

flint river

imagined
running here
with the
black
and
light

what a sight

Bad habit

smoking
is a bad habit
coursed by writing
and women

needs revision

isn't

that

easy


Eid

light
warm
in field
the smell of cut hay
and fox urine
small
brown
frog
wood
vole
road
kill
dry bullfrog
flat
loon call
not all
not all
swan
hiss
bull kissed calf
pissing
cow
low
low
lowing
heard

found
fossil
smooth blue
stone



an
ordinary
celebration

Saturday, August 18, 2012

det sorte vand

f u l v i c

d e a t h

not

no

nothing

m e r c e n a r y

about it

wind

m   e   a   n   d   e   r   (s)   i   n   g   (s)

solsort

she's

still here

on the green grass

her white skull
brown - blooded now

brown

as

the worms in her beak

for

her satisfied children.

ordinary

days
numbers
reports of rain
and
mild discomfort
are
socks you assume will fit the foot
neither very large
nor
very small
untwisted
clubless

ordinary
is
an ingrown
security

you walk on in it








Monday, August 13, 2012

dark water notes - painting, walking, reading

15
that is
3
and
3  times four

1
walking the stream to see it
see in it
see
it
it's
itness
not my it
at least not the it I appear it to be
rather
into through to
focus

2
walking fresh plowed fields to help the
eye
see
water in dirt
soil
mud
shells sparkling stones
and glasslike flint
alabaster
amber
sap coloured
to swamp sap green

3
read Beowulf
for rhythm
of edges
sound for sight
empathic repetition

Sunday, August 12, 2012

letters

years of them

ghosts

with one press

delete
or
save

used to burn them



years of them

teach

letting
go

don't touch

fire

that button

she

she
housebound
husband sickened and died
alone
alone

forgave?
no question
but

yes

yes

yes

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

sort flint vandet

earth
under stars, millenium
wheat and wheel
fish
keel
under foot
too much
gloam
glint
rain
but under water
lives
a thing
still
still
looking


wounded bird

evening
on the lawn


her dusky  attentiveness


she seemed wholly occupied, foraging

except
for the raw
skin skull
turned to me
as she tipped
to feed

it said

in red

other horror
led her here


sort

a dream
long black banners
in the wind
three
and five
numbers thought in score and decade
wind
darkness

Nagqu far inland
high above
and yet
(as I am here)
an island
of
difference

Xi Zang
another name for
loss and remembrance

I stitch it in to the tale of
of BlackHawk's people
drowned in the dark waters
where I stood watching the slow sleep of a salmon

dark rubbed stories
dug
flung out, unfurled

long black banners
in the wind

three miseries
and five prayers
unhemmed
ravelling


old numbers among
supplicants, liars,
and
flint heavy peoples

new numbers
hide
histories




midland, island

can't go far from the middle of
this
I begin to wonder
why
shore escapes
not enough steps or
the rain thunders down, pushing back
maybe midland wants to stay me
to watch the river
walk in brief wood
admire its wheat and its berries

an island can come close
close round
as much as
mid-continent
a river
is no exit

things

staunch

unshakeable

t a n g i b i l i t y