Sunday, August 23, 2015

Sunday, August 16, 2015



1
in situ

I visit a room that does not move.
Everything in this room cannot be dead.

2
oculis

Inger Christensen hasn't glasses, or eyes.

3
sine qua non

Without grace one becomes sloppy,
uncoordinated,
like a drunken dog.

4
terminus

Nothing can be done without it.




p a s t l i f e


2 dreams

It's 31 degrees
I walk the river to the library
thinking of last night's dreams



In the first, a dragon became a river
that lifted from the earth and flew like a kite



In the second,
it was 31 degrees
from the clear blue sky
rained tiny spheres of ice

Melospiza melodias

s o n g    s p a r r o w 

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

evening
mother robin very close
goldfinch among the thistle
fledgling thrush clinging to second story screen

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

i keep falling
through the water and then air again
an upside down sky
like English before 1066
or me
after you

Monday, August 10, 2015

mourning becomes electrolysis
It's the deep edge
the brink that resounds.


I'm interested in jumping out of my skin into it

- recording where air ends and water begins -

composing a ledger of edges.


Out that hole
into the snow
past the ice to summer
the water cuts black to green.

Go ahead and fall into it.

Autumn catches your breath and refuses your surrender.

Yet you're wet.

Write it down - "I didn't drown."






Sunday, August 9, 2015

I am waterlogged
lonelinesses befriend me

moving downriver with the church bells and gulls
toward an open
sea
set teacup lake to seiche
arrive

e l s e w h e r e