to pare

so spare

that

this

life

becomes

translucent

 late summer

sunflowers

blueberries

so

many

bees

 the vehicle 

a mouse

in the house

removing obstacles

If approval doesn't come

one must

consider

nomadic 90 days

stays in Portugal

and UK

or

more importantly 

back to Asia

There is no ease

no please

that will open doors on what

or

with what

luck

 Neptune southeast

on the horizon

a blue room

between solstice and equinox

moonlit

 

2 dreams summer 1993

1

I passed a dilapidated Victorian, grime-smeared, sprayed with graffiti.

The street level shop windows were boarded, the upper windows broken. I approached the building and touched it lightly. The entire building crumbled into a fine and beautiful dust. 

Trees, growing in dirt squares surrounded by sidewalk, began to snicker. 

2

Mozart's Ah Tutti Contenti

from the Marriage of Figaro,

finely spun!

A pond appeared

where turtles sung.

Maria Robusti (1993)

Maria Robusti

What would you have thought

of a still damp drawing of a pregnant mare?

Lifting your eyes, as I did,

would you have felt

a shiver of recognition, a sudden nearness

to that long-dead artist?

Would you have left Rouffignac

with that graceful image

embedded in your bones?

1993

 This is for you, my dear

who in that year

could have filled your

umeployment forms out

in ancient greek

or very poetic French.

It was frustrating to watch you

write letter after letter

seeking work

when you had enough work

(filled the rest of your days).

What really were you after

but a little money to get by on?

 

You told me then, and I hear you now, say the future has no hold on us,

we're too close to the present, and we gain nothing from desire,

however enticing, without this god damn struggle just to stay alive,

to create.

dreams

 1

of chicory, and a vision

snow blown from a tree

fruit blossoms falling

it's a cherry tree, too

2

near a dark lake

deer have eaten

all the hyacinth -

their spring asparagus

 3

pileated woodpeckers

over a foot high

are eating suet

an arm's length away

4

I am able to see tiny creatures 

feeding on my skin

molting exoskeletons 

or

5

a cornfield

lit by thousands

of tiny abdomens

 

 

 

 

 

 

1997

january 21st

Dad had his operation last night. The doctors found tumors in his colon, lesions in his

large and small intestines, skin tumors, bone cancer. His body's crumbling. The cancers will reach a large organ, the brain, in months not years. 

We send flowers with sweet smelling lilies. Mary and Maureen cry a lot. Paula thank god she's so damn efficient and fair, clear thinking.

Dad did it. He lived long enough to take care of mother.

Hope Dad lives to see spring, Paula says.

 

march 4th

Dad's in very recent chemo

may give him unhoped-for months

Mare and maureen there

and Mom comes home

lots of busy

wears mom and dad out

a good thing

a long straight sleep rare for them these days

the guilt

have we done enough?

as many answers as family

but I suspect

always in the negative

cannot be otherwise

living through dying is full of surprises

love. separation.

bittersweet ordinary.

 

 

 

april 17

 warm spring smell

trees prickly with roundthorned buds

 

we've overwintered another year here

today we walk to the river

 

downy woodpecker, nuthatches, geese 

and lovesick gulls

holding hands

I know we

are formed first by love -

his patience, suffering

shuts me up

a lucky woman

to have such a  graceful partner

savor joy

it is not forever

 

 

 a flexible form

a vocabulary of "wave"

as

non-specific meditative signifier

for example

a buffalo cow

seen through

human height Silphium 

or

an old trout

in a water glen

of aspen

morning

 the heat

will come 

this street

wide and open

a crooked cross

there 

is n't 

enough

time

for 

too

much

august birds

1

goldfinch

flew through

strewn tansy 

 

2

august heat

completes

swallow-altering

air

 

3

female finch's

lament

hawk-quickened 

spent

 

 

the beds

Women held you 

as you passed 

from one world to another

on pale iron beds

white as moons

in rooms of skin 

and tulips.

You, purpling between sheets, 

breathing first

a cry

or

at the end

a sigh

of transcendence.