Poem of the Week

the unannounced relation's end
* i wrote this when i was in a very strange place in my head, fall 2003.
i knew for certain that this poem would end up unread, unpublished, and unwanted.
but for some reason, it has an important place in my life, so i'm giving it
thanks by placing it on my website. xoxo *

there is no consummation
in true thought

when in time the swallow flies
and the sands, they move too...
we stand there like two guideposts,
watching owls,
and pray that the weather
allows a passage to the north.

there is no consummation in flight,
in freedom,
in birth,
in the joining of hands.

i watch him again,
the carrier of breeze,
the catalyst of flight
and i spy the summit.
he lands.

i will never look at the ocean again.
it has consumed my heart,
the beauty of flight,
and the firmness we call land.

- Sunday, August 22, 2004

A Silly Ocean Love
* i wasn't ready to share this poem yet, but my darling kelly
emailed me, demanding a new poem, not old stuff from my journals.
this is from december 2003, and i haven't put it in the final cut for
the new book yet so you can thank kelly that you're reading it.*

A Silly Ocean Love

It is what I want.
A big stacked pancake love.
A rolling boulder love.
A no-equalibrium love.
I will: sit here alone and write-
Drink gin and tonic at bars with
myself as company,
drive fast with no destination and
no passenger-
But I do want a fat love,
A smacked face love,
A breath under-the-covers love.
It is what I want.

See how the ocean is goofing off.
See how my two feet taunt its lapping,
how I carry my shoes like
I'm holding a hand.
I have thought of love
by this sea as it
giggles and reminds
me of spades and terry cloth,
how the sea makes me dream of
being with someone,
sharing coffee in the evening,
all of that brown summer love.

Ocean, you tell me it is what I want.
A taxi ride love.
A jumping bean love.
A quiet weeping willow in the spring love.

It is what I want.
Don't let my walking on the beach
fool you.
I'd just as soon carry four shoes.


- Thursday, August 12, 2004

the slowest fall
* i wrote this poem on September 26th, 2001. i originally titled
it "ran into some confusion..." *

these little lights we call stars
just sat there.
but they moved so slowly we
could not see-
like mushrooms do from
nightfall to morning,
like the coming of low tide,
you close your eyes and
it has changed...
you open them and it is
as it is.

perhaps our youth did that too.
some witch cast a spell upon
the bathroom mirror:
you feel your face and it feels
as it did yesterday.

when did it change?

when did the jack-o-lantern
gain those spots?
when did that flower wilt?
when did our cat get so old?
i did not see it happen.

i awoke today and everything had changed.

- Thursday, August 12, 2004

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