June 18

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poetry

I watched the bear
in the meadow

and felt no fear
a vignette

at sunset
not really a trait

a descent tomorrow
and already the night

is rough against my skin
animal misgivings

lumbering in the tall grass
the wretched unease of an eve

June 15

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poetry

we took a vow of silence
but it was anything but silent

rivulets of water
and thunder at the base

of the falls—
we tried to find stillness

but it was anything but still
filigree alder leaves

flashing in the breeze
the slow sway of pines

and so we abandoned
absolutes in lieu of ablution

the staggering coldness
of the river

glacier-fed
my heart beating again

June 10

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poetry

I take us out to walk
in the rain

I suppose to shape
your character

but two is autarchic—-
a litany of tribulation

as we walk along
runoff courses

in the gutter
and pools

on the sewer plate
so we fill them

with buttercups
then run away

June 9

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poetry

can’t see the bay
but there’s a river in the sky

the world has gone gray
without distinctions

the ground slick with water
the air thick with water

traffic ground to a halt
ribbons of cars

suspended in motion
above nothing

a bridge is a structure
or something that makes

a connection
this is an assumption

and we’re getting
nowhere fast

June 8

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poetry

early summer motifs:

i

something in the brush
heard but not seen
light conjecture
bird or beast
no conclusion is reached
and everyone proceeds

ii

there are multiple seasons
within the season
nothing blooms all at once
one buds one bolts one rots
even in the most manicured lawn
a wildflower is speaking out of turn

iii

it’s later than it seems
July said with certainty now
long-tongued shadows
a growing lingering heat
addled by the northern sun
we forget the hour
dinner is late again

June 7

comments 5
poetry

When does desire
turn into greed

what is an appropriate
allotment of want

unseasonably muggy
in this forest

water has cut
a deep ravine

beneath cedar boughs
through carpets of moss

it funnels and pools
below perfunctory logs

and drops again
resisting direction

this is the work
it cannot be worked at

I know this well
and yet

June 6

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poetry

a great displacement
by such a small bird

mostly beak
and jewel-hued neck—

all other motion
stagnant

below his arcs
craning to look

we are too late
he rifles each page

of the evening sky
etches out some new

invisible rune
cleaves air

from air
we duck again

as chunks of it
come crashing down

June 5

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poetry

The heart is not here,
it can not, will not, be here—

in all this rain, more than
we’ve seen in several years.

A rabbit darts through
the overgrown lawn,

now gone to seed, each blade
a reproach. What hasn’t

been done, what can not,
will not. A sparrow ascends,

becomes untethered. Motion
is sometimes but not always

distraction. The clouds oppress
but containing is what breaks you.

In their garden beds
the radishes crack.

May 26

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poetry

worms at the core
like you’ve always known

I’m sorry it’s take me so long
to see and to act

but if you want to tear it down
and build again from scratch

here are my hands
and here is a match

May 20

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poetry

To wound the heart is to create it
 
 
I felt it flit across
the back of my hand

before I saw it
a fleeting shadow

a large spider
already gone

before the stomach drop
the untaught unease

I saw another stationed
on the orchid’s leathery leaf

another where the garden
abuts the foundation

another tracing the fall line
of the shower

I leave them alone now
some say age

make you less tolerant
but it is softening me like a blow—

house spiders
this as much their home as mine

and there are worse things
that linger unseen in the dark