Author: C

May 20

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poetry

that inexorable pull the waterfall splitting into a hundred separate streams rivers in the air full coursing but bankless even in fear there is boundlessness here mist and rain caught in indeterminate webs and spiders dead center if there is mystery we carried it in water runs to the lowest point Advertisements

May 18

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poetry

A crisp evening the pasta perfectly al dente light clinging to the sky like legs of wine finally quiet caesura– and no one claps through the pause– everything in harmony except that door, ajar

May 16

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poetry

All day today half -heard noises, like a baby mobile, or was that a cat? Don’t you hear the thing, calling? Or am I too attuned to the periphery, lines of demarcation, too glib the response, quick as a field of grass in spring, Whitman said tongues, no, blades– but I’m not green, can count the seconds before a thunder clap, and if I were to really ask– easier to shut the cold thing out, […]

April 30

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poetry

You said it’s still winter, ice sheets around Greenland, while flying, up above it all, hermetically sealed, observing, removed, the ice withdrawing, the ocean stretching to fill a void, although from altitude it wouldn’t seem to be moving at all, there are subtle things you miss from austere heights, giving up detail for the largest panorama, further out, still, with no more borders, strange landforms falling under the very edge of the day, abstract clouds […]

April 29

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poetry

My heart is over by the budbreak far far over in true sun and night no passivity of rain it falls unequivocally as the light comes down in bars full chords of golden rays and the shadows palpable. My heart is just one cautious note a finch at the field’s edge singing it is so very late and yet still early a frost would be the end irrevocably but the leaves unfurl like tiny sails […]

April 9

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poetry

Sun today like honey like salve and that breeze coming off the lake– crisp bridges linear and visible in fullest color not simply more light this clarity– winter has its own perspective– a twist of mirrors and new glass shifts into focus a few repurposed shards illusions of infinity and then there is this sky

April 6

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poetry

Waiting on the weather report. Come dawn we’ll know better but for now it’s unseasonably warm. Which makes these words unreasonably harsh. Why burden your burden? You sink stones in mud to step on, a way across, why be mean to your means, unless you seek an end?

March 21

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poetry

Mark it the world is opening up again even the night is lightening up the late light golden-green the hour squall-hued– you come in and ask why am I just sitting in the dark? A quiet room invites recollection the scent of rain the sense of it, also the sheen of it on plate glass– I’m watching till it’s over

February 28

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poetry

Punctuation. Pedantry. It’s not a question but a wall, impermeable by design. The forecast has been wrong all week; I anticipate wrongness now like expecting rain, the hail that fell for hours, you can tell it will by the color of the sky, or at least I thought you can, that doubtful gray superimposed on blue. Hard rain that doesn’t roll off, the wind compels it, impels it. And falling silent, do I repel, or […]

January 17

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poetry

Birds scatter, lacking surface tension, cohesion. They barricaded the sidewalk, but only on one side, turning back it said DANGER. Even a shrug would be too decisive. Nothing sticks, an oilcloth sky, raindrops and seagull droppings. Could have been much worse, but wasn’t