| home | audio & video clips | bio | books | contact | interview | poems to read |
|
review of Naltsus Bichidin | review of Shake Hands | what friends say | what's new |
 


One To A Bunch
      for N.
 

The endless chores
                                   cultivated

                    elbow-wax, kneeling
                    to spread the water
across the floors
sponge in one hand
wine glass in the other

tuck-pointing
                      the stone farm house’s
crumbling wall, repairs, pointless
accusations, the Hondra
I brought "because
I had one"
half our years together
on all fours

sanding the floor boards flat
to the bay window      .     where a bat entered,
drifted the rounded corner to cross you
his stubby head flattened     .      a last fling,
you sed, tennis racket in hand

the cat gone crazy was dangerous
bouncing off the ceiling, left to me,
slipping the towel in which,
pressing down, you were to hold him, paws trapped
beneath him, a hop & a jump, swinging
'round at the ceiling, claws to burrow
back arched, as you fled, the broom in the corner
in reach, a good hit
                   for one who rarely clipped a fast ball

spring's first passes
monk's heads & sumac
hemmed in by wildflowers
                                          for you the telltale
                                          dappled petals

half-broken spidery lines
never half-finished, I
                         under limestone cliffs

your eyes allowed
their moment only
to identify.  The vanity
of naming what flickered
passed me, specks
of stars in cold grass, the big trees
displaying moss,
                     by the river.

Taste &
knowledge the
weapons of
choice: Carl, let's keep
on, notice it grows
in shade, what lives in shade?  Tell me
o what?  Mistress

of a Montessori school

my daughter at 6
was wise to you.

Taste, a lamp skin coat, a Sawyer,
no dishes in cuboards
but Bruska, & I loved you
for the vanity you reenforced

in choosing me.

back to the poems menu

 

webspace provided by:

POSSIBILITY X