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Poetic Bloomings: 16 July
The Summer We Lost Childhood We were 6th grade. The big kids, and we walked the rail line. Its steel shining, a thin string of silver silk that disappeared into the distance as if swallowed by trees and life’s path. It was a balancing game. Practise. To see who’d go the farthest. Those summers were…
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Poetic Bloomings: 15 July
Dawn and Dogs and … Is this your dawn or mine — Is it yours to greet or mine to ignore. That glare is a fishwife’s shriek, it wakes the dog, who paws the door, who whines for relief as it walks the floor, then into the garden, emptied, relieved. I sleep. I sleep. Today’s…
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Poetic Bloomings: 13 July
Shades of Sand I wade in salty sea with delirious shells On shades of sand, in fog that sighs, And once again I walk summer’s swell It caresses my feet, soft as butterflies. On shades of sand, in fog that sighs Come night when stars are born and bed caress my feet, soft as butterflies.…
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Poetic Bloomings: 11 July
Dog Day Memories I’m blinded by summer heat, by its light, by my retreating memories of auto-change 8-Track Players, of red naugahyde seats, of hips swaying to Mungo Jerry, not that I bought his records, nor did I touch the sky, but I listened to other people’s music, and other people’s ’70s opinions. And by…
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Poetic Bloomings: 10 July
Moonlight Stung We sit in awe. We watch that coiled moon of gold. A mirage that migrates the tops of trees. It pleases those lavish of summer, those bees that sting a summer moon. Written for Poetic Bloomings: “Summer Moon“
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Poetic Bloomings: 9 July
(Working/Draft Version) Above the Crust They come in legions, summer clouds. They hide in the folds of a thousand constellations, then part. Set the sky to blue. And those clouds ponder heaven, scratch the sky and swallow kites, but below their heaven’s walk, we chew at earth’s crust. And limp. written for Poetic…
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Poetic Bloomings: 8 July
That Summer of Crows I was ten. I was smaller then. The world was smaller, and that made everything bigger. Made the sky bigger. Made the old oak bigger than sky, and when I stood under that tree, clouds disappeared into its leaves, into its shadows. It was wind- flicked and dry as old books.…
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Poetic Bloomings: 7 July
June 1962: All That Noise and Bomb Drills Summer rain fell on our white winter arms, that much we both remembered. It was a chill that tightened the skin. Stiffened your bones. And we’d hang around like two stretched ropes, sitting on the front steps waiting for Dad to come home. Do you remember, she…
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Poetic Bloomings: 6 July
Every End Becomes an Ache Summer has lost a friend, Slipped and tipped over like dominoes, The soft sorrow of roses, forfend, Summer has lost a friend, Lost its bird song and country lane’s end, Lost the sweetness of hedgerows, Summer has lost a friend, Slipped and tipped over like dominoes. To my forever-friend,…
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Poetic Bloomings: 5 July
“Maybe all losses before this one are practice,” – from Our Lady of Perpetual Loss by Deborah Miranda It’s a New Beginning I heard a robin sing last night, to windswept leaves lost in dark, to the moon bright as skin, and ghostly clouds pressing light. There in new beginnings, where I left my…
