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Posts Tagged ‘recollections’

my mother’s needles
hold memories
her
now two years passed on
i learn to purl

under over
knit  purl
i move these knots
casting on and off in patterns newly understood
imagined

staying up late
stitching
fabricating
inheriting yarns

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invited to the waltz
stopped in my tracks by doubt
unused to these shoes

i don’t remember where
to put my hands
or how to dance

how do i recall
what seems completely new

guide me by texture
double-breasted wool suit
pressed
lightly into silk blouse
high heels
now knowingly glide

room rounds as
we
others
tables dishes napkins glasses bottles
chairs coats handbags
all
musicians singers performers

flow
one living thing
under the
tent
in the warm electric night

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january 16, 2011

twelve past four in the afternoon
winter light leaving day

i see

my feet standing on

water streaming over

gravel driveway

surrounding mist
thousand tiny rain drops

dropping

wetting my face
hair
hands
my shirt and pants

waking me up

what was that dream of grief

i reclaim my life

now

noticing the world is still here

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rain falls
melting

long frozen sorrows below the
snow

frost heaved furrows open
soft earth

saturated
ground

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mid-winter slanted sun
shines the north slope
clean

while

my unseen face
faces

snow
sheltered in southern shadows
clinging perfectly to the branches and twigs

frozen still

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overhead
hot suns in endless space are just

cold white points

 

here

faceted ice
crystals
frozen snow

refracting  stars – New Year’s night’s potential

 

lies

infinity
at my feet

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longest night

thirteenth full cold moon

twice erased

eclipsed in shadow of the unseen sun

obscured

by clouds

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can you admire the moon
as she shines
new to full

not fearing the changeable tides
nor burdened by gravity’s pull

light blue half globe
dim in the day
or lost in the rain or clouds

glowing giant on horizon’s edge
bright in the night
reflecting day again

orbiting you
her light for you
waning and waxing for you

can you bear the shifting tides
the pull of gravity

for love

of the moon

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knocking my head against

the wall
pounding ‘till i don’t feel it
anymore

why don’t i turn the other
way
round

no wall
on a curved surface
space/time is not flat

why do my thoughts get
written in script

lies

so close to the plane of a page
when i want to reach though
the surface

break though
more suitable atmosphere
feeling myself in all dimensions

moving my body to breathe

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the first snow came
hard
before all the leaves had fallen

no red, orange and yellows
some still cling
lifeless
ghostly green
to the branch

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