Afternoon’s piano concert in a barn – June 26, 201

on hay-bale box-seats
in nocturnes
lost

enclosed day turns dreamy night
yet, birds sing
outside
still light

this music
played through life-times
notes and rests
melody and themes
intended images and dreams

now in audience
tactile, tangible
in time

your real
hearing
witnessing mine

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unlocking the door

june cloudy after rain evening
red red geraniums
kiss’t by hummingbird’s
beak
unseen wings beating
in time

beyond belief

my footfalls on the poach
send him
flashing figure eights
iridescent bottle green
around the yard

i turn my key

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may 11. 2011

blue garbage truck

rainy day may

confetti’d  with apple blossoms

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Tulips

cut pink tulips
your gift
strong stems
slipped slowly into

my sliver vase

spiraling green sword
leaves
five days after

stems pulling water
overextended reaching
still growing
twisting towards April light

pale petals
opening, revealing
gesture gently
tips flushed
blushing crimson

soft kiss of spring

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february to march – two poems

february morning

sunday rain
a week’s worth
of snow
unfixed
loosened and
unleashed
waves of
washing water

 

i get wet

 

Saturday march 12 2011

9:30 am
day-light savings time’s
overcast belies
a higher angle
unseen sun’s occluded
brightness

hope of oncoming spring

I see blue crocus in winter’s leavings

life renewed

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after the dinner

red light rain
late winter afternoon gray
me feeling
drained from the day

i remember
last evening
my house
our attentions aligned
your gift
bottle of red zinfandel wine
green olives
white cheese
tasted
together

now knowing
alone
our
unraveled edges need
constraining
head and heart
patient
restraining

taking time
for
convalescence’s
cure

shifting on green
world through a scrim
rain and remembrance
image of our parting embrace

what is it like
for you

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my mother’s needles

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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dinner theater dancing

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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awakening

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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Time for reflection – from cross-ties – one of my favorite blogs

Time for reflection.

Ultimately – or at the limit – in order to see a photograph well, it is best to look away or close your eyes. ‘The necessary condition for an image is sight,’ Janouch told Kafka; and Kafka smiled and replied: ‘We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.’ (Roland Barthes: Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography)

I love this post… do I write, and make art in order to forget – to clear my mind? Am I driven to share in order to forget?

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