runner – carpet – underfoot
from where i stand it’s all right here
all i have to do is pull some
threads – together – for the sun
to glint rotaries and whistles
30 Sunday Nov 2014
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in
runner – carpet – underfoot
from where i stand it’s all right here
all i have to do is pull some
threads – together – for the sun
to glint rotaries and whistles
29 Saturday Nov 2014
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in
i took the bee
from the window pane
removed it – let it
loose – from the top
of the top step
28 Friday Nov 2014
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in
the spinning wheel was a gift from her mother –
old – 18c – found – missing only one small part –
an opening so narrow – for thread –
of specific fiber – flax. The part has been repaired.
The repairer recommending – mechanism be
set in place
as furniture
so much labor
for so little thread.
28 Friday Nov 2014
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in
for taije
the canticchiò is in the kitchen
gurgles, fish; Mountain always
journey; mother’s knees an instant,
brush, gaze beyond; within these walls
no sound; sound. Cry. Birdsong now.
Hammering. Car. Hum. That house is
no more. That other house is Still.
O poet. That was BlaspheMe.
listen
Sentami
i go every day to that small
room – waiting – wait – listen
to see what form sound will take
28 Friday Nov 2014
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in
her two feet felt
beneath them sand
sea the first time
after one hundred
years
24 Monday Nov 2014
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in
the pathways segments
revealed, the gray
matter — redbird perched
on a branch – left temple
23 Sunday Nov 2014
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in
for Taije
i woke up holding half a sphere
suspended around my neck
the other hand was open above my head –
the same hemisphere i had taken off
it weighed me down
and put back on
in the nick of time
my world
.
i woke up holding half a globe
suspended around my neck — close close to my temple
purchased when the world was imagined
whole-er – a distant house on a cliff above the seacoast,
a mother there with a mother (and configurations
and re-configurations past & future imagined whole)
.
salt
salt-on-chips
and rented folding chairs
seaside chairs in such a strange, amusing, confining,
uniform configuration
and where a stranger pulled the child from the surf
when he had walked off too far from us.
.
i woke up this morning holding half a sphere in my palm
(flattened back, not carnelian,
perhaps polished volcanic stone)
the other hand was open
the coffee-maker said – tic –
the aquarium said – it gurgled – hum
22 Saturday Nov 2014
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in
the hum echoing
from the back of the throat
was low moan — more like whale sound
of mother —
or child —
that back strong fin
above surface — with so much more work
yet
to do
21 Friday Nov 2014
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in
that heel is against you? ear gossip about?
that you shall not stand again?
do not fret
trellis is —
that disk is before you
yellow, golden, butterscotch
countenence
ing
19 Wednesday Nov 2014
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in
in the darkest part of Night
i woke and checked the time
at intervals and was struck —
as if forehead on door frame in
darkened hallway without the light
on, or reaching for one, Brain —
darkness, that mother and second home
have the same address.