Beginning to See the Light
Venus
the planet’s name…
connations
the curvature
Phosphene
in my mind’s eye…
connatations
the curvature
Venus
the planet’s name…
connations
the curvature
Phosphene
in my mind’s eye…
connatations
the curvature
Utterly Extinct:
Lucky with a nasturtium blossom too
Take
One knight’s sidestep away from sanity
Look around
Trace checkered tiles to the horizon
Line wheat woven baskets to carry
Join them
Cut corners along the bishops’ path
Boil butterfly peas’ petals with lemon
Drink
In the fire cast your shadow fourth
From the left and three paces west
Toward sunset
Seated in the same seat
squirming
working to make the stiff
straight wooden
back rest
mold to my spine.
The purple-haired pourer
situated
behind the bar, per usual,
the sweet older (potential) couple
propped up in their
booth–
neither of their yellow-hooded
raincoats leave their screens
as they sip the steaming
mugs in front of them,
the no bigger
than a step ladder
kiddo
glued to the pastry glass
drooling
as his grandma–
clothed in the most
perkiest pink
with a shimmering clip
clasping the hair
out of her rich
swampy green eyes–
pulls the clunkiest handful
of dusty quarters
from her beaded coin purse,
and your hand
graces the crevice
between my shoulder blades,
pulling me back
to your gaze.
Our
boy
Patrick,
grandson, that
is, spent time today
on his potty, asked for a book:
All Aboard (a most appropriate title). Despite
the three-year-old’s sound effects, we
set the book aside
and had to
conclude:
no
go.
It is Monday
I planned to paint
the concrete deck
behind my house but that
well-intentioned plan
must be put aside.
I could hide
my current plan
of writing about love that
reveals my past beck
and call feelings tainted
with their
fare-
wells.
Since the rain has arrived,
I will dig wet holes
and transplant eight tomato
plants and then I will go
down to Old Seventy Creek
and feed the minnows
beneath the bridge.
The morning after surgery,
everything tilts,
fluorescent light needling my eyes,
a monitor chirping out of time,
carts rattling past my door,
paper cuff tightening, releasing.
I drift between dream and interruption
as a nurse pricks my finger,
another counts my pulse;
the surgeon edges into view,
half-framed, already speaking:
you did great, all is well.
Words that hover then thin out,
like breath on glass.
I am only this:
present, alive.
The long, depthless quiet
let go its hold;
fear loosens
as morning gathers
in the corner of the room.
EMERGENCY
I watch you panic
over something small
you didn’t care about
yesterday.
OPEN SEATBELTS
Abandon your seat.
Run for the exit.
You don’t know
where it is, though.
GET OUT
When the alarm stops,
you realize…
The instruments failing.
And the alarms sounding.
Were your own.
In Texas,
outside the city limits
you had to get okay
with the taste of dirt
swirling upwards
from the ground,
where it had been
scorching slow…
baking in the sun
I used to squint
while out in the glare
extracting color
from the air
making high contrast
like film noir movies
that will always last
so stylish
black and white
Because
when the sun moves over Texas
there is always great drama
Once I had a beautiful voice, rising
to the height of angels where its allure
summoned mystery and wanderlust.
I believed in myself then
Life can be cruel; it can cut you down,
shred you into pieces that no longer
remember where you belong, with
only a trail of memory left behind
You become a husk cracking as it
dries, your broken spirit withering
while those who have used you gloat
that what was yours is theirs
I only sing in the woods now where
trees dance to my songs and sprites
with no voice to call their own giggle
that they know my secret
