Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Here is a door

Here is a door. Or, rather, four letters. A word.
The word opens. Light enters. A cloud. A storm. A bird.

The bird bears a message. Or, rather, the message bears her.
Four letters, four doors, four storms, four birds.

Forever. And on. Infinite doors. Letters.
Clouds. Storms. Messages. Birds.

No hands. No knobs. No frames. No walls.
Only doors. Infinite words.

Light enters. Where was it before?
No one has mentioned the dark.

No night. No veil. No blinds.
Once were. Then are.

No time. See how they fly.
Dark enters. Light. Light, as a word.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Canvas 453

Canvas 453

October 20, 2014

Upon a stream

Whence this scene, a blessing of your mind,
yet lived in, acted upon, admired, by other minds?

Whence this leaf, upon a stream,
soon departed, which remains?

And before you say, “old-fashioned,”
whither, save in kind, will ever, be the same.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Canvas 452

Canvas 452

October 19, 2014

The words you utter

How the words you utter, utter you.

How they grow, then ripen, on the vine.

How they color, and fall, when it’s time.

How bright, the birds, come to dine.

How blue, how clear, the sky.

How flight, is true, by design.

How love, makes you, from your mind.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Canvas 451

Canvas 451

October 18, 2014

Canvas 450

Canvas 450

October 18, 2014

The ghost of a chance

In the old family album, comes that turn in the dance,
where you, are the ghost, of a chance. By her wings, in his glance,
just as we find them — do you see what you couldn’t,
now that they can’t?

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The perfect place

The perfect place, a cedar jewel box
for a grave; a thousand ways forgotten, save
the one that stays; a leaf that speaks for autumn;
sinks deep, the pin, the blood,
to spring.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Canvas 447

Canvas 447

October 15, 2014

Tell me

If you cannot see the beauty, in your beard,
in your body, in the brevity, abundance, or absence,
of your own tender breasts; the down, or the scar,
or the curve, of your back; if you fear this;
then, tell me; where does fear end,
and where, does beauty,

Note: two poems today; the first, “Child, hold your lantern,” is here.

Child, hold your lantern

I am a wind-tossed hill;
you are a poet of painted leaves;
child, hold your lantern, still;
if not in this, then what
will we believe?

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

How, in a way

How, on a map, you find this word, and that word,
and how, on a face, you find rivers, rails, and towns.

How, in a word, you find this place, and that place,
and how, looking back, you find ways, to carry on.

How, in a way, you find this face, is that face,
and how, in your place, they find words, of their own.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Canvas 446

Canvas 446

October 13, 2014

Out of pain

Out of pain, a little breath, and back again.
Face, hands, neck, limbs, the lungs of sacrificial lambs.
Into grace, clamber for your lap again.
Man his wife, woman man.
Girl boy again.

Face, hands, neck, limbs.
A little pain, out of breath, and back again.
Clamber grace, wife her boy, girl man.
The lungs of sacrificial lambs.
Into your lap again.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Canvas 445

Canvas 445

October 12, 2014

Chew well this apple

Chew well this apple charged with stardust,
exhale your sweet, blind breath,

by all the light that’s in you,
go down, go down,

this is your