6/26/2019 0 Comments The end of June and water skippersThese long days are an invitation to sit by a pond and contemplate nature. In my pond there is a city on legs, and here is a poem on those thoughts.
Rings upon rings as if a torrent of rain wants to drown this pond. —Get close and see. These ripples, not of rain, but water skippers! A city on legs balanced on the skin of water. In a game, or maybe a war, of meet and retreat. The smaller ones race for a brief connection, in a second secrets are shared new circles inflate, shimmer and fracture the calm of a cloudy day distort the mirror of trees a vibration of braches making the summer dance, this is the hallucinogenic power of waking on water.
0 Comments
I have been thinking a lot about my father lately. Maybe is because of Father’s Day, maybe because of the transient nature of our existence in this short-lived planet. Regardless of the reason, reading Sandeep Jauhar’s book ‘Heart A History,’ inspired this new poem. I hope you will enjoy it.
The organ as a heart I want to see the depths of my father’s heart, the confusion of failed arteries, the atrophy of muscle from a life filled with the spoils of regret. I know it is just a pump, no ‘virtue spirits’ there, still, I struggle to hold on to Galen’s view, and pretend to know my father cared for me in the caverns of those now-empty chambers. I want to walk in its darkness hold the softness of those walls, to find its sentiments, as flawed as the man that carried it. |
Archives
August 2024
Categories |