You might read the poem at Eclectica, where it was published with two companion pieces.
Recording of “Scarecrow Considers the Afterlife”
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Monthly Archives: April 2017
Destined by Gravity to Fail, We Try
Destined by Gravity to Fail, We Try
Having fallen from the roof not once, but twice,
I verify that it is not the fall but the sudden stop that hurts.
The objectivist sense of the little: the and a, my house in this world.
Galileo postulated that gravity accelerates all falling bodies at the same rate.
While their etymologies differ, failure and fall share commonalities,
though terminal velocity is not one.
The distance between the glimpsed and the demonstrated.
Enthralled in the moment, Icarus drowned.
Rumor has it his plunge was due not to melting wax but to an improper mix
of rectrices and remiges: parental failure.
Thrust and lift. Drag. Resistance.
Acknowledgment of form in reality, in things.
When the produced drag force equals the plummeting object’s weight, the
object will cease to accelerate and will move at a constant speed.
To calculate impact force accurately, include the stopping distance in height.
Followed by long periods of silence.
This first appeared on the blog in December 2015.
Recording of My Poem, “Icarus”
Icarus
Currents of breath, the slight curve and lift
within a single motion, once
poised then released as if to say
the wind is mine, or wait,
I am alone –
the story we most fear, not height nor gravity’s
fist, but to exist apart, shadow and
mouth, rain and smile, feather
and sun, all denials reciprocal,
each tied fast and renewed.
“Icarus” first appeared here in April 2016, and subsequently was published in The Basil O’Flaherty in November 2016.
Twilight
Ken G. writes about his dog. They bring us such joy, don’t they?
Twilight
No longer padding softly,
grace not a part of her
early twilight,
she paces,
looks,
as if listening.
But to what?
Answering
to hand prompts
when she sees them,
hearing is something
she barely remembers.
The pacing is short-lived.
She tires easily,
sleeps most of the time.
Watching her dream,
there are some things
she does remember.
Always thirsty.
Always.
Medication does that, but
also thirsty for attention.
If her tail is any indication,
she still loves life.
And those ears.
When they perk, she could
melt any heart.
She wants to be a border collie.
And, she will be.
For a little while longer.
Off-prompt for NaPoWriMo 2017 on Day 21 of National for Month/Global Poetry Writing Month.
Mushrooms I Have Known
Mushrooms I Have Known
Reticent and tired, withdrawn,
dejected, I return.
Emerging overnight from nothing,
then withering back to zero.
Does light incite you?
The shade?
I walk by and say hello.
You do not speak.
Two Places by Han Wo (translation)
Mary Tang does it again! Please check out her wonderful translations.
a robert okaji triptych
José Angel Araguz discusses a few of my poems… The Friday Influence is one of the first poetry blogs I discovered; I enjoy reading José’s Friday musings. And his poetry!
Mirror – Robert Okaji
The attraction is not
unexpected. We see
what is placed
before us, not
what may be.
The mirror is empty
until approached.
*
This week’s poems were originally published as part of the Origami Poems Project who create free, downloadable microchaps. “Mirror” and “Earth” (below) come from You Break What Falls, and “Sheng-yu’s Lament” (also below) comes from No Eye But the Moon’s: Adaptations from the Chinese. Both microchaps are availabe for free on Okaji’s Origami Poems author page.
What I enjoy about “Mirror” is how it engages the symbol of a mirror lyrically, so that the metaphysical connotations don’t weigh the poem down. Instead, the short lyric passes as quickly as a reflection, while its insights linger like light.
A similar engine is at the heart of “Earth.” Both poems deal with human presence and their implications. Where one fills the “empty”…
View original post 286 more words
3 Poems Up at Quiet Letter
I’m delighted to announce that three of my poems are live at Quiet Letter. The three (“Cutting Down the Anniversary Pine,” “Strollermelon,” and “Memory and Closets“), were written during the 30/30 challenges I undertook during the past two Augusts to raise funds for Tupelo Press, a non-profit literary publisher.
Recording of “In Praise of Rain”
In Praise of Rain
Which is not to say lightning or hail.
Sometimes I forget to open the umbrella
until my glasses remind me: Wake up, you’re
wet! If scarcity breeds
value, what is a thunderhead worth
in July? A light shower in August?
Even spreadsheets can’t tell us.
***
“In Praise of Rain” has appeared here several times, but this is the recording’s debut.
Tarantula
Tarantula
The patience of stone, whose surface belies calm.
Neither warm nor cold, but unfeeling.
It digresses and turns inward, a vessel reversed
in course, in body, in function, the
outward notion separate but inclusive,
darkness expanding, the moist
earth crumbling yet holding its form:
acceptance of fate become
another’s mouth,
the means to closure and affirmation
driven not by lust nor fear
but through involuntary will.
Neither warm nor cold, but unfeeling.
The patience of stone.
“Tarantula” first appeared here in February 2015.
O at the Edges 