Tree, Ice, Window (December 13, 2000)

Tree, Ice, Window (December 13, 2000)

I.

This doubling of age,
increments gained, like a shadow’s

flesh, ever flowering, ever diminishing,
consuming all.

And having gained stature,
what of the syllables lost in the blur,

the fecund process
unnoticed, unheard.

Reciprocity of motion, the leaf’s descent.

II.

Bent under the hour’s weight, it
departs untouched,

aloof,
yet watched and not alone,

enduring its slow release
as the morning deepens.

III.

The eyelid droops, then opens,
defying gravity and those things heavier than air,

and opening, rescinds
all notion of secrecy.

Somewhere the voice expends its energy
and lies fallow,

like a storm awaiting the perfect
moment, then appears

in all its arterial splendor,
tunneling through the night’s long reach

and the transparent dream.
Or a hand draws the shade.

 

An older poem, from the “vault.” I barely remember writing it.

15 thoughts on “Tree, Ice, Window (December 13, 2000)

  1. The vault! Love that designation! Amazing how we were such different people so long ago that an old (wonderful!) poem seems written by another hand….transparent dream indeed

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I like the image of the eye here…it does reveal secrets, doesn’t it?
    Not only do I not remember writing things, I can’t remember making much of my art. I can’t blame it on old age–my mind has always been a sieve. (K)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I now know for certain that I need to remove my brain, jiggle its parts around, and reinstall it in order to write poetry this beautiful, lose it to time, then recall it in later years as immature. It’s good to have something to strive for.

    Liked by 1 person

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