Window Open, Closed
We enter daylight in the shape
of praise, little words
billowing through wire mesh. Across
the highway a busboy questions time
and the concept of never, while
someone plucks leaves from the bay
tree and plans her day. Roger Bacon
longed to manipulate the inner essence
of inanimate objects, to harness their force,
and a lonely man swallows prescription drugs
deliberately, releasing their attributes over time.
My eyes redden from juniper pollen as the moon
spins invisibly above our roofs, tugging at the
clouds. I once traced in a building of music
the organ’s sound to the woman I longed
to attract. Now, the window prevents the passage
of solids, but waves penetrate. I spread my fingers
across the glass, but feel no vibrations. Distant
sirens announce a procession of cause and intent,
of carelessness and indecision. Somewhere a voice rises.
* * *
This originally appeared during Bonnie McClellan’s 2015 International Poetry Month celebration, and is included in The Circumference of Other, my offering in the Silver Birch Press chapbook collection, IDES, available on Amazon. A recording of the poem may be found on Bonnie’s site.
O at the Edges 
I love the sense of things moving both together and apart….
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Thanks, Dan. Life is like that. 🙂
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I spread my brain wide open hoping to take all this in together … knowing there’s more between your lines but nevertheless delighted with the vibrations that topple in on top of one another … a mix of your words and snippets of past encounters … Thank you!
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Our various passages through time are connected, yet we’re also solo points on those wavy lines. I contemplate this oddness often.
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I love the way you describe your observations of life going on all around you through the safety of the window with the mesh barrier. Beautiful! Love Joni
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Thanks very much, Joni. There’s so much always going on around us…
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So true. Have a blessed evening. Love 💕 Joni
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