I have three poems up at Nine Muses Poetry, a new online poetry journal out of the UK. Many thanks to editor Annest Gwilym for taking these poems.
Three Poems at Nine Muses Poetry
36
Calm
Calm (after H.D.)
I flow over the ground,
healing its hidden scar–
the scar is black,
the bedrock risen,
not one stone is misplaced.
I relieve the ground’s
burden with white froth,
I fill and comply—
I have thrown a pebble
into the night,
it returns to me,
settles and rises,
a white dove.
* * *
“Calm” is included in my micro-chapbook Only This, which is available via free download from Origami Poems Project. It made its first appearance here on the blog in March 2015, and was written as an exercise, using a poem, “Storm,” by H.D. as the launching point. I’ve tried to emulate her diction and rhythm, with mixed success. Still, it’s fun to try these on occasion.
Jose Padua: Self-Portrait in the Form of a Chalk Outline on the Concrete Belly of America
Read this gift from Jose Padua!
Jose Padua is a dish best served cold with onions,
mushrooms and tomatoes in a light broth and
accompanied by a rich lager with subtle aftertones of lemon.
Jose Padua is Arnold Swartzenegger’s imagined tumor
in Kindergarten Cop right when his headache is
at its most painful and the students are ready to revolt.
Jose Padua is the citizen who doesn’t look like a citizen,
the American who doesn’t look like an American, the
human being who doesn’t look like a human being except
in the looming darkness between the last of the previews
and the beginning of the feature film, that precious time
when the prospect of being entertained puts us all
on what the industry calls “a level playing field.”
Jose Padua is a plastic container of air freshener
shaped like a cone that’s run out whatever makes
the almost but not quite pleasant smell that makes
a…
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Jack Underwood’s Essay “On Poetry and Uncertain Subjects”
In his essay “On Poetry and Uncertain Subjects” in the May 2018 issue of Poetry, Jack Underwood discusses uncertainty and “the empathetic negotiation of meaning between poets and readers.” No wonder I so often feel uneasy yet somehow comforted before, after, and while writing…
Recording of Requiem II
Requiem II
To say what becomes: this word
bends in the wind of our
breath. Is this too simple to
say? Our bodies gather yet retain
nothing. Numbers, phrases, the way
the ocean rolls. Once I saw
a whale at dusk. Or rather I saw its
tail part the water and disappear
into darkness, an answer too complex
and sweet for tongues to comprehend.
But waves seldom explain. Imagine
something nearby but beyond reach.
Think of clouds and shrines, consider light.
“Requiem II” last appeared here in June 2017.
“Bittersweet” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/
Poem Up at The High Window
My poem “Five” is included in the summer edition of The High Window. Many thanks to editor David Cooke for taking this piece. The issue is spectacular – I’m delighted to have a poem appear in it.
RO
Ro
When this note fades
will it join you in that place
above the sky
or below the waves
of the earth’s plump
body? Or will it
circle back, returning to
my lips and this
hollow day
to aspire again?
Note: Ro designates the fingering required to produce a particular note on the shakuhachi, the traditional Japanese bamboo flute. In this case, closing all holes.
Elegy
This elegy/ode is a must read for all you coffee drinkers!
Always you, until this morning.
You on the day breaking fair,
the enormous earth singing up
the sun through the soft, small
mouths of a hundred finches.
You on the day dawning foul,
my mind already choked by
ashen apparitions of all that
should not have happened.
Always you.
The throaty sound of your work commencing,
coaxing my ears from fitful sleep,
the water warming and pulsing
through the rich black grounds
that call me to begin, again.
All my life, only you knew how
to make the bitter sweet.
Oh, your fragrant breath,
your dark embrace of the awakening tongue!
Oh, your unflagging confidence,
contagious to my being:
Only drink, and this day
you can rise.
Always you.
You on the days the lover left,
and returned, and left.
You on the days the kittens played;
you on the days
the old cats died.
Always you, through
the births…
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Recording of “Shadow Charm”
Shadow Charm
When you place your mouth
to my ear
how does the ocean know
which wave
to relinquish?
In your darkness I find teeth.
Blessings of the meek-throated.
A ribbed tunnel. Codicil.
Your tongue scrawls: too late,
the unsaid nerve-sparked and
dilated too late
And my skin replies: with
lightning all strikes
count to each its charge
“Shadow Charm” was published in August 2017 in The Icarus Anthology.
May 18
C’s language, like the evening in the poem, is perfectly crisp.
A crisp evening
the pasta perfectly al dente
light clinging to the sky
like legs of wine
finally quiet
caesura–
and no one claps
through the pause–
everything in harmony
except that door, ajar
O at the Edges 