Nocturne (Blue Grosbeak)
arrives to be seen?
of the day
comes and goes
in the same
more felt than heard.
The grosbeak sings
of a motion
blending with night.
The air is cool.
A leaf utters
its own message
Nothing awaits it.
* * *.
Posted in Perception, Poetry |
Tagged birds, creative writing, gardens, language, meditation, peace, philosophy, poems, poetry, writing, zen |
My poems “Self-Portrait as Never” and “The Real Question” are live at
. I’m grateful to editor Michael Prihoda for accepting these pieces. After the Pause
Arriving from nowhere,
its mouth opens
but what escapes
comes not from within
and is never complete.
Words, too, falter
in this space,
struggling to remain
aloft, challenged yet free,
between air and wing,
of sound and thought,
occurring as it must
or desire, simply
there, then gone,
a presence one notices
in its absence.
* * *
“Hummingbird (3) made its first appearance on the blog in December 2014.
(Hotel Eden) In Full Light We Are Not Even a Shadow
Which is to say clarity persists in
increments, in the silent space between
color and lens, within parables seen
in the incomplete: straw, hand. Imagine
white valued more than manner as hidden
thought remains obscured. Lower your eyes, lean
forward. Perspectives tilt towards the mean,
suggesting purpose. When we examine
intent, do we find it? The irony
of bottled cork, of sullied paradise,
a coiled wire, the parrot whose voice,
unheard, implicates us. What felony
must we commit to admit the device
in play? Pull or release? The mimic’s choice.
* * *
Notes: “In full light we are not even a shadow” is a line from Antonio Porchia’s
Hotel Eden is the title of a piece of art by Joseph Cornell. An image may be found here:
This made its first appearance here in March 2015.
Posted in art, Poetry |
Tagged art, birds, collage, creative writing, Ekphrasis, poems, poetry, questions, sonnet, writing |
With These Nine Figures
… and with the sign 0…any number may be written.
Leonardo of Pisa (Fibonacci)
We attain from emptiness and the Sanskrit
shoonya, from safira and sifr, zero.
As in unoccupied, as in void, as in what brims the homeland of null.
I once counted thirty-four black vultures orbiting my neighbor’s hill.
Despite appearing in Mayan codices, they neither sing nor cipher.
Fibonacci’s Book of the Abacus introduced the decimal system to Europe.
Regarding the tyranny of mathematics, is nothing something?
From alterity to belonging, its provenance assumes an absence of being.
Which is not to suggest xenophobia or superiority in order.
Whether depicted by empty space, wedges, or hooks, it held place.
Representation not of the object, but of its purpose, its path.
Black vultures do not smell carrion, but pillage from those that can.
Obliterative in the west wind, subtractive, unbound, they spiral.
Are the circlers in the sky symptomatic or merely symbolic?
Comparing negative infinity to its positive sister, I observe their way.
* * *
“With These Nine Figures” originally appeared, with a companion recording, in
Clade Song in summer, 2013. I had asked a friend for five or six words to use in a poem. She provided tyranny, emptiness, xenophobia, pillage and at least one other that I’ve forgotten. But it wasn’t nothing.
Posted in Poetry |
Tagged birds, creative writing, language, math, nature, numbers, philosophy, poem, poems, poetry, writing, zero |
Aubade (Inca Dove)
evokes the evolution of hand
and wing, a growth
reflecting all we’ve come
to know. Two doves
sit on the fence, cold wind ruffling
their feathers. What brings them
to this place of no
shelter, of wind and rain
and clarity defied? Fingers
often remember what the mind
complicates our mornings.
This last appeared here in February 2018, and was originally published in
The Balcones Review in 1987. Seems I was enthralled with birds back then, too…
Posted in Birds, Poetry |
Tagged birds, creative writing, gardens, meditation, mindfulness, nature, philosophy, poems, poetry, writing |
Wren canyons down the morning’s edge, proclaiming dawn.
Unpapered, unfettered, fearless, he abides.
I say “he,” but sexual dimorphism is not apparent in the species.
Accepting signals, we process and choose, freighting gender aside.
Listening requires contextual interpretation, as does belief.
Shrilling to the porch screen, he spears a moth, veers outward.
An acquaintance claims birds are soulless, existing only to serve God.
As temple bells exist solely to announce, and rain, to water lawns.
Faith’s immensity looms in the absence of proof.
Spherical and hollow, s uzu bells contain pellets.
The search for truth without error does not preclude fact.
Even tongueless bells ring.
“Diverting Silence” was published in
Taos Journal of International Poetry & Art in February 2017.
Posted in Poetry |
Tagged birds, creative writing, nature, philosophy, poems, poetry, reading, religion, Texas, writing, zen |