Apiary
My friend Sharon raises bees.
In her veil she cranks the handle
of the silver bee smoker
calming the hives.
Bearding, swarming
in the intimate harmony
in which nectar becomes honey
or beeswax candles for any altar.
Scouts return with tales of pollen.
The gilet jaunes
swirl around the point Zero
buzzing with anger at the money
the rich will spend
to...
The Fog of Pain
You told me not to worry. As many speakers would be along the way, entering through the different doors, could tell us about the stars’ songs, theories, and critical turns. But, do you know, in the rain-wet afternoon, among the full house audience, I was absent?...
NOSTALGIA OF A WORKNIGHT
She’s weary as an unused toy—unwrapped,
not touched. She’s not hidden but by herself
in back of a toybox, under the snapped
off arm of her last doll. She thinks a shelf
might be nice. She’d like to hear the soft click
as her nightlight went dark and slipped
into a sleep...
VERTIGO
The falcon soars far above us,
a denizen of light and air
circling different wind currents
in a vastness that eludes us
until he sees the smallest speck,
a rabbit emerging from its hole,
and he zooms down to capture it
in less than a minute -- like the vertigo
of parachuting words on the pages of...
The Trickster
Kokopelli, I know what I know.
You are the mysterious humpbacked
flute-playing Casanova of the cliff
dwellers of the American Southwest.
Kokopelli, you are the carousing
peace-loving traveling salesman
seducing women in villages with
your many gifts of music, dancing,
and mischief.
Kokopelli, having seen you in
ancient Anasazi glyphs and rock art;
and having spent time inside the...
A Fever of Living
Some nights step lightly,
like lily-shadows in blue water-
apparitions in transit, between dreams.
She awakens in a translucent purgatory-
a tread from an incipient dream
to a feverish slumber, to a body -
a map of nocturnal metamorphosis,
lacerated fish belly sewn with orange seams,
eyes like butterflies in rivulets of pee,
unmade and...
THE PARTY
Such a mix
at her party—
one worshiped
his own genius.
another was too flippant.
a third was
a freethinker,
a fourth, a savant.
The combination
could only be uncomfortable.
And throw in a hypocrite.
a born pessimist,
the usual boorish academics,
and even the weather
could not settle
on rain or sunshine.
Maybe
the party-giver
was asking too much,
relied on diversity
as a crutch.
ended with discordance...
Ode to Muezzins
Muezzins used to climb the minaret to make the call to prayer…
(after Stefan Kaegi)
Oh to be on call five times daily
and feat days
ready to roll
cocksure in your three-balled
alabaster minaret outpost
honeyed and hyssoped throat
nose to the windscreen
positioned just so
between your faith
and a vintage Shure 55SW anodyne mic
an array...
RIVERS
Should I multiply or divide my soul
in rivers under sheltering domes?
I have left bits of me
in the Elbe and the Rhine.
I have left liquid tears
in the lighted Seine.
Paris, Berlin, Dresden --
each city is an epic, a tome.
In rose gardens in the day
or beer-gardens at night
I have ranged and roamed.
The...
Along the River
We point out the different birds to one another.
Like teenage boys showing off their knowledge of astronomy.
Find goldfinches and cedar waxwings in the trees along the river,
tiny redpolls and grosbeaks chasing gnats down below.
In the water, cormorants lurk, wings spread like vultures
night-herons stalk lumbering carp in slow...
Tongues
I don't care if Jesus died for my sins
I tell my Sunday School teacher after
class, He'll have to do better than that to
get me to come back next week and then I
leave her without saying goodbye atop
the two-by-four-and-plywood porch of our
trailer-classroom, or is that our classroom
-trailer, whatever it is it has...
On Reflection
a silent tree frog
clings to broken shelves of stone
rippled by the breeze
water colors blend and blur
illusions of perfection
Beads
clusters of black pearls
press into the palms of clouds—
a broken necklace
that slips between my fingers
rains upon this garden path