Beyond the Pale
Waking up to this (actually to all three of the poems) in a still-dark hotel room with my family sleeping, typing away as quietly as I can, is like waking up to a new, really significant snowfall, all beauty, perfect balance and no footprints yet. It's all pleasure and privilege.
spring bringsme to the riverjust like the tide bringsthe driftingcastoffsorwinter breakagesvalued onceas somethingusefulnow it rotsunless a poem saves itorthe drifterreclaims itfor her dinner
Thank you Curtis and Zev. Yes, that's exactly the purpose, and hopefully the product: to scatter some light things adrift, and hope they will settle somewhere in some such way as to create for someone(s) some sort of thought or meaning or (well, this last objective is the real key to the whole project), at the very least, some small moment of pleasure.(And by the way, speaking of literal snowfall, there is talk that we may actually get some of that here later today, in with the usual mix of wind, rain and hail...)(And lest I forget: "winter breakages" = a phrase to keep in one's pocket like a small smooth stone, and rub occasionally, hoping for a touch of reverse good luck.)
Tom,"when night is coming on" -- and then in a few hours it's getting light again . . . .4.11first grey light in sky above shadowedwall, white curve of moon above branchin foreground, sound of cars in street there is something, what is then approached as if to picture, patterned frame, as to deceive the eyewhiteness of cloud in bright blue sky,bird perched on branch across from it
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