after Rilke
Lord, how we privilege this season
of blushing fruits and yellow dreams
poem
Paradoxical or how to read a poem
in a poem weather’s never weather, there’s something other:
behind that cloud, transitory; in back of sunshine, egg.
if it’s raining, it’s not raining; if it’s bright it’s harsh
if the valley’s brimmed with fog, well maybe…
not your touch (negative space)
to the light of September
the tender trap
hang ears in chandeliers
tie cams to hummingbird wings
bribe the barista & delivery guy
badger dormouse & eavesdrop on
spidey’s sticky lines
midwinter (out my window)
(after William Bronk)
back then was much the same
the scope, the skies:
blues and greens, scarlet cloud-tops
the moon electric on the washing line. Continue reading
Decision tree
in Frost’s wood two paths diverge
— life/regret as
Bayesian algorithm. Continue reading
13 ways of looking at a pandemic
(after Stevens, closely)
I
Among twenty locked-down blocks,
the only moving thing
was the patrol car. Continue reading
The castaways
A lovers discourse
after Barthes
My language trembles with desire.
It is as if I had words instead of fingers
(or fingers at the tips of my words). Continue reading
