Showing posts with label Indian summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indian summer. Show all posts

Friday, September 30, 2016

Totem poll


The final straw of September twenty-
ninths slit of smirking Black Moon-
the Indians have hung onto summer
with the same tenacity as their water dances
around the fire-I feel-
too long, feathered, and hot.
Sweltering shaded shelters there are none,
and I am white, weak and wrong,
along native latitudinal lines
not strong enough to weather
this Fall-
the pressure is too high to let go.

It makes me want to tear off my clothes
and immerse this blue skin in the sixty-three degrees
Pacific ocean
pacific specifically
calm
cool
collected.
................
September is succumbing to
October who strikes us sober.
Chill.
Breaths like poetry help acclimate me
in worlds like Autumn.





By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

The Cat and the Cow: The Lion and the Bull


The power of prediction
no longer resides
in mystical lands

The art of contradiction
where truth often hides
with red hands

One guess is good
a stab in the dark
betting it all on black
the sun will be back
                                tomorrow

Then there are facts
seasons in tidy groups
Again with the loitering Indians
                                  of Summer

We map the lines
plot blocks of time
to build with, tiny day squares
                                  not one cloud cares

What month is it now
Does the sky show us how
Where to get where we
                                  should be by now

A stampede of March storms in
lions guard the gate
unable to keep the thunder and rain
                                   high and away

Moody March cedes to the Sun
with a Spring in her step
Leo moves over after having his
                                    pray fun

Bleating lambs in cowardly shear
flocked in wool coats
Bah-hing about the verdant green grass
                                     over there

Aprils cup is too full
Slushing, spilling about into stream
slurping the porous sky

Is there a pattern
Do you see one
Is it almost summer

Even the water moves
the matador toward Taurus
trapped in the ring, circle, cycle
                                          of seasonal bull.

                           

Feature image by By Desptop (Own work), Macedonian Lion [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

And then...

  Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign,  at first...