“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
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...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...