Showing posts with label A Hundred Gourds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Hundred Gourds. Show all posts
Thursday, June 02, 2016
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 5:2, March 2016
my chest
fills with dried leaves
that rustle
each time I try
to say your name
a carpet
of floating cranberries
these jewels
in the bog's ruby crown
riches enough for me
such brightness
beyond this wooded path
the clarion notes
of indigo buntings
singing down the sky
fills with dried leaves
that rustle
each time I try
to say your name
a carpet
of floating cranberries
these jewels
in the bog's ruby crown
riches enough for me
such brightness
beyond this wooded path
the clarion notes
of indigo buntings
singing down the sky
Saturday, January 23, 2016
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 5:1, December 2015
thunderheads
a squabble of crows
in the larch
antelope
grazing on sagebrush
at first light
the horizon stitched
to an infinitude of sky
I squeeze the sun
between my index finger
and my thumb
until the last drop of light
is swallowed by the water
a squabble of crows
in the larch
antelope
grazing on sagebrush
at first light
the horizon stitched
to an infinitude of sky
I squeeze the sun
between my index finger
and my thumb
until the last drop of light
is swallowed by the water
Thursday, October 29, 2015
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 4:4, September 2015
apogee moon
in the deep distance
your light
making the least
of every shadow
in the deep distance
your light
making the least
of every shadow
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 4:3, June 2015
fare thee well
my own true love
when i sing
those songs of home
a thrush flies from my mouth
my own true love
when i sing
those songs of home
a thrush flies from my mouth
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 4:2, March 2015
my one
and only wing
a white sail
splitting the wind
into pelican dreams
frazil ice
on a mountain lake
at breakup
the tinkling chimes
signal your departure
and only wing
a white sail
splitting the wind
into pelican dreams
frazil ice
on a mountain lake
at breakup
the tinkling chimes
signal your departure
Monday, July 20, 2015
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 4:1, December 2014
a blue fan
unfolding in the distance
so many hills
we meant to climb before
they became mountains
small birds
lifting the rim of night
with music
in silent meditation we listen
to the singing bowl of morning
a gypsy wind
strumming halyards
in the marina
we dance by the light
of a tambourine moon
unfolding in the distance
so many hills
we meant to climb before
they became mountains
small birds
lifting the rim of night
with music
in silent meditation we listen
to the singing bowl of morning
a gypsy wind
strumming halyards
in the marina
we dance by the light
of a tambourine moon
A Hundred Gourds, Number 3:4, September 2014
scattered
beneath the roses
these questions:
are you not more than ash
am i not more than rain
an owl
asks me who I am
every night
mother repeats
the same question
beneath the roses
these questions:
are you not more than ash
am i not more than rain
an owl
asks me who I am
every night
mother repeats
the same question
Sunday, July 19, 2015
A Hundred Gourds, Number 3:3, June 2014
a starling
m u r m u r a t i o n
sifting the sky
she recalls the moment
her life changed shape
the child
who never speaks
telling stories
we learn to listen
with our hands
m u r m u r a t i o n
sifting the sky
she recalls the moment
her life changed shape
the child
who never speaks
telling stories
we learn to listen
with our hands
A Hundred Gourds, Number 3:2, March 2014
bats dart
in and out of light
skywriting
we no longer speak
each other's language
in and out of light
skywriting
we no longer speak
each other's language
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
A Hundred Gourds, Issue 3:1, December 2013
delivered
to your opening door
in mason jars
of wild plums and fireflies
you hold me in your hands
speaking
in tongues of tides
the call and answer
of moon and sea
our words becoming sand
to your opening door
in mason jars
of wild plums and fireflies
you hold me in your hands
speaking
in tongues of tides
the call and answer
of moon and sea
our words becoming sand
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