Posts Tagged ‘Sun’

Important Enough to Sit Still

Posted: April 27, 1993 in Poetry
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heated with rose wine
from a big cheap bottle,
I immerse myself in beach sand.
full and sun-warm,
like the fat flavored wine,
like Mediterranean sea-air;
I remember through the hiss of the surf
how it was like blood down the back of my throat,
that wine,
and how I must have been meant to drink blood on the beach.

Another Song for a Cure

Posted: March 26, 1993 in Poetry
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when the sun sets and the lights come out
in the beachfront homes I walk alone
to clear my head and cut the sting
of the thoughts the end of the day brings
they swim alongside my walk, my pace
a school of dolphins who splash my face;
I don’t always enjoy what they do to me,
making me think things over carefully –
it is they who really write my poetry.

I never knew how much I cared
for anything – not until I finally dared
to lose it all by telling the truth
seeing what came out when I opened my mouth.
I’m still waiting for the water to clear,
for the echoes to fade so that I can hear
what I’m doing and what I’ve done so far;
with what monsters I must continue to spar,
the attention I give to particulars…

A Sunrise over the Phone

Posted: March 19, 1993 in Poetry
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I am the anvil that rings
with each hammer falling,
a star impacting, exploding, desiring, denying
that I love so deep, so much;
I feel when I hear you hurt, your voice
like butterflies in my ears,
the tautness of a drum
within my heart.

Geoff, Laura, Joe, Brian and I
went to the river to play outdoors
and to sing, sing ho for this, the life of a bear.
warm rocks, chilly water, and a rope
were for flinging ourselves through the air.
the sun and the wind bathed us in yellow hues.
music from the car ran its fingers
through the roadside oaks,
anticipating every curve,
and setting the bones that Brian broke.
wriggling our way over the mountains,
we witnessed a weaver of wood.

Falling Violin-Strings

Posted: April 26, 1992 in Poetry
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the rain-sheets of water are hung out
like grey laundry from the clouds.
she dances through them
like they’re stage curtains,
smiling to the waltz, the music,
of the hidden sunshine and thus
for the joy of the rain.

in the photograph,
taped at the corners,
we were caught falling
into the river with smiles
and half-closed eyes;
flowers were falling
on the glossy surface
in the middle of the white album page,
shifting the reflection of the sun.
outside the open oak-framed window,
shining over the tall broad-leafed trees,
and the clouds spiraling away
falling over the edge of the world.

Untitled Poem #-14

Posted: January 10, 1992 in Poetry
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I stopped after the rains
to listen to the silver frogs chanting,
who I could never find
when I wanted to watch them sing.

I could hear their beautiful piping
from my little room,
and I fell asleep to their chorus
in the light of the sun setting.