Just don’t say that—for I would sketch the chalice of time, not the compromise— for trees do fly, old father. It’s true. The sap that can climb the cellular ladder— with leaves and birds, the old artifacts, the spiders and flies, bugs and caterpillars that can fuel arcs of light and arcs of flight— wouldContinue reading “Trees Do Fly, Old father…”
Mary, another beauty, Bethany—from Beth and Anthony—the Bethlehem Babe, who sings while we sleep, and cries when we wake. A giant child made to look so much bigger than she could possibly be. The surprise of spring, elevated by our high- toned songs and heightened language. Our warrior—once copied by spitting chewed and salivated earthContinue reading “What Emerges”
To the two Johns, Jan, Janus, and Jane (all others overhear): Here I propose a toast to the prose/ poem divide: prose is so natural, we get it all at birth. And so poetry must be music justified, each word justified, each word music, all a part of the composition the world admits. Before youContinue reading “All Others Overhear”
raise grief to music –Louis Zukofsky We populate earth and death in an attempt to inform humanity— its scent, its sentence, its poetry. And blessed be singers who sing of man, woman and child, the antenna of provocation, an obsession of dust, among wild bones… The jaw drops. You earn your vocabulary. The arm besideContinue reading “Annunciation Song”
The great train goes by like a great but grainy owl, like a black-and-white two-reeler that’s both a movie and a mnemonic—oh yes!— each view a polished memory, each stop, each station, each picket fence, every tree a hiding dryad! (Freddy’s read his Keats.) He smiles. We’ll go easy on the dryads. It seems thereContinue reading “Freddy goes to Florida”
As Freddy dreams—the sunshine on the grain, the sunshine on the corn, a coin drop in one’s own mimetic bucket, so to speak, this—portal— this great backyard—opens. Oh, I adore it, he thinks, laying back. It is summer. It is. How summer it is.