Filling the space below the shingles since 2008

Sunday, July 12, 2009

so it's been a while

and i figure the best way to crack back in is to drop a poem or two and run. But I'll be back soon -- i'd love it if someone could give me a refresher as to how to access the g-doc posts w/ comments. Powell525@gmail.com


Ars Poetica

Through the 66’s line,

the rain-fog persisting

its glaze on my glasses

and beard, first in my bag

then my calves

the inexorable lightness –

until my heels lose

their soggy click, the asphalt

an oil-slick of offhand

metaphor subjected also

to this inexorable lightness –

I recall poems of a woman

gone wholly into the air

and report them now

with a journalist’s deadpan

I will be another casualty

another police report: a rather

conspicuous man broke

into an abandoned cinema

2:00 am Saturday

and now floats

in self-imposed stasis

over the pike

bridge without the presence

of mind even to light

a cigarette. He is sentenced

thus far to rearrange the faces

of rush hour commuters

into a more reasonable expression

of collective regret

and expectation.

Agreed?

The Voyeur in Love

A siren in the rain. The pacing thread

of a neighbor cleaning.

Water in pipes,

running its white music,

drowses you.

Screen door, a yellow-lit

frame two floors up.

A woman in pig-tails

instructs a child. The child

has ironed her hair.

Your room has one bed, and one desk,

and one window.

They leave and return,

cradling baskets

of linen. You rub your chin.

The pig-tailed woman

unknots her hair.

You scratch your scalp.

She inches her skirt up.

You’ve been told you have a heart

for nothing

and believed it. The girl

has thrown darts

and hit wall.

The neighbor has finished

cleaning or fallen asleep.

You are alone again, surrounded

by more books

than you will ever read.

The women have taken

the child and the light

remains on. They fill

cereal bowls, somewhere –

they coddle one another

to prime-time TV.

Suppose you’d have anything

and for that will

have nothing.

Suppose the window has opened

and you’re lost

to the breeze. Suppose

you’re being watched.

1 comment:

Kate said...

after reading ars poetica several times, i realized i never really knew the definition of 'inexorable.' it's perfect choice because despite the motion of the language, i'm worried for the duration that the speaker will never fully take off. there's tension. i like it.