Some Poems

Just some poems today, from my books. I can’t find a copy of my first book, a chapbook from Finishing Line called Rugged Means of Grace, but I’m sure I’ve got some around here somewhere, and will add one from that little volume.

Found

There’s a baby
in the crisped litter
of a roadside wood today, made pale
and lovely by an October snow.
Then even the skin is brittle.
It’s never the big thing
but the fine and permeative that destroys
often beautifully. How are we a thing that hates
and is so hard to hate?
There’s a boy
tucks a note into the pocket
of a coat he’s sending a stranger, saying
“Have a good winter. Please write back.”
A branch breaks, a lamp flickers,
the dog digs at a flash of something
paler than snow. A boy uncrinkles a note.
What happens next?

(from Perpetual Motion, The Word Works, 2012)

The dark is shifting almost imperceptibly

toward you. I know that much 
of endings. As usual I’m mistaken,
though, about what’s moving.
Not the dark onward but you
and I falling toward it, and sometimes
it is beautiful, fanned in flame,
and some days, as today, obscure.
Hymn so cautious will lead you
humming. I hope.

( from Glass Factory, The Word Works, 2016)

[While the day]

While the day is its own
autocracy, I am citizen
staring out at world,
touch the cool glass of rain’s 
mirror. Color deepens 
then fades, a slow flicker
as if I am blinking,
as I must open the eyes
inside myself to keep
democracy alive.

::

          the day is

                    world

         the cool glass of

          Color               

                   a      flicker

                 blinking

                          the eyes 

                       to keep 

                   alive

::

          the 

                     world

                        the eyes

                          keep 

                  alive

(from Being Many Seeds, Grayson Books, 2020)

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