Cosmogony
the first office was a sun
a great dirty star
overtaking the coffee-house
of our mother night
Poèmes sur le thème : sun
Poèmes sur le thème « sun » sur Poets.by.
Swan’s way
For the old swan,
staying in bed is
the custom; best
to rest where the sun
crossed the water.
To the old swan,
we tower and boat
like blind
stairs of lead.
Proverbial (13)
Sun on the water
shall never thirst.
An excellent cook took
the sacrament on his knees.
A captain forced to walk
ordered ships to carry horse.
Sphere of Wire
The first sphere of wire
through heat of the sun
drank a star.
In his silk cloak, the chairman made
the rest of the day a bed.
Into the Open
an empty space is still data
my phone reminds me
no space is truly empty
a falling leaf reminds me
the time of long shadows
has come ‘round again
cedar waxwings whistle
through bare branches
the low sun catches on wings
in lieu of leaves
rests in a red oak
undressing in the wind
and flickers like an angel
resisting temptation
to follow the leaves down
spinning spiralling
Leaves on Grass
we could’ve been albatrosses
drifting on the wind for years
able to dip into our shadows
which would’ve tasted like salt
we could’ve been playing cards
given darkness a respectable home
instead having loved the sun
and digested light for a living
we meet our shadows
only at death
lie atop them leaching out
our vital bitters
The Unlearning
first let go of the obscurer wildflowers
the quadratic formula
the plots of novels
you’ll never read again
it gets easier the less
you cling to things
do you need to know for example
how to make fire
or small talk
or change
the stomach forgets milk
feet forget the ground
eventually one surrenders
time itself
to the blur of eternity
a cat sleeping in the sun
Refined
having lost the off-
spring in your step
you stare mutely back
at whatever comes
on a gorgeous morning
on an old woods road
that is itself lost
disappearing into the forest
finding again
that old quarry
where a chipmunk
has sunk a shaft
and a giant millipede writhes
her road-self
coiling and uncoiling
it’s cold
A Brief Dispatch from the Anthropocene
sweating in the shade
the boulder and I
I’d shave my head
but it only brings the sun closer
closer still a mob of crows
re-convenes in my ear
iridescent midnight feathers
aimed at an owl
Slug Life
invasive slug
the wood pewee bending
his one note
cool morning
the sun catches a spider
patching holes
Sunset
sun settling on the sea
like a public head
I cannot understand
what I have been today
Leave-taking
the trees react to colder nights by stripping naked
the meadow too
it’s as if they’re about to set off somewhere
all excess baggage is left at the gate
the sun too is a budget traveler
abandoning most of the sky
the days are so quiet now
take me with you
even if there’s nowhere to go
even if it means leaving myself behind