Friday, April 20, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Nothing all that good
The dead mouse in the road some cat dropped last
night when the moon wasn’t looking, the dawn wind
gathering a head of nothing you can put your finger
on and on it goes. The sad carnival brings a rusty cheer
to the little lives that trudge the weeds to get to the rides.
Some fields look better left empty than to be visited by
such dolorous dreams-be-gone. In your eyes, the light,
the heat warms up from the radio as we make our way
east past a group of people bearing a large wooden cross
along the roadside, Good Friday being an occasion for
nothing all that good to emerge or abstain from any of this.
Hawks have been hovering above me for days now,
another just last night on my way up the hill, skimming
the seaborne horizon pacing my silver sedan, our gazes
locked on one another. In the distance, a black circle of
sky scavengers wheel and rotate as if pinned to an axis of air.
Unto them is all given in the end and grateful go I hence
when that day should come. The moon sets like a pompous
messiah over the western ridge. Rabbits scurry brushward
and a roadrunner’s tail disappears down the draw in hurried
strides . Some consequence yet hanging in the dawn will
amass to deliver itself soon enough. I will wait and practice
the noble art of patience and hope it arrives sooner rather than.
April 6, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
For no other reason
You don’t need a reason to canoe in Indonesia.
Getting upriver is enough. What might become
an unexpected turn is merely a throughway to
the next moment and that is all you need to know.
Life isn’t anything like this. It is what you can neither
imagine nor expect to imagine. What slips by on the
banks matters only for the time it is passing off the side
of your seeing, and for maybe some moments afterward.
Omens and portents, indications and conclusions, rise
like equatorial weather to evaporate into forgetting.
As everything in your small boat becomes what navigates
you to the next star, one learns the nature of necessity.
Canoes matter more than reasons and reasons may
just compromise your canoe. One might do better
with both or neither. Sometimes you have to get out
and walk for no other reason than to get out of the boat.
March 22, 2012
Monday, April 02, 2012
From somewhere to nowhere
[Art] means nothing if it simply decorates the dinner table of the power which holds it hostage. ~Adrienne Rich
The Power Which Holds Hostage
barren hills with a lazy brook leaking through and a rickety
bridge crossing from somewhere to somewhere else.
Now place a cow with misshapen legs grazing the thin
green, a bird doing nothing on a stretch of fence that keeps
nothing in or out, a mere afterthought of poor composition.
Take this life and set before it an ordinary table plated
with common things we take in every day, porkchops
and canned peas, white bread and dying yellow butter.
Look out the window and see nothing too undifferent
from the framed scene you set yourself in every day,
the same clouds passing from east to west and back.
Now say to yourself aloud: I am here by my own choosing,
held fast by nothing more than mere will or lack of it, a
happy hostage to my own chosen sense of what is and isn’t.
March 29, 2012