words: Open Studio Poem #3

Open Studio Poem #3:  USE THE WHOLE PAGE

The point is growth toward beginning.

Start againnothing flat or square

this time learn to move in three

dimensionscubic, spherical. Can you

write like a dancer? Paint

like an actor? Draw like

a potter? Remember knitting

how to turn a heel, shape

a sleeve from a strand.

DO THAT WITH WORDS.

USE THE WHOLE PAGE.

FILL IT WITH SHAPE AND

COLOR AND SOUND AND FLAVOR

BITTER GREENS AND HOT PEPPERS

AND LEMON ZEST.  WRITE 

BIG AND ROUND.

USE THE WHOLE PAGE

words: Open Studio Poem #4

OPEN STUDIO POEM #4

final   granite  light  synchronize

Rilke said, “No feeling is final.”

Not even granite is permanent—

it crumbles and weathers into parts.

And isn’t it a fine thing

that nothing stays the same?

Time is after all unsynchronized space,

shifting into shapes that cannot last.

Therefore, do not fret.

Keep your touch light,

or maybe don’t touch at all. 

Simply breathe.

AND NOW, A LOOK AT THE WORD “NORMAL”

AND NOW, A LOOK AT THE WORD “NORMAL”

 

Routine, yes? Common.  Usual. Ordinary. 

No surprises, no unplanned happenings. 

Nothing up this sleeve. 

 

No secret compartments,

mysterious strangers,

unexpected doors behind bookcases.

 

No white rabbits with pocket watches.

No huts on chicken legs.

No novel viruses, homemade

 

masks, curbside shopping,

No fairy godmothers. No friendly giants.

No geese laying golden eggs.

PSYCHE

PSYCHE

All right, the wind. Breath

of gods, spirits of—

the dead. essences invisible, 

 

lives of rocks and soils. 

What woods and barks and

mosses and grasses give

 

as they respire,

and asphalt and the milk

trucks and logging trucks

 

passing down the road 

at sunrise, and the sun,

above all.

 

After the night wind,

the morning breathing

of the sun.

VOWELS WITH MEGAN

A few years ago, I was mentor for a high school student working on poetry. We did assignments together. Here is my poem about the vowels.

 

A shaft of orange light, unexpected

before the end of

a long gray day

 

Eel black, luminescent

through the thick green river

 

I am winter-pale peach,

being, thatched with white and black

 

O luminous apple-green:

Mutsu, Greening, unripe Mac

 

YoU are fresh and blue,

tinged with the scent

of summer clover

 

And Y is it sometimes silver,

sometimes jade,

flickering just on the edge

of visible light?

 

 

Dec. 12, 2006

AN EXERCISE: PARTS OF SPEECH

ADJECTIVES

Early.  The gray
meows for his morning.
In the green
across the way,
still I hear the spring,
their shrill.
The soft, pink
have opened their fragrant
and the pale red bleeding
hang among the white.

ADVERBS

Fearfully, reluctantly, uncertainly.
Kindly, patiently, carefully, gently.
Slowly, gradually.
Eventually, tentatively, shyly.
More confidently, even eagerly,
laughingly, uproariously,
madly, wildly.