Pages
▼
Monday, October 20, 2014
A letter in October
BY TED KOOSER
Dawn comes later and later now,
and I, who only a month ago
could sit with coffee every morning
watching the light walk down the hill
to the edge of the pond and place
a doe there, shyly drinking,
then see the light step out upon
the water, sowing reflections
to either side—a garden
of trees that grew as if by magic—
now see no more than my face,
mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,
startled by time. While I slept,
night in its thick winter jacket
bridled the doe with a twist
of wet leaves and led her away,
then brought its black horse with harness
that creaked like a cricket, and turned
the water garden under. I woke,
and at the waiting window found
the curtains open to my open face;
beyond me, darkness. And I,
who only wished to keep looking out,
must now keep looking in.
~~~
Wow!!! I mean, awesome!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
Centrifugal
CENTRIFUGAL
by Douglas S. Jones
The spider living in the bike seat has finally spun
its own spokes through the wheels.
I have seen it crawl upside down, armored
black and jigging back to the hollow frame,
have felt the stickiness break
as the tire pulls free the stitches of last night's sewing.
We've ridden this bike together for a week now,
two legs in gyre by daylight, and at night,
the eight converting gears into looms, handle bars
into sails. This is how it is to be part of a cycle—
to be always in motion, and to be always
woven to something else.
~~~
Wednesday, October 01, 2014
a bird dives - haiku
a bird dives
wings scattering light
a worm dies
a worm dies
turns into bird wings flight
earth meets sky
earth meets sky
hurtling through a space field
a pulsing orb
a pulsing orb
that appears and disappears
nothingness
~~~