not a poem

    not a poem


I write to you because of your blonde, long hair.
I write to you because we never talked.
But I don't write to part the blue sea.
I write to you so I don't guess stories that are yours to tell.
To meet you in the liminal space, at the skin of thought.
To let you step as a novice beside me.

[an offering]

            ***

Relax into the hillside panorama coveted by mist
with the courage of a pine tree, plunge into stillness,
ground the toes with quiet precision,
till the foot is grown over with muscle and moss,
get carried away by the mountain stream
with the lightness of gliding autumn leaves,
inhabit the doe leaping into the stage's legs,
fill the breast with another life, an offering.




---

With some help from D. and M.

riding the elephant

      riding the elephant


The man touched the trunk of the elephant and thought it was a rubber snake.
The man touched the leg of the elephant and thought it was a pillar.
The man thought of the bark that the elephant could eat,
of the roots. Of the crossing of the Alps.
Of the space elephants, cargo starships.
Of the false dawn that wakes you up for a shift.
The man thought of the brain of the elephant,
more transistors than cells in a human,
more dreams than from Scheherezade,
among them, a gentle game.
It's the man's move.
An option, touch the cold descent of his second orbit of Neptune.
An option, celebrate by inviting the woman for a drink in a French cafeteria.
An option, build more units to prop up the economy.
There is time enough
to plant willow trees
and soak in the rain.





---
With help from DSJ.

Earlier attempts for "to plant willow trees": "to plant the seeds", "to sow the tree seeds".

Seven of Nine

            Seven of Nine


Nine ducklings
Seventh the ugly duckling

The swan
forever attracting

of clarity

      of clarity

Run, run for the splashing train,

but pick the threads of tonality.

Settle in the denim sound,

rocky marks of a bridge pass by.

Spoon a vegan yogurt of berries,

scoop with the wrist the bottom notes.

Trains and raining.

Oh the reverie.

The sun-battered soil

wrung by the vines,

the practiced strength of the unseen,

like the lungs in a flute,

or the switching of hands in a melody,

the texture of the chords, the sapphire of grapes,

played not for the tasting.

The chime and the clearing in the sky

ask to tap one's way out through the crowd.

On the count of three, alight.

On the count of eight, slide through the puddle's smile.

Die Lichtung greets her fellow students.

The lecture starts. The topic is reharmonization.

Psycholinguistics of music.

Conceptualizing strategies for learning.

Cognitive and affective development.

Sociological intervention.

A dance studio decorated with unfolded fans.

Put on tap shoes over worn-through tights.

Write with percussive virtuosity

an invitation to attentive pupils,

clap in syncopation,

a Broadway polka

and a slide across.

Shower, streets and stairs.

Beetroots, beans and broccoli

or cauliflower.

Feeding the heart, sharing in the night.

---

Written October 3rd - 6th, small update 9th.

ideal glass

      ideal glass


in an aikido class
the sensei's rolls slow down
he becomes a white stone in the river

in an undersea movie
a torso of salt water
where is it going?
like a magnifying glass
exploring the room

the river moves in unison

silhouette

silhuette



            *

He who peels the curtain, confronts the light
on bare skin, he who transitions at each step
through the dark page, there to encompass him,
he who leads the way with courage
one grasp at a time,
he who lays his inner eye
on the quivering prize.

He who has outgrown his mother tongue
speaks of tomorrow,
poses a gap we face to answer.



            *

She walks funny in high heels,
both a bun and a bow,
she wears a short winter coat dress,
pins a purse under her elbow,
and she is so proud to be adult
it's adorable.

The shadows lengthen by the power line poles,
she walks home and pays no heed
to the welcoming of the feline creature,
her thoughts drawn to the drawing class
and the dreams that beckon
under her elbow.