Poem-A-Day #204 : Last Chance

Last Chance

All the trees in the world are trying
to keep this place locked and double-locked

The gates are chained and the path is
suddenly less clear there is no sky in the sky

I am rocked in its cradle - a colicked baby
I would have never suspected this of myself

Being able to tilt the cradle onto the floor
to muss the world until it is all blankets in furrows

Undo the ease of life and run a left-behind goose
in the midst of coming winter

The last chance Eleanor in some mythic story
rocks going only uphill etc etc etc

Excitement drowns the voices screaming from the lake
get out of here get away turn back re-lock

Turn tail goose the winter is not so bad
there will be shelter in some field or other

You will find a table to sit at that isn't vile
diseased or full of broken plates and your brother's flesh

Bones light as the air I cannot see
feathers and all that floating like dust on the wind

When the gate opens you will find yourself
moving without movement forwards always forwards

Poem-A-Day #103 : Wall (fragment)

Wall (fragment)

The view from the window is of a brown wall that softly curves at the top
a road extends from it into the distance
every car a sort of promise of something going on out there that is wonderful and good
the temptation to leap into it -

To go out the door - into the lot - the car - drive until the gas light comes on -

New-for-old

New-for-old 12/29

Sink the refrigerator into the water
with the door open two can sit comfortably
the otters will stare at us and wonder what
the hell we are doing but it won’t matter
we will be down stream before the water
line sinks us before they can get their
little oily fingers on us.