The Frog

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on The Frog
Aug 122011
 
What's wrong
with this picture?
Scads

of lilies raised
above the muck the scum
floating

on golden
pond
--sheer light--

on one
a fat frog croaks--
Bhudda!  Bhudda!

to the
weeds and sky
eternally

his eyes
are old-fashioned
key-holes--

under sticky webs
lilies crimp-edged deep
ceramic green

pie-plates--
above each waves
a streaked pink-white

blossom
held up by nothing
save love

and in that no sense
of error
ever

To Bed

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on To Bed
Aug 122011
 
Such tenderness!
turning the lamp
red with a shell 
shade

down to a darkness
so complete I see
the moon
untouched

stars beginning where
the shadow of her hair
no longer
glows

Detail

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on Detail
Aug 122011
 
To love--to that
intimate measure
alone 

my life, monklike
is dedicated.
How long has it been?

Too long.
No more long hairs stuck
in the vacuum. 

The Rain

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on The Rain
Aug 122011
 
Especially
because the blue ipod
randomly zeroes

in on
our song, a Belle and
Sebastian number,

my tears
roll hot and rainlike down
the window

as if outside
a Florida hurricane continues,
blurring all

The Lie

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on The Lie
Aug 122011
 
And so there
is a lie a very
damnable

lie
--so what!?--it's all
one lie

after another
and then a muddy
grave--

heavy boots
of the mourners
thick

with grief--
while still a week later
daisies

grow right
where her face
had been

Two Soldiers

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on Two Soldiers
Aug 122011
 
Look beyond these 
stick trees
just past their 

thorny bramble see 
a jet
investigates heaven 

pristine
blue like the dome
blown apart--

so blue with the one
swollen
chalky marr 

where human curiosity
has so
amply intruded

The Companions

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on The Companions
Aug 122011
 
			to Dan Weeks
            
Two dogs
mangy manes a-shake
follow this river

for frogs.
First one then the other
stops

the friendly lips
serious a moment, long black
and still

a line
of fresh paint hastily
applied below

the snowcapped teeth.
Ah!  rings in the water
declare something

a few feet out.
Is it?  No matter--leap!
The froth

around them
ecstatic!  snapping! and then
slow to drink . . . .

They return poised
to the riverbank as if they
chased every raindrop.

The river
continues and they continue
to follow it.

The Thaw

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on The Thaw
Aug 122011
 
Brow of snow
on the small hill
melting

Thoughts come and go
shadows on the brow
seasonless

And sooner or later
more sooner it will be
summer

And night and moonlight
on the small hill
whiten

In Spring

 [Poetry], Wild Onions  Comments Off on In Spring
Aug 122011
 
there are the soggy remains
of winter
buckets

tipped over and then
lost to us this
world in the

first deep rush of snow
that now, like an
impossible

sweat has returned to the
moss & soil
pores

so that bloated the earth begins
to relax sink down
and decay