What can I say?I was a bad sunrise,quick scudded to cloudand withholding. Look at it this way,it was a great dayfor pictures,unshadowed,no hotspotsto burn awayin a dance. We were a functionreally, a shallowangle of incidence,a glancing blow,mathematic,not prismatic,no split beam,just one garishmorning thing, and a slowovercasttrundleto a setting. Image: Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash
Come winter the woods will forget my boots, Expunge my passage, deny me familiar, As if I never traveled there, climbed there The oaks, as low birches lurch among The poisons – ivy and sumac. And how is it that the sun finds blockage There, but not the muting snow, unbroken Over the bones of […]
Up there, in the brevities and rifting cloud something lures my eyes. For this dog is a blacker black than a slip moon night, but here, on this morn, the dim prevails. And the bending of wet leaves beneath her paws wager green hope, but they’re brown. I saw them yesterday. Yesterday, before the rain […]
How many schisms does it take to change a light bulb, that gray irritant in the shade, that fray behind diffused glass, incandescent once, but burned, but burned out? Twist the screw, damn you, dare you take the damn thing out and pop it on the floor, such joyous crack, this glass ever thin, this […]
