Illusion hillssmoke signals further visionblanket memory, summer-warmconsciousness dreaminga boulder for a pillowbattling angelsto climb ladderseverything leaves a marklow-rounded, still-sacredsome of those illusionscarry ancient namessome of them carrythe bones of the sky I love how mountains fade into the distance, how it hardly seems real. This poem is the second one I wrote for the polaroidContinue reading “Smokies, 2”
Tag Archives: ekphrastic poetry
Blue Beach
the boy doestricks the woman stands watchingthe sand is too foot-steppedto notice the camera makesthem all silhouettes watchingthe sand is everywhereplaying tricks This poem is a companion piece to the one I published on Tupelo Press’ website today for the August 30/30 Project. You can read the other poem (a villanelle) here: Guess who finallyContinue reading “Blue Beach”
Pine
Padded quiet morning, herewhere life has barely thawed outthe birds wait to raise a cheer to summer. Sunshine appearswith warmth, flexing its new cloutin the padded morning. Here and there flying bugs appearbut the earth-dwellers have doubtsand birds wait to sound the cheer. Chased by needling cold fearspine doesn’t worry aboutmuch here, soaks up theContinue reading “Pine”
A Poetry Marathon!
Friends, I have exciting news! For the month of August, I am taking part in a 30/30 project for Tupelo Press, a non-profit, independent publisher. What does that mean? I’ll be writing, and publishing, a poem-a-day for the entire month, and, in return for the gracious support of the Press, I will be doing myContinue reading “A Poetry Marathon!”
Wreckers
Shore birds with thearms and legs of industryrushing gush for tidal plunderhalf blinded drownedby beating spraysteam and groanon the horizon with theheave ho of group effortalways the sea willreturn to wash overwhat remains This is the final ekphrastic poem from the exhibition of Turner paintings at the Kimbell Art Museum earlier this year. HERE youContinue reading “Wreckers”
Waterloo
The field of death illuminatedLight suspended, in suspensionpigment in medium,applied, brushed and varnishedbut not glossed – so much lossat what costBy their own lightthose who could not fightsearch for signs of life Wandering in suspensionthe crowds pass inmuted tones, hushed and dimmaking their own inspectionframe by framemostly weighed by ageand time, and glossedby the wonderContinue reading “Waterloo”
The Poetry Patio 