tearing things apart. unneedfully.
rubbing things the wrong way round.
being the instrument of their own hurt.
happy tales included being shy.
negative space, I suppose.
sculling in place. be the better heart.
there’s always a second start. again.
a bowl leaps into my lap. well, one leg.
well, might have been a cat.
by these palms no outside harm arrives.
palms splayed. one handprint wide,
a fallen leaf.
gravity loves. each and every one
of us. no hesitation.
gravity makes earth breathing.
gravity guides waters into the sea.
gravity teaches ocean how to make legs.
gravity walks then floats then flies.
gravity joins earth and sea.
gravity navigates inside doors.
gravity sees almost forever.
gravity smiles when listening.
gravity lets you know how tall you are.
gravity sleeps with you when your eyes
are closed.
gravity knows the word, embrace.
gravity and I are close friends.
like a shadow is. you know.
sewn together at the heels.
a perfect thread.
: )
it’s possible for past tense to approach this way.
this is how water looks in my dream. (except it moves)
I take comfort when I see the ocean in the middle of dark night. no reason why. but I do. maybe that’s how it will be when my eyes are closed. so they say. and my wish. for the water, and for you. meanwhile, me listening.
remembering is my gift to you.
MBA webcam views of Monterey Bay used with permission.
please visit and/or support the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
they make the ocean more alive. us too.
please do enlarge the header image.
one breath can begin Anything.
it doesn’t mean anything. it’s a moose.
that’s not me. there are stacks of things not me.
someday, maybe, I’ll be each one of them. we
take turns.
this time, me.
although rumor is, I’m on my way toward
becoming something else.
might be asked, who’s spreading that rumor.
confess, maybe me.
a moose has four legs to tell the truth.
I only have two.
yes. I am somewhat unreliable. unpredictable.
I buy books I cannot read. too tired, when
they arrive. no focus. not that a moose
would care.
more unquenched good ideas.
I’m able to forget almost anything you say to me.
did you know a gathering of sea otters is
called a raft. no moose knows that.
that’s why they do. so they won’t.
won’t drift away. apart, like me.
I should’a. see?
no water. I ain’t that smart.
abundance is a word that applies to them.
not to me.
more words won’t make better. but not the point.
wrong font, seems to me. so why. because She said.
because, I do.
here, these words on my tongue.
maybe a moose is smarter than me.
better landscape anyway.
I think a poem can carry one breath.
what does this breath begin.
image: © Delphine Margau, Delphine Margau Art Photography, France
this image is part of her chapter/series, Under The Woods of Childhood.
kind permission granted for use of this © image. with our thanks.
yes. you are seeing double. same moose as recently. why?
here’s why. cause the moose said, I have something different to say.
will you. will you let me speak. I am symbol for you.
low tide means the entire bay is lower. imagine that.
that’s a lot more than me.
like salmon do, I’m spawning for home.
MBA webcam views of Monterey Bay used with permission.
please visit and/or support the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
they make the ocean more alive. us too.
please do enlarge the header image.
I am moose.
I belong to trees. I belong to hills.
I belong to god. god made me moose.
god set me free.
but not alone.
I walk in the river. a river made of Light.
me and Light, we are only a blink distant apart.
Light feeds on seeing me.
I am brown. I am tall. I have four limbs
sprouting feet like stones.
Light follows. gives breath a shadow leaning
into purpose, like being alive.
as well mother, gravity. she loves me
like trees, like dirt, like stars. all night long.
even in the day, even when we’re blind.
wolves and bears, others sometimes, rarely,
maybe, even you. you eat me sometimes.
no fault. I love, all the same.
Light brought us here. Light breathes like tide.
shadow mirrors our direction home.
there is Light inside sky
there is Light inside water
there is Light inside trees, inside grass, inside rocks
there is Light inside a moose.
when there is shadow, Light is near. no fear.
when you say Light, does Light hesitate.
I am who I am meant to be. I am this poem.
I am moose inside Light.
image: © Delphine Margau, Delphine Margau Art Photography, France
this image is part of her chapter/series, Under The Woods of Childhood.
kind permission granted for use of this © image. with our thanks.
please visit her website to experience more work by this exceptional artist and photographer. her work is also shown on the Edge of Humanity arts website.
Under The Woods of Childhood
What is hidden in the depths of the soul will come to the surface
one day or another.
Go a little deeper, in the dark, that’s where the light is. If you
are afraid, then go ahead. Go and join the waiting child.
Delphine Margau
don’t care. I’m happy anyway. beautiful.
am I tired of this view? nope. gonna happen here again and again.
some poems are made from water and rocks and sky. just like this.
I’m willing to read forever.
MBA webcam views of Monterey Bay used with permission.
please visit and/or support the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
they make the ocean more alive. us too.
please do enlarge the header image.
she said it herself, leaning in.
what if we cautioned you this poem might leap off the page?
would you add extra milk and eggs to your grocery list?
perhaps this really is your poem after all
and you’re just a flinch away from everything
coming back beyond slight of hand.
soon you’ll be asking for your favorite pen,
asking for your old writing hat.
close your eyes. go ahead, begin to write.
this ink might become invisible any moment now!
what if it rained and your umbrella was out of town?
would you remember you came from the sea?
close your eyes. taste summer salt.
close your eyes. write my face.
reprise: originally published 23 July 2011 in a slightly different format and text. there’s also some comment conversation about how poems breathe.
some things aren’t done just ’cause we think they are. this one wanted to raise its hand again. who am I to be saying no.
my thanks to Margo, Irene, Elizabeth.
post script
what else? I was going to use this image one more time, something more of past and present I feel, but then, maybe that would be too much bread on the table. so now. this here, instead.
this ceramic face mask was one of many by a French artist, exceptional. I gave coin for this, very many years ago, in a climate far more temperate than now & here. it is to me, life-size, life-like. I like the theme, the notion of emerging, but it is more personal than merely art. in those days of loneliness, this face was maybe a friend, or could be, and near enough to be close to me. imagine a lover. I could. as near as one kiss. so it does not merely hang on my wall, it hangs inside my heart. would that I could write a poem to be such a friend to you. then some resonate voice over my shoulder might lean in and whisper, well done my son. I would be home again.
imagine this is a poem just like that.
what makes me who I am.
I love this motion, approaching you. unchanging,
my dear heart. standing still.
your feathers like wheat stubble on your skin. here
I lay down, no more thought. gratitude.
you nourish me.
sweetness, how my feet know the touch of you.
nothing comforts me more.
one thumb can say it all. new language, here
you teach to me. whisper me.
raining me. head over heels.
I tumble. then here I am, this close to you.
you make me real. like sky. I am filled.
embracing me.
image: via Bridgette Tales, 52 Photo Challenge, Week 8 – Negative Space,
and used with her kind permission. please click image to enlarge.
yes, more like water than you might think. (patience please)
AMA – a short film by Julie Gautier
where.
out past sky.
moon. moon didn’t make her reflect that second face.
reaching out to gather Light was already like falling. falling into wind.
looking up. looking up. someone said they were stars.
color the shape of ruby in a sea. dare risk the farther edge.
world made the color of her sleep.
thus momentum,
making lures the shape of Light. see them defy gravity.
rising up. rising up.
the lyric sense of you. second lingering.
take the shape she remembers now.
insistence an undervalued attribute. oh gravity.
take the shape of Light on a clouded afternoon.
why did I ever let go.
another radiant wing.
but most. most what I remember is
the scent of you.
I’d know you in the dark.
wordswerepoemsfirst.com 