Kay Ryan (2005)
The chickens
are circling and
blotting out the
day. The sun is
bright, but the
chickens are in
the way. Yes,
the sky is dark
with chickens,
dense with them.
They turn and
then they turn
again. These
are the chickens
you let loose
one at a time
and small—
various breeds.
Now they have
come home
to roost—all
the same kind
at the same speed.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Listening in October
John Haines
In the quiet house
a lamp is burning
where the book of autumn
lies open on a table.
There is tea with milk
in heavy mugs,
brown raisin cake, and thoughts
that stir the heart
with the promises of death.
We sit without words,
gazing past the limit
of fire, into the towering
darkness...
There are silences so deep
you can hear
the journeys of the soul,
enormous footsteps
downward in a freezing earth.
In the quiet house
a lamp is burning
where the book of autumn
lies open on a table.
There is tea with milk
in heavy mugs,
brown raisin cake, and thoughts
that stir the heart
with the promises of death.
We sit without words,
gazing past the limit
of fire, into the towering
darkness...
There are silences so deep
you can hear
the journeys of the soul,
enormous footsteps
downward in a freezing earth.
Monday, October 12, 2009
L Equals Look
Mary Jo Bang (2009)
At a book of details
Of all the moments when knowledge is acquired
A sort of expanded balloon
Sighs and says, "We are what came before."
"The storm in the window of the mind,"
The sleepy sister says while she's walking around
Wonderland watching
A cat touching down and talking.
Not a car in sight. A cemetery seen from the air.
All the obelisks you could ever ask for.
At a book of details
Of all the moments when knowledge is acquired
A sort of expanded balloon
Sighs and says, "We are what came before."
"The storm in the window of the mind,"
The sleepy sister says while she's walking around
Wonderland watching
A cat touching down and talking.
Not a car in sight. A cemetery seen from the air.
All the obelisks you could ever ask for.