Selected Works - 2024
Cat in Window Poem
12/16/24
as i brush the lemon and bread-
crumbs from the counter, a house
cat rolls viciously in the warm
dirt outside the kitchen window.
how funny, i think to myself. these
new patches are as cinnamon to the
peppery fur, little sailing clouds of
dust and all earth over the red sycamore
leaves collaborating in the street. i
knew it then, that i would write about
whispering to my flatmate this one
invitation to share in a silent observing
of the small beast through the glass.
muddying itself with the sun-allayed
powdered flour of the baking morning
where i too can roll about in the breath
of the things above me–– honey cloud
in the twilight of the driveway––that
extrovert japanese maple and the council
of blue mussel shells as empty homes
on the yellow porch. so too you had
whispered to me, just without speaking,
to let the birds circle above us on their
great parade through new bedford and
wherever they were going when they
reached the end of the canal and found
it an appropriate time to let somebody
else decorate the sky or even the yard.
For Bob Carter
Souvenir (Exercise)
5/3/24
with luck, there will be a leaf on the autumn
ground— and as a child, you simply cannot
resist but to tuck its small net of fibers away
and into the glovelike hearth of a near known
pocket. alongside a band of twine and a bus
pass wrapped in the gloss of forward time, it
will sit and ponder detachment with each of
the bounces, like bark crumbling from the red
focal pillar of a mahogany. you know exactly
the tumbling place of this leaf— it is among
your frequent visitations, even, and yet absent
in the consideration of this new token. never
will you return to its origin, where the tunes of
one thousand neighboring shapes flap about
or gather to resemble passers by. it is a grand
pursuit in its uniformity, as with time you will
find no new rings or cool deltas of yellow upon
its leafy body. trading into smooth, un-living
boundaries until it cannot comprehend its own
newness— or even to offer the cool descent
within the sort of memory fallen things adopt.
The Duel
10/10/24
sit, my old friend. in the morning,
the trees like to sway as if eager
for a sun to cue their unfolding.
we, too, might cast our profiles tall &
across this curtain of today. starlings
fluttering out in their distant cohorts,
wind ushering the brash echoes of
orchestra, as we gather some sights
only to snooze in their long shadows.
perhaps this language is all i have
to wield, but i need no lush metaphors
to offer thanks. much rather would i
join you in the upper terrace, while two
savants face one other in their baroque
debate of the stage. with sleek pianos,
the notes become some regal barricade
now, where daylight is flushed from
the faint rafters of the concert hall &
older rhythms are running circles
in the dark like the lightning bug. is it
any doubt we can’t help but welcome
the laughter of this cadence? the sound is all
one childish assembly, and i long to hear
of your every story since last we spoke.
Hanford
2/3/24
deep in cradle of
the catskill’s purr
the scarlet ponds ripen
for may
your lacings waver,
i will be lyrically
a little dog in the shape
of your longing
running along
swift flashes of a vernal
sun like crystals lining
rock salt, roadside market
roll me like heavy cream
in shade, panfish wild red
belly, softer
leaves are canvas too
the mill is the heart
of mountain’s mossy
shell, reiteration, and here
in the right splash
braids of spring pigment
dance through banded
saw, heritage in the wooden
pinion like a whirl
of self; all we might be
is joy in birches’ infant
bark like paper, quivering
notes of green rescue
if these valleys deserve
such a library, my voice will be
like jeweled and swimming
upon the soft neck of summer
For Meredith
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