Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Shadows Dancing in Between

In Praise of What Is Missing

When a tooth is extracted,
some side of the holy wheel is unnotched,
And twists, unlike Ixion's, in the wind and weather,
And one slips into wanting nothing more
from the human world,
And leans back, a drifting cloud,
Toward what becomes vacant and is nameless and is blue,
As days once were, and will be again.


Farrar, Straus and Giroux

from Poetry Daily


Happy Birthday, be. :)


These things moving in wind,

we have names for them: feather, dust,

bird. That which, now and then, urges leaves

to nudge the movable branches. Sometimes,

we may even see their quiet collisions,

flecks of sudden and minute life

as this afternoon, sitting on the porch

and watching my wife dusting off blankets,

the sunlight gathering around her lithe body,

our children running under the swayed trees

and the startled birds, the dust swirling joyously

everywhere, celebrating their release. And I am held

in awe of the things that move in the world,

or are moved, and of the privacy of the living,

all the many rising objects revealed only by refraction,

and why I just sit here, straining.

For April

* first appeared in the Sunday Inquirer Magazine

Renga # 14

A wife is a funny thing
to have under a steady microscope.
Some change subjects
others, lenses.

How often does she tell you
not to smear her rouge,
the myriad shadows on her lids?
How often does she complain
you never look
too long?
The many pains of inspecting
a wife, a funny thing.

keith, sasha