Here are some of the new poems...
family album
Splayed on a table lies
monochrome moments
vying for attention
not forgotten, but life goes on
regardless
I pull the glossy photograph
from it’s silent resting place
the radiance of the surface
becomes a hand-mirror that reflects
fragments
of my room , the ceiling rose
and the top of the sequoia
in the sighing garden
beyond my window
reflecting
I take a look at the image
It is a picture of my mother
in the corner of her garden
amongst the bearded
irises
iridescent
She look directly into the camera
dark smudges cradle her eyes
she smiles, holds onto my arm
as if she wants to keep the moment back
and she does
The moment is reborn
into a dimension
not yet known to me
memory and desire
bleed to the surface
pentimenti
Iridaceae
Six times inflorescent fans
summon up the inky sap
naughty nectar dribbles
from a mossy perianth
The scurrilous secretion
makes you come
from Arcadia
to my bartered barren bed
Three falls. Three petals
tent the hidden treasure:
sweet candy
white amber
From the Styx she draws a
beaker river water
with this she puts to
sleep those who forswore a daughter
window box
You stand
wired
before me
mount
of Venus
baying with lust
delphinium exaltatum
I stand
I stand
inched
before
you
mount
Olympus
retching
rocks
kniphofia hirsuta
We stand
We stand
wrought
before
them
mount
Golgotha
shameless
in love
passiflora incarnata
three of us
Under the shadow
of braided straw
you hold my hand
in absentia.
There is a
bucket, but where’s my spade?
She bends to
buckle my sandal,
I smell starch
and the sorrow –
the apron, a flag
of escape or surrender.
Lighthouses beam
in code.
a train coils
through the sugared field,
black mamba
snakes the night.
Violet iris hangs
it’s scented crown-
like this drifting
memory I convoke to keep
pinned to my
black perambulator.
Stormy
weather
They
bring him broken from the mountain,
light
descending. She ran to meet the
darkened
load with whimpers and a wail-
As
the sky turns black and answers back,
they
download a frightening chorus:
tears
& rain and thunder & lightning
cracking
and cursing–blowing and blubbering
Until
a voiceless night fixes it all in a stutter.
A silence more final than death’s last word
comes to brood over the pooling puddles.
la notche oscura
A long time ago. When
I was a breakable child
a pop-up book offered
me twenty seven bridges
that
span the river Seine
Twelve handsome cardboard arches
became the glossy bridge- Pont Neuf
It was a dazzling limestone stage
for acrobats and music makers
in
a world of make belief
On a night of darkened soul
I was there again for real
at the edge of stone and hope
pondering the existential leap
to a place of ending silence
Now I often go to stand
on this bastion by the river
beneath a domed cerulean sky
A tie
between dark and day
