In this sun

In this sun, an apse
at the alley-aisle’s end, all
blessings fall blindly

Tethers

Into pages’ shine
a bit of spider drops lines
It disconnects me

Loafer

One brown shoe, still young,
keeps on at the stoop. “No one
will walk it, my mile.”

Flash forward

Clouds unhand the sun
an instant. Tree limbs give me
shadowy pointers.

Looking down

So small, so precious
here. Transiting there, Venus
can’t (no, no) see us.

[A little late...]

Looking out

Princely Norway maple,
do limn me. No more than all
your earthy dreamings.

Looking up

Its hue of blue screams
electricity, pooled there
'tween gray-bellied whites

Reading into the sun

With color, it seems
to bleed the blame from its ends
of days. It’s blameless.

Chirp

No chalk shapes the empty
space swept in to replace it,
this cricket. Criminals, we’re
outlined by its final chirp.

What remains for the day

The good of it gets
no good bye. The good in it
doesn’t go, and what goes
is good for it – too good – too.

Down the knock well

Knock well. He's not well, when
you weakly unwrap a tap.
It’s where those light raps
go. And you'll go, unopened.

Whence it all changes

One day it’s March. One
crocus, then many bloom. Spring
takes us, gently gripped.

Saturation

The clear muddle of it is
the queer puddles that appear
in the middle of now/here
without the merest piddle
or burble of a past nearby.

More than beware

Be air,
the tides,
en marche

Leap day

Leaping laggards,
we lag the leapers
leaping, we

Neologist

The accentric in me wants
to pronounce it
unclude
and to show you

Exercises in Anthropomorphism

Five stoic sparrows
sit in vented heat. Don’t mind
the nervous starling.

Twelve and Twenty

I didn’t know what
to call its plastic dangling
there in the window, but
this new-old morning
the old-new sun changed
it to an exclamation
point of light, and changed
now is my name for it.

On the Feast of Stephen

When the wren
senses the sun’s gift,
its enlightened touch
warming a tender brown breast,
he begs neither hand nor pen
to send his blessings

One day, a cat

One jet scars the night.
One feather leaves it a kiss.
One morning comes, gray whiskered,
to lap away the miss.