More Samples From Poetry Class . . .

I Wish to Wear the Sky (another kind of desire poem) 11/15/10

When I finally give into blue,
the thirsty shade makes way
for indigo daydreams,
diffusing diffractions of
a mischievous chicory mosaic.

Above terrestrial parallelograms,
a design, defined inside
the purple prism, inclines
my mind to spin that tone into
a fabricated gown with sequins sewn in sunset stars,
a band of silky lupines looped about the waist,
and an edible baby-blue train bustled up
at the hip like a pompous hibiscus.

This is the pattern of passion--dress of desire--

I long to trim a yard or two of blue straight from
the sky and stitch the fabric, hue by hue, into
the ultimate and unattainable raiment of angels.



Parker, I Will Miss the Music (an object that brings back a loss poem. The format of this poem is important and probably will get messed up in the blog, oh well . . .) 11/15/10

That's the blue Fender guitar-pick Parker
accidentally left. It fell out of his pocket, and I
found it in that couch. If I put it in my wallet I will
think of him each time I buy new strings. He'll never miss
it, 'cause he has so many. Bigger than mine, his dreams were the
kind that always end up in books. The kind that people like to put to music.

The kind that never come true.



Male Pheasant Sighted at Sunrise (in praise poem) 11/18/10

Peeking out at sunrise,
gradually glowing,
green tail feathers slip
through November,
cutting across 13th.
Crisp, clacking claws on
pavement carry him into
the neighbor's corn.
Claiming his kingdom,
announcing his reign,
with a toss of his head
the pheasant consecrates
the morning.



Onions (the zen of housework poem) 11/18/10

Butter melts behind me,
smooth and slimy orb in my left hand,
long, threatening blade in my right,
eyes wide, lips pinched shut,
the first slice splits the onion in two--
butter spits, crackles--turn around,
turn down the heat,
slice, slice, slice, white rings fall
nicely--beautiful circles,
eternal, never-ending; tears tear
through my make-up,
splitting into honesty,
shelling, revealing, corroding
the crystallized covering,
undressing me.
I am crying uncontrollably,
naked,
slicing onions,
in my kitchen.