nature

Analysandum

abrupt August 1, 2006
Part
the
leaves a
little, grasp
the hanging
pod. The seed
inside comes loose
with a wiggle. Roll the
seed around and squeeze.
Squeeze until the tree’s
shy juices lie fragrant
on your summer
fingers.

Out of Work

abrupt February 13, 2002

Out! Out of work —
The workers leave their folds
Into the spacious chaos of
a Texas evening
Bittersweet at the turn of another day

Breathe the blueing sky
its aroma cold
a nocturne of feral cats
slinks in the thicket
Quiet sky, host
to the legions
of an aching beyond
wheeling on and on and on

My car starts with a shudder

Centipede II

abrupt August 1, 2000

across the deserts of the floor
up the walls, down the hall
in diligent segments proceed
a carnivore of the very small,
the vagrant centipede

not a watcher, not a waiter
proactive insect
both a leader and the led
he crawls the sands to find that promised land
where he can rest all hundred peds.

the morning light steals stories
out of night’s linty folds
another centipede curls dying near the wall
its thought complete, its slow race run
it dies, and dries, and crumbles into all

Centipede I

abrupt July 15, 2000

diligent segmented process
gliding across
turning
like thought in the early morning
a wanderer
curling up when threatened
trundling across the deserts of our floor

(some species are highly toxic)

Ginkgo

abrupt April 14, 1998
It is easy,
in the season of renewal,
to take a greening twig for a sign
that life is not a losing
proposition,

That we aren’t just
a pinch of food
hanging uneaten on the lip of God,

When
past the hemline,
flesh leaps in dolphin curves,
tracing warm trajectories
beneath synthetic seas.

A swish, a dimple,
Spring’s message is simple:
Bifurcate and beat the curve

Which is why
the oldest phylum tree
still blossoms
in the shadow of cities.

Report from Cutler, Maine, October 1997

abrupt October 30, 1997

Salt shore,
where the seaweed grows,
and the tide kneads life
                         slow.

Evening gulls’
squawking fades and falters,
and the gulping crows
        revise their last oration.

Little mussels nestle
into curves of soft
green mud,
borrowing space
        from        some        stones.

And a lobster laughs
and a cormorant
follows his fish
                          alone.

***

City, scrape, truck.
Sick surplus.
Rush return to restless wait.
Back again in nexus.

This desert, flesh
rehearsing sermons,
pockmarked shield of mirrors.

Inside, the roaring
tide is pounding, pulling,
pounding at the future.
Unless…
Unless…
Remember something
calming, mussels,
                         still.

Ode to an Apple

abrupt December 26, 1993

Thanks to the Mother
For her sweet red gift
The answer to every compulsion
Whether chewed on the avenue
Or downed as wine
The apple offers up its service
To pass time and satisfy
The hungry soul
In a hungry world