COLBECK ROAD
--London
The houses are backed by gardens
As stern in their rows as the houses
Where icy wind stalks, a warden
Making announcements.
On weather: that the spring is lost
As sky becomes a milky mass
And raw winds stream in from the coast
To flatten the grass.
The gardens look up toward windows
Of dun and grey. All day the shades
Are drawn. The plots are overgrown
And paths have faded.
The gardens and rains are failing
Together into the evening,
Uprooted ramshackle prevailing,
The landscape aggrieved.
The visitor, escaping to wander
From houses, rowed shoulder to shoulder,
Might kick through long grasses and conjure
Responsible householders.
. . .
FOOL FOR DOUBLES
I learn through symmetry, faces
I care for, paired features, but also
Sights seen: trees sentinel in place
At lakeside, as sky mimics water--
Or does water mimic sky? Think
About the balances of nature:
Hawk tears nestlings at sunset's brink,
Just one burrows down to safety.
Her paternal grandmother gave
My daughter endless social graces:
Transfusion of in-the-world faith,
A tongue-tip taste for gold jewelry.
Blood-twins tire of enforced collusion,
Faces like mirrors, same clothes' dull
Humor, their propinquitous prison,
Exchanging bit parts forever.
I learn through symmetry, faces
I care for: search for that wildness,
Uncommon conclusion, places
Never gone to, but moved toward.
I dream of a life dangerously twinned,
Of that other, who waits for words'
Slow journey, between hearts' thin-
Walled chambers of thought and desire.
. . .
12 SUBURBAN HAIKU
* ceiling fan sows confetti of cooler air * alerted, statue of
rabbit stares down headlights of slow moving car * the pulse of
sleeping children, four legs growing, four arms * cat wails rounder
and rounder moons into each window frame--tight fit * stack of books,
read, unread, page by page, slides down * chlorine, ozone, must, rose,
oleander, dream sweat, Gulf air, breath * now, again, now, now,
clumped dried grass drops from lawn mower engine * slight green frog
balanced on lip of the hot tub: alluring steam and death * like an
expensive dress folded in tissue paper, cotton sheets layer new sleep
* wind plays a mariachi of blinds--same tune, one leads, one follows,
one strays, catches up * sun ignites woodpecker, cardinal,
mockingbird, dampens owl * spoon on white bowl, again, milk smell,
pungent, almost sour? again, almost sweet? *
. . .
ROLAND BARTHES ON E-MAIL
As if I have words instead of fingers,
I fall in love with a sentence
spoken to me. I begin to understand.
Language is a skin. Skin replies.
I fall in love with a sentence.
I ask why? I ask when this began,
language as a skin? Skin replies.
I travel a distance, chance a word.
I ask why? I ask when this began.
Spoken to, I begin to understand,
travel a distance, chance a word, as if
I have fingers at the tips of my words.
