A description that gives context about the poems.
I wear socks marked L and R
They are not marketed
As teaching tools
For first time sock-wearers.
They are marketed
To guys for whom socks
Not marked L and R
Are not good enough.
I wear them under
Sneakers of many colors
And advanced technology
To protect me from mediocrity.
So when I levitate (sort of)
And shoot the rock
It’s not the shoes
It’s not the socks.
And when the ball
Clangs off the rim
They don’t blame my gear
They say “It’s him.”
We’re taught win or lose,
but
Nothing is above grace,
and
Nothing is below,
So
In between,
we choose.
Life is grand —
never goes as planned!
But of our plans what do we know —
this much we reap / this much we sow?
No, we harrow row by row;
We tarry inch by inch.
Sometimes a tablespoon;
Sometimes just a pinch.
The cards you’re dealt;
Become your hand.
Life is better
When it’s not all planned.
I took them
Home to read
By myself
And left them there
For years
Then one day
I brought them back
In an empty church
Left them on an empty pew.
Circles move within circles
Swoop swirl dive & rise
Over a faded green muddle field
Next to last
Month of the year
Compressed afternoon cold & bright
White sun crested and already dipping
Follows its clipped arc
Blackness so deep it shines
How many are there?
Four six five?
Precise as surgeons
Sharp edged carving space
Among themselves as if they sky is theirs
Cut to pieces the air falls
In shadows to the ground
And refills itself
Unhinged, leaves fall
Trees bare drained and
Shrunk into themselves
The Bay lifts its shoulders
Bristles shivers once & sparkles
As much as November can
Turning over & into itself
Sparkles roll off and away
To edges where
First ice will bloom
Only the crows are undaunted
Energized enthralling defiant
For a moment I discern their dance
Their gyration stops for a moment …
And I see in that moment or through it
Invisible strings
Vibrating crow to crow
And bursting hiding in plain sight
Lining leaves trees breeze waves
For a moment …
As the year winds down
Just when it should
And just how it should
To its last day
And it’s not just me watching
Surf turf oak ash cedar loam ledge
The brown and the green and the silver
Needle stem cone ripple root foam mud
Like the stage and the stagehands
The players and the play
Watching the crows dance
… And they start again
Before I even know
What I saw
Like they never stopped
Wingcurve beakcurve blacksmiles
Scissor, slant & swing
Gyroscope of crows
Gyroscope of smiles
Not for me or us
For the joy of being them
One root but many leaves (not a tree)
Separate (the verb)
Sadness / Love (noun form)
Not anger/fear (true/false?)
Blessing and letting go (you’ve arrived).
The river flows
The traffic slows
One sighs and breathes
The other brakes and seethes
Still traffic runs hard
Moving waters forgive
Provide a mirror
Behind and ahead
Or ignored off to the side
I’ve got to get there
Says the driver
The river will carry us
Says the boatman
We walked along
Side by side
The plover plied
The waves crashed and sighed
Breezes glide
We did not touch the ocean
The ocean touched us
I’m not deep but I’m into you
I don’t sleep but I dream of you
Got room for me I got room for you
Closing time and you can’t go home
Closing time and you can’t be alone
Putting yourself up for adoption
Bad choices means no options
You’re a straight jacket
I’m Harry Houdini
You thought you’d be lock me up and drop the key
Not chill enough to let it be
Didn’t listen to my warning
I want a lover not a warden
You thought you could lock up my lyrics but I’m the word man
You’re Alcatraz but I’m The Birdman
Kevin Curnin 