Monthly Archives: December 2016

Conversations (XIX) — to the new year’s messages

Conversations (XIX) — to the new year’s messages

The messages gathered overnight
In the tree outside my bedroom

Then woke me up before I knew I was
Hearing them. Fill my branches with birds,

With the starlings of your thought.
I will see that they are well fed, and my house

Shelters them from the worst of the winter
Wind. I will come outside to them

And stand in the bracing cold,
Resolute, and watch the new day.

Conversations (XV) — to waking alone

Conversations (XV) — to waking alone

In the morning I woke deep in conversation.
The clock is a word. My wrist reaching for air

Is a word. Blankets the words I chose not to say.
The crow saws a gust of wind and it’s a word

The hole the woodpecker leaves is a word
He was looking for but could not find.

You are speaking to me like the wind speaks bird.
The starlings slur into the walnut tree’s crown

And crisply become its dreams. Transparent.
Not a team but sticking together for survival.

A murmur, against the gust. They say
The heart sleeps on the breath of a starling.

Such a small thing can wake it. What does
Someone else’s dream dreaming look like?

The crow’s wing feather’s spread like a saw.
A sliver of iridescence against the gust.

The zipper on the polka dot
Pajamas stuck halfway down, but far enough.

The sky’s skull softened and its blue eye grew.
Where vision is so vast there’s nothing more to see.

Conversations (X) — to the houses

Conversations (X) — to the houses

When we are asleep, after talk and touch,
And the music of your voice, even in my mind,

Has drifted into the blanketing silence
And there is nothing left but the breathing

Of our separate souls, then the houses
Begin to sing. Across the ways out

And the ways home that only houses know
They sing, houses who’ve never seen

The other’s siding or heard rain pelt
The other’s roof, but have shared

The job of sheltering us. Their song
Builds a new house for us we will never move

Out of, a bed always comfortably unmade,
A dog growing old sleeping in the corner,

A piano by the screen door, waiting.