Tag Archives: perspective

Neighborhood song

Neighborhood song

Where things end up is past wondering.
Despair leaves a bag of burning shit at your door.

Rings the doorbell and runs. Sadness comes
to visit and sees the bag, stamps out the fire

before you can open the door and stop it.
Sadness never gets the trick. If you close

the door in its face, it will just stand there
and wait. Perspective texts you by mistake

a few minutes later: “You really put your foot
in it this time.” So eventually you let sadness in

And make it a favorite drink. You throw a comforter
and pillow on the couch, or chair, or floor.

You know it can take care of itself, and will leave
when it’s ready. Regret can’t blame the door

It walks into until you have opened it up to let
it in, and it can see what’s behind it clearly.

“You never should have let th-that thing in,”
pointing to the slumbering lump on the couch.

There is no need to be nice. Once you push
it out into the night, “You’ll end up wondering

what you’ve wasted your time on!” it says,
backing down the steps. The rain, being rain,

begins. Miles away the storm is thundering
like the biggest lost imagined toy. In the dark

you may have smiled, like a clock-face caught
by lightning. There are words for what you see

which don’t exist in the past, which dissolve like joy.
Where things end up is past wondering.

Untitled Moment in the Middle of the First Night of April

Untitled Moment in the Middle of the First Night of April

Incense rises up the wall
in front of my mother’s painting

A village clings to a cliff a thousand
white rooms open to the sun

No separation of inside or outside
to me this painting is a memory

Of her, about memory about how something
no longer exists but still exists

Like smoke from an incense stick
it is entirely spent lighter than air

More solid than the air we breathe
my mother painted it from a photograph

To learn perspective

DMSpainting

Lunar Occultation

Lunar Occultation

Halfway up the maple, the moon looks
suspended in a mesh of telephone wires.

A few hours ago it blotted a bright blue
planet from the sky—it takes 84 Earth years

for a single year to pass there but the moon
obscures it in ten seconds before its thirteen

rings can split the horizon. On this harvest month
it can dim even the dog star but now it needs my help—

tilting my head in homage I take a few steps
to the right, and the moon is free.

 

*

 

Author’s note: The lunar occultation referred to is when the moon passes in front of a planet, in tonight’s case, Uranus. I combined this with the visual experience I had in my front yard this evening. In the long run, I think the version of the poem below, shorter and without the additional planet-specific info, may be the final form this poem takes. Because the specific information about how distance affects time and perception, is very interesting to me, and just kinda cool, I wanted to share the original poem above as well. Due to an unfortunate hit-and-run accident soon after its formation, Uranus is also a strangely tilted planet, thus the reference in the last stanza. Feel free to comment on which version you prefer. 
Lunar Occultation
Halfway up the maple, the moon looks
suspended in a mesh of telephone wires.
A few hours ago it blotted a bright blue
planet from the sky—now it needs my help.
Tilting my head in homage I take a few steps
to the right, and the moon is free.