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metaphor
yesterday is burning. not cleanly, but like an oil fire with lots of dark smoke and haze; it’s not clear anymore what lies on the other side. i should try and save what i can, i suppose, sort through...
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afraid
i saw her in my dreams, crying. metaphor for an implicit tragedy haunting horizons between the possible and the inevitable; echoed footfalls fill the edges, hauling memories from an abyss like...
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it was a good thing (he knew CPR)
the morning after december’s first snowfall i woke up in clear eyes, borrowed pajamas and with a chest bruised from where the doctors had pumped wild air back into lips and lungs that for too long had...
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metaphor for the middle of May
although near sunset i walk the same barefoot circles round the same gravel despair, morning finds me prying last autumn’s leaf fall from the damp spring earth, letting the soil breathe a chance for...
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(between parentheses)
after R.S. dear poet, there is nothing accidental about this metaphor: that we are children reaching hands in the hard calloused eyes of the ferryman who steers between the winks of channel-markers...
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The metaphor is not lost on me
How I tramp through these days in your shoes, learning to build fences in the early april mud. There is something very like redemption in the hardpan, & in the thrust of shoulders exhuming each...
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