Crows

Another new poem:

Four crows in a bare tree

glimpsed briefly
as the train hurtles past
a field cleared by bulldozers
little hills of dirt and rubble piles
and clumps of weeds poking up
here and there remarkable
how much one takes in while
speeding past a last look back
and the crows still perch
unmoved

September 19, 2007

New Work

As summer turns to fall, my productivity seems to increase. I'm also trying to boost my creative work by keeping a notebook of spontaneously arising lines and titles and following them as far as I can, not worrying about finishing or "perfecting"—so far the results have been excellent. Here's one recent poem that grew from this method, with another to follow soon:

You were sleeping

so I ate by myself
and then I stood up
and looked out the back
door at the evening light
saturating the yard,
tinting the houses and trees,
flooding all the way
out to the power lines,
late summer’s burst of life
buzzing and flitting around
and in the flowering bushes,
a pale slice of moon
already floating in the sky.

September 5, 2007