Restoration
Before you restore
the river’s name,
you must first
restore the river.
Strip it of its many dams,
drain the head pond,
bring back
the long-lost salmon
so they can spawn again.
Restore the forests.
Stop clear-cutting:
let the trees grow back.
Create anew a wilderness
where moose and deer,
porcupine and bear,
can wander at will.
The wilderness
a wilderness again.
Except it never was
a wilderness,
until the white man
came.
Bear
This carving’s tame.
Children may sit
safely on its back.
They may stroke
the mighty muscles.
Its jaws are wedged in a grin.
Its red tongue hangs still.
No saliva drops from its chin.
Marble glass eyes.
Woodworm, like moth,
have left holes in its back.
More: many a crack
ensures its tameness.
Its shoulders hunch.
Sixteen claws
probe the concrete
museum floor.
Its nearer ear
bears small chips like
my grandmother’s tea-set.
There’s lots of room
for slips between cups
and this bear’s lips.
I can sense
death’s closeness
when I smell its breath.
I feel it move
beneath my hand.
I know you’re in there,
Bear,
alive, alert, angry, hungry.
Cold sweat covers
my false, carved skin.
Brick
Red brick the universe,
red brick crumbled
sparrow crumbs now.
Red brick,
not lily-white limestone,
nor chalk,
white cliffs,
will tumble,
tugged down
by fierce tides
Red brick
and rough:
sand-paper,
the builder’s hands,
life- lines fortified,
unfettered brick dust.
Red brick,
heart, liver, lungs:
red holes, not black,
where red roses
flourish.
Red brick,
shattered into red
dust and this sun
a dwarf brick
shrinking in its
innocence.
Red bricks:
their dust become
gas giants,
Saturn’s rings,
useless wooden wagons
drawn up
in second hand westerns.
The huff and the puff:
brick shit houses,
these red brick
universes, built to last
way beyond
those dreaming spires,
that failed, will fail,
and still fail to inspire.
“Here endeth
the second lesson:
Book of Brick.”
Change
Summer walks along the garden path,
imprinting its footprints of flowers.
Green dreams wander the wind-lisped
grass with its multitudinous tongues.
Bright birds toll the morning bells
and announce a midsummer madness.
Occupational therapy, this forced feeding:
a million beaks and bellies nurtured.
All too soon, the shortening of days,
fall’s stealthy approach, the long trip home.
The moon will then swing its winter lantern.
Orion, dog at heel, will hunt his star-frosted sky.
Crows, those eternal survivors, will take salt
and the occasional meal from icy roads.
Comment:
It’s cloudy this morning and there is a chill in the air. The rowan berries are a bright yellow-turning-rapidly-to-orange. The crab apples are little red faces peering from laden tree and branch. The whole world has a sense of imminent change. Winter is never far away and the fear of frost-on-high-ground is always upon us.
My body
My body has so many rooms and you,
my love, possess me in them, wander
through them, and I see you, here, there,
everywhere, your presence a shadow
glimpsed in a mirror, or your warm touch
a breath upon forehead or cheek. Where
have you gone? Why did you leave me
here on my own to languish in your absence?
I walk from room to room, but when I knock
you open no doors, and though I seek,
I fail to find. I know you are somewhere near.
I hear your footstep on the stair, your voice
in the silence that surrounds me. My name,
a syllable or two, whispered in the way
I so clearly remember. How can it be true,
my love, that you have gone, that you have
left me here and forged ahead into another
time and space? I count the hours and days.
Will you prepare me a place? Will your face
be there to greet me? Alone, I clutch at straws,
embracing dust motes, counting the angels that
dance on the rainbows on the head of a pin.
Thank you so much, Deborah Carr and the WFNB, for inviting me to write about the KIRA Creative Experience. I appreciate your kindness and interest. Here, for my regular blog followers, is the link to the appropriate page.
Two Dogs and a Deer
(Cherry, Hanna, Jasper, and Lucinda)
Two dogs and a deer:
the deer, heart in mouth,
bounding away from the lawn
seeking cover in the trees.
The gold dog bounding too,
a rocking-horse bounce,
from back to front, lurching,
falling behind the black dog,
the latter, smooth as a train.
The enemy having fled,
shoulder to shoulder they return,
across the green grass of the field,
the victors, side by side, panting,
sides heaving, triumphant, grinning.
What heartbreak as these memories
fade and fall behind. Long may they
linger in my dreaming mind.
Life
A champagne glass
bubbling to the brim,
your voice over the phone,
sparking and sparkling.
“I’ve got a new job,” you say,
and fresh horizons
open before my eyes.
I see your ship sailing
towards undiscovered lands.
A better life beckons:
more responsibility,
higher pay, a move away
from the routines, once fresh,
now boring, that hold you back.
“Well done. Congratulations!”
I hear you start the car.
“Take care. Drive safely.”
You accelerate away
driving into the unknown
dimensions of a newer life
beyond this life,
a life I will never know.
Dreams
Sometimes, when we dream
there is neither time nor space:
all things are ever before us.
That child’s swing in the orchard
suspended from the apple tree,
primroses and bluebells
at the garden’s edge, delicate
their dance in morning’s light.
That old woman in the kitchen,
humming her morning hymn
as she bakes the breakfast bread.
That old man in the evening,
scything weed and dry grass.
Time’s fragility dwells ever
in our bones, not our minds.
Though dreams fade fast
with morning’s light, our day-
dreams will rule the day,
and we can still dream
those other dreams, at night.
Losing Weight
First, you must study Nature.
It will make you aware that trees
lose weight by shedding in the fall
their useless leaves. Do they ever
grieve you wonder, when winter
winds strip twig and branch?
That dog who owns your heart,
he sheds his coat and shakes
away both water and fleas.
Dogs can lose weight
whenever they please.
Don’t bother to diet.
Step fully clothed
on the bathroom scales
and weight yourself.
Step off, and shed your clothes,
leaves, twigs, branch, and fleas.
Then naked to the world
step on the scales and weigh again.
I bet you’ve lose a pound or two.
Believe me … and try it.
rogermoorepoet 