That she could define the sacred place inside her architecture of breathing, that she could steal her father’s Old Head cave—naturally programmed with thick Irish grass to cushion vistas of the Irish Sea— that she could claim even one piece of rock as her own to build a chapel for her own non-conformity, would be her [...]
Archive for July, 2009
Nature’s Bethel
Posted: July 31, 2009 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: Poetry, bethel, Old Head, cave, Irish Sea, vista, rock, father
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Laugh Phoenix
Posted: July 30, 2009 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: feathers, fire engine, ladders, phoenix, Poetry, puns
You are my laughing phoenix, I am yours. Our cackling woke the dead. Endlessly we cracked jokes waiting for the fire engines (not red) to arrive. No, wait! Hurry! Get back inside. Let the smoke choke us out of five hundred years’ worth of played-out puns. Six hundred too many Arabian nights have us cracked [...]
Walking the Boards
Posted: July 29, 2009 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: boardwalk, dunes, New Jersey Shore, ocean, Poetry, tide, waves
We speak in waves over particles of breath, briny breathing, this boardwalk holds up more than it will tell. It’s the simple words in solid greens, gray blues, the color of sand after it rains, it’s these that endure in the moon’s wake. Without a single word, we still could [...]
Scratch (Day 2,426)
Posted: July 28, 2009 by Arambler in Day PoemsTags: bridge, graffiti, John Ashbery, mill, Poetry, scratch, waterfall
Graffiti isn’t graffiti unless she calls it. On an old water tower crowning an abandoned grain mill— perhaps. “Erin I love you” attaching itself to the “and then it got very cool” end of Ashbery’s poem on a pedestrian bridge—definitely. These messages you leave for her in waterfall rushing to flow into southern lines— she [...]
The Founding (Day 2,244)
Posted: July 27, 2009 by Arambler in Day PoemsTags: ocean, Poetry, railroad tracks, riverbed, walking, weeds, wild flowers, Wild Turkey
He finds her one piece at a time along railroad tracks, in riverbeds, beneath piers, over gutters. It takes months to find her mouth, but the hands appear without effort. His search begins when he’s walking along the shoulder of a dusty road outside a town he has considered home. Not so much anymore. A [...]
Kokomo (Day 2,439: Take 2)
Posted: July 26, 2009 by Arambler in Day PoemsTags: banana seat, bicycle, horse, Kokomo, Poetry, sting-ray
When I visit my sister next month, I will think of you still pretending your banana seat bicycle with string-ray handle bars is a horse.
I wrote a love poem to a tree. Now I’m learning not to wait for a reply.
Parenthetical Place (Day 2,440: Take 3)
Posted: July 24, 2009 by Arambler in Day PoemsTags: corridor, Parenthetical, pedestrian, Poetry
Everyone is (a) pedestrian. This corridor is mine to crawl through to touch the classless dream(.)
Civil Twilight
Posted: July 23, 2009 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: bay, civil twilight, cul-de-sac, East Chop, match box cars, ocean, Poetry, West Chop
A thirty-minute measure of time to get it done. She must pave the road from town center to rain puddle is a swimming hole for her imaginary neighborhood. It’s time to get it done. Their world, her creation, is a cul-de-sac of beach sand transported by huge mechanical shovels, not the wind. It’s time, before [...]
Cedar Point Not Lost (Day 2,160: Take 3)
Posted: July 22, 2009 by Arambler in Day PoemsTags: Cedar Point, Dance, Island, Lake Erie, Lucky, Ohio, Peninsula, Reprieve, Roller Coaster, Sandusky
Sandusky is not merely amusement, not merely a beer garden, bathhouse, dance floor where the first lover would begin to break my hope over cold water. Edging Lake Erie, a peninsula not an island after all, Ohio’s tendency for hills. I stay away to prevent roller coaster motion sickness—we’re never cured from the disease of [...]
