Subversive gardening, I am an urban vine unwilling to be tethered to one person’s possession. I will not become part of anyone’s landscape of ownership dispute. I will grow as my environment allows. I will become a grubby urban palimpsest to be layered upon by a future you and me. Note: John Ashbery refers to [...]
Archive for January, 2010
Untitled (Day 2,631)
Posted: January 31, 2010 by Arambler in Afternoon PoemsTags: grubby urban palimpsests, Poetry, subversive gardening
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Cauldron Over Ice
Posted: January 30, 2010 by Arambler in Night PoemsTags: endless bridge, Guthrie Theater, Macbeth, mississippi river, Poetry, three weird sisters
Macbeth is here to be seen down by the river. Take a walk on the endless bridge overlooking it to get ready. These three sisters will not be dismissed.
Franconia Sculpture Park
Posted: January 29, 2010 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: grave, monosyllables, Poetry, puzzle, site specific art
Reclaim a shed, hitch it by cables to the sky, spin it around to face that northern horizon as it becomes enlarged by civil twilight. Use earth to honor the earth—a dirt laden jigsaw puzzle piece suspended above its perfectly dug grave speaks in monosyllables. The greater swing risks breaking with each arc, a bracing hazard [...]
Act
Posted: January 28, 2010 by Arambler in Afternoon PoemsTags: black coffee, kisses, Poetry, Red Bull
as if he could give you what remains of daylight. Shadow kisses across your cold cheek. Relief from rush hour chaos—a simple word breaking off your mouth. Energy from ten cups of black coffee, ten cans of Red Bull not needed here. As if this recognition could be on your face.
From Washington Avenue South
Posted: January 27, 2010 by Arambler in Night PoemsTags: crawlers, LED, Macbeth, Poetry
Coming soon in red—Macbeth crawls up the sky.
Camera Invisible (Day 2,626)
Posted: January 26, 2010 by Arambler in Day PoemsTags: photography, Poetry, skyway
If she were shooting photos day by day, she would look for you in two-way skyway motion, would need to actually see you, then find a way to take your image without being exposed. Impossible. You’re nowhere near here. Not yet. Not ever going to take cover on this second floor winter salvation. No, she [...]
Mixology
Posted: January 25, 2010 by Arambler in Overnight PoemsTags: cocktail, headwaters, mississippi river, mouth, Poetry
All this talk of the source, the head, convergence of three ecosystems—not to mention bog. I’m here to ask what about the middle where we’ll find you stirring our liquid footprints with yours to concoct a cocktail to be drunk by those waiting at the mouth to be served.
Junction
Posted: January 24, 2010 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: blue hour, civil dawn, civil twilight, horizon, Poetry
My weakest hours come too bright, too central, too exposed—take me to the blue hour where I belong between definitions.
Asbury Park
Posted: January 23, 2010 by Arambler in Morning PoemsTags: aphasia, Asbury Park, Atlantic Ocean, Poetry
Your name too terrifying to say, all those wounds on display before there were scars. They say you are rescuing yourself now. But back then you were locked out, no one in Ocean Grove dared to hold the key. And I say what difference does it make—graffiti on a crumbling wall, the crumbling wall to [...]
Moraine
Posted: January 22, 2010 by Arambler in Civil Twilight or Dawn PoemsTags: footprint, Itasca State Park, knob and kettle, Poetry, repatriation, slender naiad
Once the digging begins, no reburial will do, no wildest classroom with doors opening onto knob and kettle will teach away sanctity exhumed. No fire will ruin the virgin red pine forest for the future. Neither deer browsing nor beavers damming can compare to men logging off time. As endangered as a slender naiad or [...]
