If science is fiction, let no oil
touch her skin under any narrative
current. A miracle
of protection, it remains dry
over a lifetime submerged
in water. She clings
to kelp forests. Air
bubbles are necessary.
Month: August 2010
Red Wing’s Bay Point
She stands beside the wooden no wake
sign to calm those rumblings
inside, steps on a bed of soft,
overripe crabapples
by accident. Laughter
in the slippage. She’s been to the island no state
wishes to claim across the channel—prefers
it from this side. Terror is
a walk across the High Bridge that ties
Minnesota and Wisconsin together
along Highway 63. A club soda to gulp
in the Harbor Bar outside wooded campgrounds.
Yes, vista rather than destination.
Red Wing
To be plum
with the river, or a bluff
quarried but still projecting
as a barn for the gods,
is
to be at all
bliss on a high bridge
or barge passing beneath.
Bliss
“He was BEAT—the root, the soul of Beatific. What was he knowing?”
—Jack Kerouac, On the Road
She packs up her traveling self again, seeks
a lightened load for a one night stand
beside the river and its Red Wing rumblings.
Any way to break
the ceramic cast
to her routine deserves a look. This romantic getaway
has room for only one
on the upper deck of the Empire Builder. First stop
and she’s off
tracks on the trail toward bluffs ahead.
Hoodwink
When she who is a cowlick
becomes a main character in high anxiety
drama playing through intersections, it’s time
to remove all straight lines, time
to take the long way home on foot.
Bixby Bridge
The crossing goes by
too fast, the span
and stretch will remain imprinted
on my memory reel as long as
they do. Who’s to say
I will carry this one
with me longer than any other bridge
I’ve committed
to memory. Part of the collection
of true spectaculars, it stands
a chance of rising
often and with force.
Visage Behind a Vista
Distressed fabric, I
did it the hard way.
These creases are real—I
only wish I had smiled more
when these uncloaked
skies came into view.
