Category Archives: poetry

Beneath It All

CIMG5680 - Version 3

Love’s a hitchhiker,
so innocent in its leap
that it doesn’t register
torn seats or sunroofs
but simply hears
come on in
and feels that smile
like a warm winter breeze,

but relationships
are rarely so simple:
the car must be washed
repaired, replaced
and trips planned
and changed with the
frequency of newborns’
diapers amidst increasing
conflict till compromise
shatters
like a windshield at eighty
against a centennial oak

but love, love is not so
complicated—once stripped
of metal and fuel it
shimmers naked, senses
open to sky and skunk,
blizzards and vistas,
and it’s never

blind but radiant as a star
and enigmatic as a body
after the heart’s
final
beat.

 

Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.

wpc

Flying Raccoon-Angel Dog

P1850991.jpg

 

It’s crazy how much I love this dog:

she’s silver strands if I am a crow

if a pirate, she’s my mountain of gold

by sea at night she’s the northern star

and my sun & moon & light near & far

 

(Joya picks up almost anything and turns it into a toy that she flips in the air, catches, chases, since everything is animate and joyful play in her world.)

wpc

Catalyst

P1800179

As if disintegrating the stone of our being to sand

we pour ourselves empty to be remade beyond

the merciless sins we rise above.

 

The beauty of your breast now cleaved away,

my lungs always stomping their sun-flare dance against harm,

yet we reshape ourselves for one another as balm

till we can bear our stories’ terrible weight

 

till we are transformed as if sound—

water on granite, wind through pine,

an osprey’s haunting cry—

you and I as salt and sea and sky.

 

 

Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.

 

wpc

If Bird

_1430974 - Version 2

You would be my loon

calling long past light,

my mourning dove, my

sweetest finch flashing

sun from black as night.

 

If my bird you were I’d

feed you nectar from my

palm and plant thick trees

for you to rest and nest until

I could transform my arms

and hands to feathered limbs—

our hearts remade as song.

 

Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.

wpc

Communion

CIMG8359.JPG - Version 2

Dividing an elementary class into

boys on one side

girls on the other

invites each to imagine one group’s got

            cooties! cooties! cooties!

and vulnerable to those who thrive on power

yet united, we eliminate disease, produce

thriving meccas of cultural exchange,

launch ourselves through the universe…

 

so if you’re invulnerable to ads and rhetoric,

think about a lemon–

thrust your teeth through thick

yellow skin to release zest’s

zinging scent and swallow

tart

puckering

juice.

That saliva now beading your gums…

(more, pg 30, Tishman Review)

 

Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.

wpc