A Stone A Day
Small stones - moments of awareness - on a daily basis.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
December 15 - Sunset at 4:30
Dusk arrives
mid-afternoon, it seems --
this spin to the dark time of the year
has me gasping for light, for air
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Even on a gray day. . .
Exquisite lace
of bare branches
graces
this gray sky
Monday, December 12, 2011
December 12 - Scenes from a Gray Day
Arriving this morning, the building wing
is just a standing wall.
An excavator waits, hungry,
nearby,
to eat up the rest of the building.
Dusk starts at four this close to solstice.
I step out into oddly warm drizzle
this gray, misty, dreamlike
late afternoon.
A reflective stone facing the river behind me.
Friday, December 9, 2011
December 9 - Demolition Day 2
We inhabit brick buildings
As landscapes, enduring --
But they are as mutable, quick to crumble,
As this tender flesh
We are dressed in
Yesterday's demolition of a wing of Norris Hall
Today - just a shell remains of this section
Thursday, December 8, 2011
December 8 - Becoming Rubble
Bite by bite
Of the huge, yellow shovel
These rooms, stairways, windows
Memories
Become rubble
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
December 7 - Coming Down
Like an old, old tooth
Too far gone to save, this old building
Is coming down
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
December 6 - Waiting
Staring and staring
Down the snow-flecked street
Does not speed up
This late bus
Thursday, December 1, 2011
December 1 - Frosty Beginning
Ah - it begins!
Morning wind
Has an icy edge. . .
Snow dusts over November's brown ground
Monday, September 19, 2011
September 19
An unexpected gift:
This moment's peace in evening sunshine
On a lake-bound slip of land
While ducks quack, then take flight before me.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
September 16
Saying farewell to you, again, today,
Graying friends from college, poet friends, gather.
You're the first of us to go.
Now, outside, this tree
Turns early toward winter.
Friday, September 16, 2011
September 16
Jacket weather
Faces a touch glum
Our town rocketed, back and forth,
This time of year between the Meditarranean
And northern Canada
September 14, evening
Every Wednesday evening,
As I walk past the Kenosha
(Italian restaurant below, doorway flanked with flowers),
I imagine living there, urban,
Cosmopolitan
Walking up to my flat on the edge of downtown
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
September 14
This morning's chill
(Sapling maples tinged with red)
Makes it clear:
Summer is ending
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 12
Homeward bound on the bus,
Downdown plaza
Lampposts hung with salmon-hued petunias
Balmy air - it seems
Possible for summer to last forever.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September 11
Worship today is solemn --
We recall horrors
Of ten years before - chaos, bodies falling --
Except - near me at the right,
And farther over to the left,
Babies gurgle, snuffle, speak out --
A counterpoint of new life
Saturday, September 10, 2011
September 10
No better way, this bright, warm,
Mid-day in early fall
To celebrate our anniversary
Than these neighborhood
Yard sales
Friday, September 9, 2011
September 9
Morning sun glints
On the spiderweb strands
Outside my third-floor window
Life abounding, high and low,
All around me
Thursday, September 8, 2011
September 8
Pretending this is Europe:
Perfect afternoon, coffee shop for lunch,
Fountain shooting high, splashing,
Misting into rainbows
Monday, September 5, 2011
September 5
Early September, long weekend ending,
We tilt into Autumn
Slant sunlight in the evening
Brilliant sky, chill in the air
Friday, September 2, 2011
September 1
Summer's last exhalation - -
Hot, moist, air - -
All around campus,
Broken furniture piled near the streets
While freshman fill the quad,
Eager-faced, eating bag lunches
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
August 1
Sitting in comfort and peace
Summer class, student center movie theater
We hear Cambodian confessions
Of killing field killers - remorseful,
Anguished
Human
Sunday, July 31, 2011
July 31
Back in college again
(Wined, dined, and welcomed to a seminar
With alumni)
How the decades shimmer behind us --
Not melting away, but thinning --
As we name professors, classes,
When we were first here, first adult,
Everything still possible
July 30
What wit and verve,
Imagination, insight,
And humor abound
At this miniature SF/fantasy/horror
Convention!
John Rezmerski - poet, humorist
Joan Slonczewski - new book out:
High Frontier
Friday, July 29, 2011
July 29
In the afternoon, going home,
Text from my son:
My old friend's death - too late now
For that talk over old times
My dear, sweet troubadour of the city
Photo from
http://www.thecie.org/mcbride/
July 28
Yes, the river view is lovely
Evening light glows blue
Above river's edge, city profile --
But what am I doing here
In the office?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
July 27
After speeding through four states,
Along river gorges, piney slopes,
Past rock formations and wide ranch lands,
I return here to my cocoon:
The timeless river of email
Pulls me in
July 26
Campground neighbors, my road
Takes me back to tree-shaded office
And unvaried routine,
While you set off this morning for adventure
(Motorcycle, tent-trailer)
Joyous vagabonds
July 25
Outside the car
Gallatin River rushing alongside
Orange and yellow rafts bumping along the rapids
Inside the car, we are in Oxford
With Harriet and Lord Peter
Sunday, July 24, 2011
July 24
Time traveling,
I reach out to you, young and serene
In the photo --
Now decades behind this Now.
My children never knew you:
Kindest one --
Grandmother.
July 23
It wasn't the vows
That caught my heart, but now,
My brother's tears:
His daughter, white-gowned, veiled,
Dancing into the future
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