because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

Posts tagged “summer

Off Texas Avenue, the parking lot is littered with memories

From the skinny brown arcs
of ballerinas rooted
in a coltish breeze,
the first brittle leaves drift
limply to still-summer ground,
yellow earthbound stars
five-pointed like fingers
whose reach is destined to be crushed.
there is a silence
that holds underneath the constant hum
of voices, engines, bike treads;
the same we came here seeking
so many years ago. tiny clam shells
scattered among gravel tell how far
the sea has come, calling
to mind a beach road
i saw once, where a black man
in an old truck rode north
with one arm out the window,
the bed full of rusted chains,
whole oil drums full. like the shadow
of the hawk gliding hugely over the rooftops
that bank the park, i want it
to mean something, to be more
than soundless commentary:
a blessing. a washing clean.














the mornings, like so many things, begin
to grow colder.

there’s a heavy dew brushed across the lilac.
petunias closed up like rigid fists in pink and white and red;
the yellow chrysanthemums already popping.

is it too late to hold out hope
of strawberries? of eggplant?
of cotton blossoms by abandoned roads
that make me sad and alone
and in love all at the same time?

like the past that won’t leave

makes me think of snow and secrets
and, for some inexplicable reason,

for all the sad country ju-ly crooners

june river

love is just the lightning
between old
bitterness and the new,
a thunder that tastes like
antique lace catch-
ing in your throat
as if you had swallowed
spiderweb under a honey-
suckled sky with clouds like
cotton-bolls behind a river city
summer choking
with angry greens
& browns, river current
swollen and diverging.
in the low sky
june fireflies wink still,
flashing for loves
of their own.