Clouds and Trees

"Nothing ever goes away enough or arrives enough,/ and I want to cry when I think of my heart,/ muscle pounding in muscle, greedy always for joy." – 'A Warning', Eric Anderson

Month: March, 2010


I hear my memories in the night
hands clasped tightly to my ears
helplessly they echo inside of my head

In lines of light through crinkled leaves
I find myself in another day
somewhere in time with you

Eventually, we would rise from the places our mothers placed us
find ourselves in the solace of the page
the space of our minds expanding with age

When the next world surrounds me
I’ll inhabit someone else’s imagination
make their mind tumble with dreams

For now I float in an ocean of grass
Sargasso Sea keep pulling me through
these currents clogged with weeds or water

In time the thought occurs to you
unexpectedly, some people feed
on the seed of the dead



early robin in a late blizzard
you are nearly too poetic
for me to write about


In water thick with grass
Sargasso Sea you pull me through
the clouds beneath your depths

I grew up in trees
and eventually discovered
that if I stood beside myself
I might break into blossom

I sketched plans inside my head
about the slipping of the wind
and the feeling of new earth
I imagined the scent of death
and becoming another seed

As the air wrapped around me
I heard a buzzing
the sound of something wilting

Underneath the earth I’ve seen the veins of life
coarsing with heat in the wintertime
eternally birthing green in the spring

One Hundred Years Of This

I imagine myself
wishing for warmth
believing in the meaning behind subtlety
A headache comes in my next incarnation —


I move through phases of my relationship with loneliness
which wax and wane like illuminations of the moon
You say Yes, I can commiserate with you
because we are both afraid
of knowing each other

In control I hold myself
by the threads of my friends
and as the whole of time escapes
so am I
afraid of my own evaporation

I imagine myself
rising through the atmosphere
the subtle meaning behind my life
condensing around me

In most moments
I feel as if I am held in place between
falling with the pull of gravity
and dissipating into droplets

I imagine myself
coalesced into a solid stone
unspinning into nothingness
far below the limits of light and darkness

I follow you through
the catacombs beneath my home
Here is where I learned
that death is only this —

the lens through which we interpret
the effervescing of the self
in and out of existence.


When my fingers were wet
I raised yellow stone
from the sodden ground

With furrowed brow
I wove into you an earthen ring
for you to feel the weight of me
gravitational, tugging our centers together

Now, sleeping on the living room couch
I try to imagine how the lines of your shoulder blades
must divide behind your neck
and how they might fit perfectly
around the knot inside my chest

Let the earth rise up around us
someday my ribs will relax
into yours
and we will explore and grow into grass and gold

if I finally figure out
how not to be alone