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Micro poetics

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For a couple months, I briefly re-opened (and then closed!) a tw!tter account simply so I could play with words there.

I enjoyed the word count limit – it asked me to pare down some longer poems to their most potent pith. Here are my favorites…

Deep in the dark<br />
Of earth's mantle<br />
I am molten lava<br />
Formless<br />
But still<br />
Waiting<br />
Dreaming<br />
Singing<br />
Breathing<br />
When at last I erupt<br />
I will be diamonds
It's good to stay alert<br />
for the shifting winds<br />
Stay flexible<br />
like that tree out there<br />
Stripped bare, naked<br />
so she might bloom again<br />
Tonight is quiet<br />
and the mist gathers<br />
Soon wind and rain<br />
and a tumult of trains<br />
Keep listening
The wind. she is silent<br />
But everybody talks to her<br />
Everybody is an instrument she<br />
plays<br />
Are raven wings beating<br />
one of her favorite songs also?<br />
Or cottonwoods shimmering?<br />
Now the world is a thin song<br />
Frozen still<br />
And occasionally a deep howl
Underground<br />
An obsidian black river<br />
carries down the stars<br />
To be buried as seeds<br />
for next year's garden<br />
Some will explode<br />
Some will fizzle<br />
Some may rest for awhile..<br />
If you were a star<br />
How deep<br />
would the river carry you?<br />
And can you be still<br />
and wait?
I am a girl<br />
in winter's garden<br />
Measuring out meager rations<br />
that feel like feasts<br />
For those small moments<br />
of shared beauty<br />
Song of a bird<br />
Swirl of the kitten's fur<br />
A shimmer of warmth And then night<br />
Long, contemplative night
Slow winter yoga<br />
Followed by sips of whiskey<br />
Must keep the sap flowing<br />
Even if slowly<br />
So that I may bend<br />
in that stern, frozen breeze
I want to greet the birds with singing<br />
My compatriots in bringing joy<br />
simply by being themselves<br />
in a world that longs<br />
for the freedom<br />
of both song and flight
Moonshadow naked limbs<br />
spider their way<br />
across the bare clay<br />
Every which way they reach<br />
their ghostly arms southward<br />
to claim their stretch of night
A mantle of shadows<br />
shakes down from low clouds<br />
rests heavy on my shoulders<br />
like a sealskin<br />
Now I can dive into<br />
even the winter sea<br />
waves wild and sharp<br />
with the striking smash<br />
of all we've known<br />
The ocean claims her own
As of yesterday<br />
The juncos have started singing<br />
their spring song<br />
Proud chested little things<br />
Trills in the trees<br />
Life seeking life<br />
Another year begins
Sometimes no growth appears<br />
But really, all life is in the roots<br />
Strengthening connection<br />
with the ground<br />
Seeking deeper for water<br />
Holding onto soil and stone<br />
Hunkering under where it's warm<br />
Do plants yearn for springtime?<br />
Or do they just do what it takes,<br />
each moment complete?
Have you ever tried to force open an unfurling leaf?<br />
A bud or blossom before its time?<br />
That's a quick route to sudden death.<br />
Slow down<br />
Plant seeds<br />
Tend the true pace of things

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All written in the southern New Mexico desert

 

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