Two poems


Revitalizing

what morning has not known the mountain it must cross

its snowcap and melt around a single spring flower

the blue slate sky fills with zeppelins of clouds

every day a new restoration

a new promise

generations never quite the same twice

this is nothing we can hold still

mornings come

regardless of season

politics

or weather’s meanness

mornings go

like the passage of laughter or sadness

the sky and land are sewn together

parting like lips

when light is an aura

closing when sighing with nightfall

a story settles down for the night

curls its magnificent differences

trying not to wonder

Attachment

Light tries to penetrate the cataracts of clouds.

Stars are rising, making bold statements.

Flowers turn achingly towards scarps of light.

Season keep grinding forward,

following their necessary urges.

I want to be motionless in this light.

I want it to enter me, purpo