The thin line

I t doesn’t take much to change a charmed existence and as 2012 (hopefully a much better year for the world) breathes its hot breath on this icy night, I reprise a poem about just that which originally appeared in Loch Raven Review in its Winter 2010 issue:

 

Oblivion Is Also the Name

of a trail, white gash
on a high shoulder
of Mt. Tecumseh, skier?s right.

At age eight, Ben flew
off the icy lip, disappeared
over a cliff while brightly

colored skiers flashed
above like tropical fish
unaware of sharks

beyond the reef. Zeus took pity
and gave me strength
to clamber down

to retrieve my boy
from precarious perch
holding tightly to an ash,

slightly stunned, teary,
goggles broken, flag-
starred racing helmet

the thin thread
between darkness
and our fortunate lives.

Was my heart beating harder
than his? How many times
each day do we near

those threads, slight
as the lightest monofilament
that even the fish cannot see?


Not that long ago…

It was summer.  So despite the October snow, I thought I’d bring back this midsummer ramble.

 

High Summer in the Upper Valley

There really is a Windy Blood Lane:
exit the pond on Potato Road,
forget the two pairs …


The Night Before Irene, Good Night Irene


What I Wish I Knew at Twenty-One

I.

We struggle to see the green flash;
in summer, sit patiently
on the gray deck at twilight
facing Cuttyhunk and her sister isles

as fog dissipates and navigation tower
emerges at the entrance to Newport Harbor
like some oversized …


Most Certainly Not Electronic

There is still some snow in the woods and hollows but it’s definitely spring now. Still, a mailbox poem seemed in order in all this rain.


Robert Frost on alternatives to being a poet

“Nothing flatters me more than to have it assumed that I could write prose – unless it be to have it assumed that I once pitched a baseball with distinction.”…


Thoughts about Mideast Oil in the last century…

The Laws of Supply and Demand

Even numbered days
of the month you?d be blessed,
but only if your plates

ended in 2, 4, 6 or 8,
the odd ones plangent
until the next day, stuck

perhaps, a self-stratified
civilization …


Three Mailbox Poems (for the end of 2010)

I. Beyond the Mailbox

This afternoon, nothing
stirs, save a vernal stream
convinced it is April instead
of November.  Lone blue jay
balances on a branch.  A few
scraggler leaves shiver
in the bare wind,
refuse to give in
like …


Stick Season Haikus

Hard mowed meadow
still cattails mark pond. Outfall
pours glass to river.

Errant bumblebee
tunnels inside through siding,
she thinks it’s spring!


Candyland

Halfway up the hill
beyond the pond
across the field
in back of the house
there’s a little knoll
where he pauses
when heading for gumdrop summit
deer stop there too
even an occasional coyote
there is something
magic beans …