Wednesday, November 9
Aurulent sunlight slips past the brick buildings
and casts jagged edges on the pavement
by the wilting periwinkles which are
once again weakly greeting the winter.
And framed by a golden haze stands
a young boy, two feet tall, grinning because,
“Give me a big smile,” his mom says with
a Polaroid gripped in her hands and a scarf
wrapped tightly to fight off the cold.
And looking through the camera’s lens
the mother frames a shot of her 4 year-old son,
with his dark curls and onyx eyes gleaming.
She positions him in the shadow of a statue, a man
who, in 1962, walked through those jagged edges.
Then light blazes briefly—And frozen I stand
a silent intrusion, wondering
about the weight of a photograph…
wishing periwinkles were not forced to face
this insensate chill
The Comings of Dawn
When the Sands of Time billow across the hills and twilight blossoms in the horizon like a flower opening for the sun, you shall know Him. He will come to shed light on the world and cast away all fears. He will look upon thee with eyes filled with Hope and Salvation. Blessed be the One who can look upon His face and know Him in life and death. Only then shall it be known to you, when He turns his head towards the horizon, and the Sun dawns a new day. The answers to Life.
photography by Martha Grace Mize
Those Meet the Press Sundays
Sundays, too, the pack would arrive early
and reveal their backs in the verdant heat,
then with ungloved hands that thrust
and decapitated in their dance made
tangled limbs tumble. I thanked them so much.
I’d bake and hear the neighboring drone, sizzle.
When the line was dead, he’d call,
and promptly I would leap and fan,
fearing the chronic fumings of that room,
Mumbling distantly to him, Midas,
who will drive out the Others
and will soil my good name as well. What does he know,
what does he know of gilded and lonely Oval Offices?
And God Said,
“Let there be light
and those who cannot see it,
those who refuse it and those who prosper by it.
Let there be fire and water to quench it,
life and a means by which to take it.
Let there be those with no legs
who may bend the ear of the many-footed,
those reposing in the orchard
who may not partake in its bounty.
Let there be transience, the passage of Time
and rememory, the will to defy It.
And let there be a boy in recess,
auburn-haired and wood chips stuck to his knees;
let him remember his falling, not to mistake
the ground for air again.
For these are the separations I intend!”
Then He closed His leather notebook,
returned His pen to its proper pocket,
made Himself a sweet tea
and played Al Green until,
head nodding, He fell suddenly
from "Poem #29"
begins like this, with
a few strong words --
I was reminded of my nostalgic thoughts.
Meshed summaries they were.
Jhene Aiko’s lyrics, Wading, in the background.
I prefer my thoughts left cold,
Driving down Old 82
in the weeks of winter's end,
Passing through those spots of towns;
Their opus of long ago already played.
Ballad for H.B. 1523
by Dalton Huerkamp
Ima pinnin’ you up
on a rose-colored page
See the billboards and walls
Its the Milk Carton Age
Had a mutual friend
Met you workin’ at Stage
See the red arrows stacked
Sing on out that birdcage
I was pinnin’ you down
in a flatbed oak cove
See the white points surround
Tied you back and they rode
Not a sight for three days
till the Sheriff he called
You were facedown downstream
Ole Bryant took you away
Now they’re takin’ you down
The page its torn and thrown
See our brown river wide
comin’ up from below.
from "Singed Lace"
At Kayla's wedding
You caught the stocking
I dreamed that
You'd sit me down
Taylor Grace Moore
You died today
And came back to me
I felt you inside of my chest
I heard you in the grocery store
The pristine blankets of altocumulus
Gently sloping into troughs and burgeoning up into peaks
Temptingly tangible, invoking you to take a chance, to try to feel them
Yet, in this sphere they are only air and water--
Late nights have coveted my mornings,
For how quickly does that saccharine dew fade
And leave me in a state of mourning
For the evaporated, decadent crystals who bade