Sunday
21Aug2005
advent
Sunday, August 21, 2005 at 10:26AM For years i rang bells here,
the fifth alto being "mine."
i had long claimed it as my own.
Note, that not all of these poems are about summer - to be clear.
They were written in the summer of 2005, 2006, 2007 and, we expect surely, beyond; some may be love poems, others angry or sorrowful and some yes, we hope about summer itself and inspired by the season -- summer & all it brings - necks, throats exposed, parks in full bloom, the risen sap, the women in their summer dresses, hips swaying, body moving, the men - hair waving in the heat. summer comes full on and we take it as it comes... whether easy or soft, hard or with joy, we write what we live, what we see or imagine or know or intuit. We document what we see, feel, taste.
Note, that our Love Poems section will still have new additions, as will our sections for France.
The world is there for the writing. - s.r.p., midwinter, 2008
Sunday, August 21, 2005 at 10:26AM Monday
30May2005
american gothic | a poem
Monday, May 30, 2005 at 12:24PM It is Sunday early summer. The close thunder rolling. We two beneath white sheet. I breathe the scent of you. Rain slaps the windows
Saturday
06Aug2005
August 4th, 1994
Saturday, August 6, 2005 at 05:45PM In the overheated, overcast of August 4th,
2005, I found myself quite by accident in
the shop where you found for me the first
gift you would give. A necklace – garnet,
glowing and so rich, “To match your hair,”
Monday
24Jul2006
birthday kiss
Monday, July 24, 2006 at 08:15PM What if it should happen;
what if in the middle of the field as the sky dimmed
our hands slipped naturally - fell each to the other and held,
would you then be bold enough to take it; or would that ambivalence abound
Sunday
26Aug2007
bravery
Sunday, August 26, 2007 at 11:48AM You call me Brave.
Brave because I say what must be said;
You do not see I fear it too.
We are not so different.
Thursday
22Jun2006
cold war or episcopal voodoo
Thursday, June 22, 2006 at 09:26AM How boring of you to become suddenly so dull.
A tree that offers no shade only bright sunlight –
no summer respite for this humid, damp skin.
Why you won’t even play hand-slap or staring games.
Thursday
27Jul2006
dog days of summer
Thursday, July 27, 2006 at 11:46AM The dog-days of summer; an expression I never did understand
Humidity blankets the coast in a haze.
and the beach begs to be walked and I do… take in wave after wave
Ought I send my message in a bottle, but then what it would say.
Wednesday
12Sep2007
downtown, 5:30 a.m.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007 at 07:08AM The taxi stops on the early-morning corner.
Just as I am inhaling a final desperate drag on a sometimes cigarette.
Such a drag not to finish, but taxis are rare this week.
Bless him for stopping; I could kiss the yellow door.
Thursday
23Jun2005
early summer | late fall
Thursday, June 23, 2005 at 05:06PM There is no point in my writing words of nicety.
Those poems of love, sentimental regression.
What point then, to speak of your three-wheeled
creaking chair. The one I recall from those first early
days of late summer, early Fall. Our two week
Monday
18Jun2007
eighty-eight degrees | 88
Monday, June 18, 2007 at 07:48AM Eighty-eight degrees, you – me
an orchard where we kiss, cousin
my summer slip loosed, hip-hiked your left-hand
moving in smooth circles as you
trace each grouping of
Tuesday
04Jul2006
entendu
Tuesday, July 4, 2006 at 01:26PM Nous nous-entendons . We hear each other.
Keep to plan, sleight of hand, you appear, then disappear.
The sunset slipping, me in my peach pale slip, pale slip of a girl,
nymph who peers to glassine envelope of water.
Thursday
11Aug2005
exile
Thursday, August 11, 2005 at 05:55PM The sea needs something to do.
Sends wave after wave,
each slapping harder at my face.
'She says: This you deserve.
I am her bitch. back-broken, haggard.
Tuesday
04Jul2006
fall at your feet
Tuesday, July 4, 2006 at 01:23PM It is the sound of my footsteps that alarms.
They are one, singular. Without you, I am incomplete.
Half a person, wanting and yearning, I parse the miles,
I stretching to you, trying to reach your long arms, yet never quite
Monday
30May2005
flotsam
Monday, May 30, 2005 at 08:32PM A few words of love were all that were needed.
Thug, back-alley bully.
The shell you carry on your back; a hermit crab.
Your white house does not protect you;
Saturday
17Jun2006
forecast
Saturday, June 17, 2006 at 07:53PM He speaks to me of the high, high cirrus that streak across
an otherwise clear morning sky. Of strato cumulus and of grey days
and of snow heavy skies. Of floating white nimbus against
Thursday
01Sep2005
heat
Thursday, September 1, 2005 at 01:19PM It was July and it was hot and like a cat,
some animal, all heat and want and desire
I sniffed you out. Found that thing for which
I did not know I had been looking and it was you.
You, you, you and you alone would soon become
the shape of all that I desired, desire running deep.
Tuesday
22Aug2006
ictal moment - two word poem per c.e.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006 at 02:28PM A few seconds perhaps, brief absence.
Petit mal.
Passing image – a smile,
it travels quick, slides across the table
Sunday
19Jun2005
in the aftermath, the awfulness of mania ~
Sunday, June 19, 2005 at 11:42AM In the aftermath, the awfulness, the wasted time of mania
you’ll find me dropping alligators, tears the size of lakes,
tepid, pure. No one sees such things; I keep to darkened rooms
hazel-eyed and blank it is myself I would shut up for self-murder,
for all the hurt, the fucking up, the not getting it right.
Saturday
28May2005
In the Heart of the Afternoon
Saturday, May 28, 2005 at 12:31PM I remember the gentle tap Of my shoes on cobblestone On the linden-lined street That led to the brownstone Where we’d meet.
Sunday
07Aug2005
Indian summer | Her curse
Sunday, August 7, 2005 at 05:46PM I remember the awful late summer
The one you and she labeled Indian
as if the rounded, golden harvest moon
belonged to you and would have nothing
to do with the rest of us. We were specks,
mere witnesses to your cheap passion play,