13 West Side Road 1997.jpgWinter poems - these may not reflect the brutality of winter or the bitterness - or not always anyway - perhaps at times. As with any season, we experience different things at different times. Part of The Tant Mieux Project was to see how the seasonal shifts affect our work... going through the seasons does help clarify. Other poems is an interesting section that is carried from season to season for poems that defy categorization, but then, as I write this, I wonder if most poems do not defy categorization. The world is ours for the writing. Let us write. - s.r.p.

 

image: owen hartford, '13 West Side Road' 

Tuesday
Feb072006

misjudgment

In those snow-bright

early winter days I was

dazzled by your friendship.

So intensely familiar, your love

offered with such pomp as

a high priestess offers the acolyte

the lotus candle. I bathed in its light.

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Thursday
Nov182004

moment

It is nothing more than a moment. An eye-catch, a flitted blinik, some thing that happend and only for a while. It is brief: almost too brief. A few seconds perhaps, at most fifteen minutes. Yet some are recalled for eternities. These quick minutes, a moment relived

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Sunday
Nov142004

mourning dove's dervish

Watch : how carefully her instinct is exacted. predatory, protective she builds nests, fused with the refuse of othe

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Sunday
Nov142004

night falls fast

This near stranger, near to you, your body crushed against hers, beating a fury you cannot reconcile Eros, domesticity. After

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Sunday
Nov142004

nonsense rhyme number 1; the boonsnap kissnip rye

Oh, love the kisssnip goodin

 

The arching lum pum ginsing

 

Oh crannon ining cree lim, riddle

 

Comme on dit to sweet and honeyed

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Friday
Jan072005

note

See, I make for you a gift! My cherry-red cheeks! My tacit close-lipped silence. Now, i am perfect. A quiet, pinkened house frau.

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Sunday
Nov142004

october apple picking

The apple tree's smooth & knotted limbs out-stretched,
golden, red skin of fruit as it beckons.
Why, it aches to be climbed!

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Tuesday
Jan042005

ode of now....

Tonight, even the sea is furious. she will not hold your lies, nor keep secret your comings, your goings, the way you line up the words, a half-smile on your face as if to make each

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Thursday
Jan052006

of light and of mania

Blood thump, manic hump

Days bright as cider at any

Given picnic. I drink it down,

Suck the juice while I can before

The good doctor washes clean, removes

Such light, lovely, trip the light fantastic

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Tuesday
Jul042006

pier II

Unholy kin, why the hard slap smack – ocean's wake-up call.

She breathes brine and salt, low-tide kelp.

It wafts in through the window. I am taken with its perfume,

heady and redolent – it stretches for miles, the seemingly infinite

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Tuesday
Feb072006

Singular

I am one. Singular.

You do not even try

to connect. Forget the

vials of medicine. The

soporific salts. The miles

of electrodes, the sticky

glue that follows, leaves

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Monday
Dec172007

sparkle

I am waiting for the holocaust of trees.
The sparkle, snow-bright, colored lights.
They flash only danger.

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Sunday
Dec232007

summer's end

Summer has slipped by and I have landed hard;
a jarring awakening to first winter frost
    opposite of what was –
balm, spice, waxing privet.

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Sunday
Nov282004

the bee winter

I am parched, bedrock dry. All week I pray for rain; some sign, the deluge baptismal A balm that soothes The swarm and buzz Of the brain, head pain, That begs to be quenched

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Friday
Dec102004

the deception

For weeks I believed It was i. that none other Could hold your heart, your love, Your sex, not after was had

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Saturday
Nov262005

the driveway winter poem

There is nothing here but cigarette butts and leaves

some lethal combination that contrive to blow the car up

while one day I sit writing poetry and the big kaboom goes kaboom

or whatever a kaboom sounds like and I wish the blast

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Sunday
Dec262004

the great escape - december, 2004

You are not here.

You do not see what I see.

Refuse to heed my reports. ‘

All is not well.

When she found them,

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Friday
Dec282007

the heavy swell

This is my wide Atlantic.
Each day I visit; tend to my sea,
my sea-change eyes reflected back its rippled greys.
This is the safe-harbor where I would bring you.

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Thursday
Dec162004

the heavy tide

if you could look at it for just one moment you would see. No threat, just a bare-wristed girl, lily-white and faltering. She tries to stay above

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Sunday
Nov142004

the necklace

A rose-rich candle breathes its scent to our house, the white folded linens, hold our history, and the palest blanket of snow has fallen, white-blue,

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