why i walk

counting people again again. this time

walking through saturday’s

stillness and haze

to the bagel shop for breakfast.

lifting my right hand sternum-high

palm forward

tipping out and over: a wave for every passer-by,

eye contact, and hello.

42 people.

17 on foot

(5 with dogs)

and 25 in cars.

investing 42 hellos

brings the following returns:

walkers:

         12 smiles and/or hellos

(2 before i even spoke,

1 startled, 4 non-commital,

5 genuinely pleased to be met)

            5 ignores

            (3 with headphones to muffle the morning

            1 unaccounted

            and 1 awkward avoidance by

            the man in wellies and bathrobe

            watching empty-handed as his large and wolly dog

            squats to shit on the neighbor’s lawn)

drivers:

            24 ignores, their worlds

            moving pictures sealed behind glass.

            1 open mouthed “o” trying desperately

            to place my unfamiliar face
            before i disappear into her mirrors.

addendum: number of walkers in my sight

            who drifted their hands through the feathery tips

            of the purple fountain grass that grows

  at herkimer and locke:

            2 (of a possible 3)

            number of drivers:

            0 (of a possible 6)

Book Lungs / Multiple Literacies

I'd kind of forgotten that these two web sites were still online. I'm kind of amused that I actually created them as assignments in Teachers' College instead of writing essays. I kind of pity the poor college prof who had to look at them and decide what they had to do with the questions that were assigned. And I'm delighted to rediscover that there's actually some decent poetry hidden in the labyrinth of deliberately obtuse web design and amateur photography, too! There's now a perma-link at the top of the blog, but here are some easy links to get you started the first time...

Multiple Literacies

Book Lungs: The Heart of Textuality

Trio Arjento meets Out With Dad

Exciting news! One of Trio Arjento's songs has been placed in the webTV show "Out With Dad"! Thanks to Jason Leaver and the rest of the talented team that make this wonderful series. We're honored to be a part of the series for a second time.  (For trivia buffs, we were the music playing on the patio at the bar during season 1, episode 5).

 The song used is "Every Word I've Written"--you can think of this as a sneak preview of our upcoming album, since this is the first time and place anyone outside the band will have heard this track. To pre-order your copy of the album, click HERE. To hear a couple more tracks for free before buying, click HERE.

 Here's a link to this week's episode--enjoy! (We're in the background in the bar during Angela's phone conversation with Nathan.)

Lights Across Lakes

it is no darker here than there

but lights across lakes

are perfect points of fire

abstract idea of light

while here we only

smudge the features of the night.

the moon is everywhere at once

but lights across lakes

are one place at a time:

over your table, in your tent

your meals and your dreams

doubled by the water

that doubles the sky.

it is no darker here than there

these lights across lakes

are the same campfires, porch lights

tragic blue tv screens

dreaming for those who cannot sleep

the lake gives back

all the light

that we give away.

modalities

counting people again. i find it
comforting--math
makes sense.

coffee shop this morning has
25 patrons total.

subsets (non-exclusive):

16 laptops
8 with paper and pen
4 in conversation (2 and 2)
3 just sitting (1 and 1 and 1)

and over by the window
a young woman
numberless
with a slice of morning glory loaf
a mug of tea
and a book.

the poet, taking requests

this is not the first time
this has happened to me.

you're a poet? someone says.
well. you should write a poem about
     - zombies
     - the unclassifiable life of slime molds
     - immortal jellyfish
     - my mother, who is wise
     - the birthing process as metaphor
     - texting while driving

amongst others, of course.

each time i nod gravely. i know that
if they have given me this gift, it is because
they suspect a truth lurks there--
fleet metaphor dancing
just beyond their peripheral vision--
and they hope that i
with my broken lines
and sidelong diction
will find the words to make it clear for them.

and i solemnly swear to all you givers of gifts
that every time, i try.
i really do. i have filled a page with words
beneath the title: Immortal Jellyfish

but any poet will tell you: all they ever find
is the sound of their own voice
leaking imperfectly from a pen.

i'm sorry, i have lately learned to say:
you'll have to write that one yourself.

Petroglyphs

(Gibraltar series, probably eventually #6)

some shapes are sacred:

your eyes, your lips,

etched into the canvas

of this granite cliff--

a gift to a future

destined to be

denied your glance,

deprived of your kiss.

my clumsy hands

inscribe you on the world

so love may go on living

when the rest of us is dust.

to live 
just once 
with you

is not enough.

art insists at least

on this: that beauty

not slip past us

unhindered, into the mists.

some shapes are sacred:

your eyes, your lips.