the bridge was burned at dawn by a mere thought of eraser
misplaced perhaps, in the dark hours of dawn
the command-shift-! key took to heart the rage built upon the now cold
cup of coffee left in the garden as the rain came
(no technology will ever duplicate the first scent of petrichor)
damn you all to hell! you bright shiny chips of disaster
think, destroy, burn, water, grow
whatever
hanging over the thicket of brambled forest this acre once unfettered
lies forgotten - ditch water still--broken by deadfall of oak & pine & maple
strangely quiet it hides north of river & sky
tucked
as luck would have these empty hours
perched here in repose & mischief's gloaming loneliness
this day is now ripe with possibility & dragons due to a chance climb among
branches drapped & drapping
over the thicket of brambled forest
oh to remain a leaf here . . . swelling with sun
how could i have forgotten the dark light of my mother's eyes?
I placed all memory upon the bruising swell and forgot
how piercing & lovely she was
how sparkle exploded about her in whiskey & rhythm
smelling of timeless garden fancy & lark cigarettes
zipping her skirts
pleading to try on her heels meticulously boxed at the top of the closet left hand side
meadowlarks, goldenrod ponies & autumn leaves
lithe
precise
smokey beauty
how could i have forgotten
and not realized all the magic she blew my way . . .
this lake lies small and distant
apparent
alive - falling now swift blooming quiet of another time
silence unfreezing
strong they call us . . . .
Original : from Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale
At the bottom of this lake lies the city. From our great height it seems small and distant, but the activity within it is apparent, for even when the city appears to be no bigger than a beetle, it is alive.We are falling now, and our swift unobserved descent will bring us to life that is blooming in the quiet of another time. As we float down in utter silence, into a frame again unfreezing, we are confronted by a tableau of winter colors. These are very strong, and they call us in . . . .
whatever space it was remains . . . .
particles bonded together gathering
exploding in light & air to life ever briefly
remains
until ....
it's all mystery & love
what!??
this space, this moment
but this hole-of-missing? what happens next?
mystery & love
how deeply the sinking, i know
ringed in snapshots of tingling experience
the moon watches
the sun waits for our return to light
li