I love simple wooden chairs. I love how they look against a wood floor. On a porch. Stacked up against a wall. Hanging on a wall (I have an old dark-stained one that I use as a towel rack on the bathroom wall.) I think the artwork at the Oklahoma memorial to the bombing victims, those rows of chairs, is sublime. I wrote a manuscript once about a girl preoccupied with painting landscapes that always had a chair in them. Continue reading “The Thing About Chairs”
Tag: nature
Sea Lesson #4
Some want to swim
To the horizon.
Some want to float
Near the shore.
Waves carry, caress,
Batter, prolong,
Nourish, destroy. Continue reading “Sea Lesson #4”
Sea Lesson #3
The downed pines
Heavy and mute
In their destruction
Are the path now,
No stretch of sand,
No line of seaweed
Even. Continue reading “Sea Lesson #3”
Sea Lesson #2
I found Pluto on the beach.
It nestled in seaweed clumps,
Its loneliness revealed
In its austere singularity
Amidst the surf, Continue reading “Sea Lesson #2”
Sea Lesson #1
There you are
deep inside,
curved legs
against shell,
visible life in death
brought to shore. Continue reading “Sea Lesson #1”
A Visitor to the Quarry
Limestone dust scoots across the road
And filters into the already dying June grass.
The peacock appears at the quarry windows,
Not looking in, not looking at the trucks,
Not engaged in any way with human life,
Abiding in its own peacock world
Of green velvet and sweeping coattails,
Gold-tipped cigarette holder and champagne
Glass, muddled fruit of peach and apricot. Continue reading “A Visitor to the Quarry”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 