Line at the Restroom
They canoe across the lake to take a leak.
*
Seasick
He lies flat on the pitching deck among the humpbacks.
*
Unemployed Railfan
An appreciative grunt for the SD40-2s hauling Chinese shipping containers up the mountain.
*
State Forest
We drive through a small rainstorm that seems lost, too.
*
Outhouse Race
The occupant’s role is to sit still & look urgent.
*
In the Heel of Italy
Too hot to sleep, they call a friend in the U.S. & listen to him drink a cold beer.
You always give these such breadth. It’s as if you set an alarm and compose each one-line poem an hour or two or three after the last previous one. So spacious, taken together.
My favorite is “Seasick.” It’s almost Eliot (whom I love).
My second favorites: “Line at the Restroom.” I love saying, “the lake to take a leak.” (And lovely iambic meter, all the way through!) “State Forest” ties for second.
Thanks for the generous evaluations, Peter. “Seasick” was the first one I wrote, posted to Identica and Twitter on Friday as a three-line haiku. I think the challenge with this sort of poem is to keep the conception as simple as possible. “Unemployed Railfan” for example tries to say too much, I think, and ends up feeling labored. I must’ve played with alternate wordings there for half an hour or more. “State Forest,” by contrast, came out fully formed after just a couple minutes’ thought.
I love ‘State Forest’.
I’ll have a go:
The Forever Beach
We lay on all the white sand, pinned flat like starfish between two vanishing points.
Nice. I am picturing a beach covered with the pale bodies of sun-starved British folk.
Canal walk
In the rain-dimpled surface, we saw reflections of past and future.
Beach Day
Wave-washed, sun-bronzed; but the one who refused to go in the water, burnt as toast.
Harbor Views, Sunset
Dragonfly wings; ships’ masts for veins.
Oooh! I like!
Forty eight summers ago, on our maiden dance, I knew I had only one left foot, but almost died to discover I had two.
SUMMER DANCE
Armed with magnifiers, they trace the forms of thousand-year-old letters.
Title should be “A Pennsylvania Scriptorium”…
Some of y’all take very interesting vacations!
Loch Ness
We so want to believe in a lone swan at dusk on dusky water.
This says something about belief in general I really like, especially since one can take it in two different ways.
Long Days Before Me
Long days before me, a kingdom of green in the trees, children’s games, each time I refresh my browser.
Short let
In a house that isn’t ours, we squeeze a different life into a week.
Love this.
We waited for things to happen.
So true.
How We Rock Friday Nights
End table, coffees, manga, poetry, geekery; the bookstore staff knows us almost by name.
Morning, Evening
Egg yolk sun, crumpled aluminum foil moon.
Grandma’s House
Swept the sand of a distant beach spilled from children’s shoes under the fretwork of my doormat.
This is a deep one.
ALEPH Kallah
Immersed in prayer and song, I yearned for my son’s high-pitched babble.
What summer vacation?
Grand prize winner! :)
For the win!
Convalescence
Too unwell to travel, we take chairs down to the river, sit and count the geese.
Love this…like Basho.
Yeah, Leslee can turn out a mean micropoem when she puts her mind to it.
Geez, thanks you guys!
Summerflung
Made a fool of myself, as usual.
BAGUIO SUMMER ON MY MIND
Skating, sailing at Burnham Park, I stole my first kiss, and carved her name on a pine tree’s lustrous bark.
SUMMER SUNDOWNS
Now we watch summer sunsets on porches while we play our waiting game, wondering if her name is still among the branches.
Mediterranean Noon
Back home, my body felt.
Breakfast with my Mother
I dreamed I would die in January or February, she said.
Wow.
Double wow. Breathless.
SINGAPORE
Muggy days and evening showers – a regular pulse throbbing yearlong. What seasons?
Long nightly dog walks in the humid, fragrant air.
I don’t have to return the way I came.
Hotel California
Driving out into the unknown along an unpaved, dusty, desert highway cursing those who sent us and returning along that same road mocking those that didn’t follow.