Posts Tagged ‘space’

Eclipse, Remotely

The moon dimmed opposite
the world from us,
dimmed in a shuttering
we both missed, its slide
a slow eyelid drowsing down
with the waning afternoon, with our
waning wakefulness, waning
attention drawn among too many screens,
our minds like sacking
split along seams and beans
scattering from tear to countertop.
Had I brush or broom,
patch and thread, another mind
and pair of eyes to home
onto the vanishing craters,
the mares muddying the shadow’s cusp,
I might divide my focus,
hold you and the moon
along with the burr and the grind.

Read Full Post »

Perseid, 2012

The wait was longer than we wanted
in the unmown grass, and for half
of it we craned, reckoning our gaze
through a window in the canopy
whose narrowness and brightness
we complained of, a hue more fade than absence,
like a sheet too often washed, then linted down
and flung, haphazard on a bed, with little care
for crease or corner. We thought only
later of the tattered blanket from the library,
brought out so we might lie there, side by side,
the way we’d started only nights before
to watch the ardent crew watch waylaid data that announced
another craft on Mars. We rescued one abandoned
hope each minute, until a cataract
ran lengthwise down our view, like a doe
turned silver by the moon, escaping
just inside the tree line.

Read Full Post »


All the old ships,
in plank and pitch,
canvass rippling down
under play of drafts and vortices,

all the old ships wore their way
through barnacle and spray,
looking out from the nest
in the wait for dry land.

My watchers in their
grounded nests trail now
a quarter-hour behind
while the land I spy

rests, dry and bright,
the crane in flight no
harbinger of shore
or wetland. No tides

may draw me into harbor
while, a world away,
a long night breaks
under the wait for solid ground.

Read Full Post »

for #JoCoCruiseCrazy

How easy a state to dismiss, the whole of us
overtired, overexcited, hung over, our footing
undermined by a subtly roiling sea
while we forestall the final
moments of a journey nearly done.

In sixteen hours the last of us
will disembark and scatter, diaspora concurrently
overwrought and insufficient.

Yet none of us, except in jest, in the six
seconds between the end and the applause,
attempts a feint. We together endure six silent,
grieving seconds for a shattered craft
sixteen minutes from home, on the sixth
night we’ve known one another.

Although we didn’t know,
this is all we wanted to bring home.


Liner note

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: