Friday, April 14, 2006

Two for one:

On back of a Kaunis Kampela receipt
I write out of context
the noises of the bar.

Though clinking glasses fill
& sacred smoke like incense drifts
upwards to the fish,
bolted to the ceiling;
though revellers murmur,
the cheats smile through white teeth,
though the world is wrapped for inspection

I write these lines:

I'm not the kind of girl
who does this... normally.
My dad would not approve.

I'd heard it all before.
I'd hear it all again,
& every time it was true.

(Truth is what we agree...)

Her shoulders drop, her voice
lingers over the sounds
as she begins... O gossip!

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Work like the sky
& sing like a diner

Roll like the waitress
& creep like the tide

Nature is a game
(time on a stick)
& I gaze through my window
on a digital sunset

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

This almost says what I want it to say...
The Road Is Long, But Relief Is on the Way

Any trail worth following is
worth leaving now & then.

Trails only move two ways,
but sidepaths are wisdom's
gateposts, are thoughts made flesh.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Traveling makes routine impossible. I am obviously a creature of routine, because while I had time, I couldn't put together any poems. (Or whatever...) I am a creature of habit, but when traveling I give up normal life and go with the flow. I think people make their biggest mistake traveling when they try and live like they do at home. There is probably a message in that for coping with Finland, but it's hard to give up everything all the time...

So, I am in the hole several poems, but let's get on with it. This is today's offering:
Snowflakes meet snowdrops,
seagulls squawk from the rooftops.
All portend spring, but...


On April 3rd I tried scratching out a poem, but here is all I managed...
At last the rain
Rain came at last
& the streets ran
with like


Frogs sang under the rain

Then I gathered myself for another assault:
When rain Rain came at last
(greeted by frog song)
& the medley of
thunder,

Okay... I realized there were issues with this crap.
I know Cliches are to be resisted
but I can't help feeling
feelings tucked into drawers
be new, be something never seen before
be more, be better than anyone else...

So when I say the sky weeps with me
you may toss it into the trash
with all the other things already thought.
But it does not make it less real

So, maybe I needed to try something else:
Frogs croak it,
sing it in the rain
plants shape it

Or how about:
Frogs croak it, sing it in the rain
plants shape it, bend around its form
&


"Stay, stay," frogs croak.
"Go, go."


Frogs entice me (sing a song of summer)
rain lulls me to accept the thunder
plip-plip patter of plinking dots


I love
the frog
that croaks in the rain
& love the rain
that runs down the street

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Saturday, Sunny, High 77

The sun outside had made even
the office park
into a blossomed paradise.

Everyone said, "The weekend will
be wonderful"
& turned from the window back to work.

The clickity-clack of keyboards
testified strength
& on the alters of their desks

they sacrificed the bright sun light;
their monitors
flickered like candles in a church.

It is disappointing then that
when Saturday
dawned like steel wool & scoured their hopes

they did not storm their office halls
to smash their desks
& make trophies of paper clips;

& in anger, they did not burn
their swivel chairs,
or throw their laptops from the roof.