The She-Bat
Bats did not live in the eaves,
you said, nor did bumblebees though
three attended her in death. We
found her like a crumpled
glove, brown leather, on the step
before your study door as if
she had been knocking there
for a very long time.
I wonder how long the ardent
thing had banged about the attic,
alone, craving
the lidless evening—the bat
without her mate, without a bite
to eat (I do not think
she had a taste for bees).
After how much high-pitched calling out
and how much awkward singing
did she fall before the door?
I think she knew it was a door.
That is what terrifies and grieves me.
“The She-Bat” is from Imaginarium (Loonfeather Press, 2005).
Peace Is the Blithe Distraction
Peace is the dream you sleep for.
Peace is a lily shared by two people with knives.
Peace is prettier, but war has more to say.
Peace may not be possible with everybody.
Peace is the death of history.
Peace is what the war dead don’t get to enjoy.
Peace is what happens when you ask a plain girl to dance
and find out she’s not so bad after all.
Peace makes you forget that other people are planning your destruction.
Peace is the hope that those who oppose you will also listen to you.
Peace is passing up the dessert tray of revenge and hoping your enemy
will do the same.
Peace lets you appreciate many small annoyances because you know
they are not war.
Peace is never complete, though one dreams of the fullness thereof.
“Peace Is the Blithe Distraction” is from Fair Creatures of an Hour (Loonfeather Press, 2009).
To the Present
Jump in the air.
Simplest tense.
You are,
but what you are
I scarcely know
since you keep
popping in and out
of existence.
Rarely have I lived
in your opportunity—
but more often
in old sorrows, new worries.
I stand before your conveyor belt
like Charlie Chaplin
in Modern Times,
behind in all things,
late and quickly.
Hangliders and lovers
say I should seize you—
but for your is,
there’s nothing at all.
Yet often my courage falters,
and, like you, I am
a terrible waster of hours.
“To the Present” is from Fair Creatures of an Hour (Loonfeather Press, 2009).
To the Future
Fountain of the forward notion.
Crossroads of freewill
and dumb luck.
Science says I can reach you
relatively unwrinkled. Then in your clouds
only the faces of clocks
will be as vain as I.
Utopia. Tragedy.
Washboard of the mega-tsunami,
hot tub of the warm globe,
distant city of shimmering inventions,
you only love
what’s new. Nostalgia and loyalty
with their pleading faces
just annoy you.
Between you and me so far,
it’s been a pretty good run.
Sometimes I even think
our prospects are improving.
But I know you: you embrace many
and drop each one—
for you always
an endless stream
of willing companions.
Like me.
And to keep you,
I will put up with almost anything.
“To the Future” is from Fair Creatures of an Hour (Loonfeather Press, 2009).
