3 Poems from Azimuth : The Bird Life/The Why Question/Limbo

The Bird Life

You want to know how narrow,

where the ocean is hidden

over the rise, beyond

residential where the gulls live

the bird life. Hovers. Cream.

Going against his wishes. She's

glad he's knowable. Not to visualize

the body missing or not whole,

that body she loved.

Not allowed to comment on memories

believing doesn't change desire.

Yaw, pitch and roll.

In handing down, the handing,

brown hands, smell of soil

a clean smell.  Only the colander

pricked out in little stars,

such a tiny moon.



The Why Question

The why question is never satisfactorily answered. It's a lyric story 
grounded. Women stay home to listen; repeated, the story grows beyond 
its allotment. A bone spur. Old age in a cold castle, the carpet unraveling.

                                           the little god
                                           inside the little god
                                           mouths open
                                           an attention that could be listening
                                           hope in hope out, acceptance
                                           or something not that simple
                                           presently at rest

I can't remember their names right now because of the singing.
The small ones where the heart and lungs are. Argue heart
as sentimental; breath is the historical context. The small clay figures
are located in the thoracic cavity, dressed festively(ceremonially, formally.)
We think memory is a place like a museum. We think like Romans.
It's hard to tell what we're waiting for.


                           Fearing closure, the lovers become two people
                           who are trying to survive:
                           one with a coffin, one carrying a sack.
                           The sweetness of the notes falls on dead air.
                           There is rhythm because of my walking
                           on the leaves, reminiscent of Kurosawa's
                           girl and robber. Such beautiful youngsters,
                           needing a little shrine and a bowl of roses.


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