Bodrum vows

October 26, 2014

music people

— for Jen and Ian

how can we not
be terrified of becoming
less than we dream

I cannot contemplate
the ruins
of Constantinople

love is in
the window
an antiquity

I will not bargain
for it
I will not bargain
with it

before we were
we were music

excavate me
resuscitate me
sing in me your dream

blue crane


hooves and horns

August 20, 2014

Glenn Brown
Spearmint Rhino, 2009



selling out

August 14, 2014

Christopher Wool
Apocalypse Now, 1988



delayed arrival

July 22, 2014


We are not born
with tears.  Your

first dozen cries
are dry.

It takes some time
for the world to arrive

and salt the eyes.

— Kevin Young

NPR Interview


Christmas Poem 2013

February 12, 2014

Cathedral Kitsch

Does God love gold?
Does He shine back
At Himself from walls
Like these, leafed
In the earth’s softest wealth?

Women light candles,
Pray into their fistful of beads.
Cameras spit human light
Into the vast holy dark,

And what glistens back
Is high up and cold. I feel
Man here. The same wish
That named the planets.

Man with his shoes and tools,
His insistence to prove we exist
Just like God, in the large
And the small, the great

And the frayed. In the chords
That rise from the tall brass pipes,
And the chorus of crushed cans
Someone drags over cobbles
In the secular street.

Tracy K. Smith


Kagiso and Erica

December 2, 2013

The Rest in the Music

Before the first note is played
In the middle of a bar
Between movements
At the end of a piece

The rest in the music

Certainty of eternity

— blue crane

To the New Year

With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible

— W.S. Merwin


terrible blame

November 18, 2013

sleeping beauty

when she woke up
she was terrible.
under his mouth her mouth
turned red and warm
then almost crimson as the coals
smothered and forgotten
in the grate.
she had been gone so long.
there was much to unlearn.
she opened her eyes.
he was the first thing she saw
and she blamed him.

Lucille Clifton


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