Monthly Archives: May 2013

Two Cinquains for the End of May

Today I saw my first lilac flower of the year, full-sized, purple, but the florets not yet open—just one lonely flower on a vine-choked lilac in the brushy tangle under skinny poplars at a street corner. Two Cinquains for the … Continue reading

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Contain Yourself, Spring

Contain Yourself, Spring You burst at the seams with greens you can’t hold—and still splash reds and yellows at evening’s blue skies.

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Apple Blossoms Fade Long Before They Fall

Apple Blossoms Fade Long Before They Fall These apple blossoms barely burst from buds before their deep red begins its fade through pink to white—watch, our hair turns grey as they fall.

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Low Tide at Sunset

Low Tide at Sunset Dead low tide as the sun slips down a late May sky. The wind has died and in early evening stillness the old lindens creak as they strain slow leaves through bent twigs towards a green … Continue reading

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May 28

May 28 Late, late apple blossoms finally unfolding their dark red petals, deigning to beckon summer to bring nearer its insouciant nights and radiant days awash in salt waves.

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Late May Forget-Me-Not Blues Tanka

Late May Forget-Me-Not Blues Tanka Poor forget-me-nots, I see you shiver, huddle, in the late May cold and know why you are so blue this spring—I yearn for warmth too.

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Bury Your Face in the South Wind of May

Bury Your Face in the South Wind of May Do not shun the south wind. Its cargo is summer— rain and birds and awakening insects. And when It shifts slightly west the flowers grow wild in their sorrow, bloom dangerous … Continue reading

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Roaming Between Flowers (Yes, We Are the Fucking Birds and the Bees)

Roaming Between Flowers (Yes, We Are the Fucking Birds and the Bees) We lay down together and we savour every place our tongues can reach. There is salt, and sweet, and sour, and, way back near our throats, a lingering … Continue reading

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Where the Wind Turns the Rain to A Many-Tailed Lash

Where the Wind Turns the Rain to A Many-Tailed Lash Out here, where the wind turns the rain to a many- tailed lash the trees groan and shudder under, she walks because at home she’d only hear all night, in … Continue reading

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After The Rain

After The Rain After the rain, silence, and the white moon dancing on the scatter of wet cherry petals.

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The Elms Want the Late May Moon Too

The Elms Want the Late May Moon Too Barely awake, and still not dressed in late May, elms cast sinuous limbs up to hold the moon.

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Late May Late Afternoon Sun

Late May Late Afternoon Sun Hello blue sky and sun. I don’t think the tulips missed you at all, and the lilacs still wait to bloom, long-suffering, but the apple blossoms— some are livid now, others red, sullen.

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Blackbird Palinode Tanka

A bit about palinodes here, and the link within the poem leads to the one this turns back on. Blackbird Palinode Tanka The blackbirds grow mute and hunch their red shoulders down when I open up my throat—even the moon melts … Continue reading

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The Mating Trill of the Red-Winged

The Mating Trill of the Red-Winged Out of the reeds ringing the edge of the marshy pond draining slowly into the harbour rises the mating trill of the red-winged blackbird. Every now and then one flies up to perch and … Continue reading

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When Late May Frosts

When Late May Frosts Even the half-moon spends most of the night tugging thick blankets of cloud back over the sky, so what of the fading magnolias, the apple blossom buds, and the delicate lilacs in their embryonic clusters, and … Continue reading

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Magnolia Palinode (and process notes)

The other day my friend Andrew,  of the fine tankawanka blog, brought the concept of the palinode to my attention. I hadn’t heard of it before that. Basically a palinode is a poem in which the poet retracts something said in … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Astronomy, Cinquain, Creativity, Death, Epistemology, Magnolias, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Spring | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Premature Epitaph for A Painter (a request, process)

The other day my friend Marie Fox, the painter, was telling me about a self-portrait she’s working on (no, not the painting above—that’s one I stole from her artist page for this post). She said, “John, I think it needs … Continue reading

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Two Cinquains for Mid-May

Two Cinquains for Mid-May 1. Corner of Rochford and Kent Today the one yellow magnolia, always last to bloom, finally lit its frail pale suns. 2. Just Open the Damn Apple Blossoms Already Apple blossom buds wait, encrypted on branches, … Continue reading

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May’s Crescent Moon Falls Quickly

May’s Crescent Moon Falls Quickly The moon falls quickly down the western sky tonight— its hooks find more purchase in me than stars.

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At the Neil Young Magnolia Bodyshop in Mid-May

The other day a friend sent me a couple of such gorgeous fading magnolia poems that I had to find a whole new angle from which to approach the idea…. At the Neil Young Magnolia Bodyshop in Mid-May Gotta blame … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Cinquain, Creativity, Magnolias, Memory, Music, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Spring, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment