On My Father's Birthday

 

If you ever wonder,

                                               I think of you—

                                               three, four times a day—

                                               whenever I tie my shoelaces,

                                               or any square knot.

                                               ‘Over under, under over,'

                                               you said,

                                               again and again,

                                               until we got it right.

                                               I think of you.

                                               If you ever wonder.

The Seventh Pane of Nine

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Through the seventh pane of nine
        
    She is flame and ivory willow,
                 
        Among the shortened days

           Of smaller friends,

               Crowned now, in Timothy.

She divines,

       With rods of lavender,

             It seems,

                A waltz,

                    Beneath thirty and three hundred chestnut rings.

Bare steps

     Over urchin husks,

            Needling,

                 Witching the swell,

                        That pearls

                             Between knuckles and knees.

    

SC July ‘09

Cutter

I’ve used gardens, marathons and silence,

     God, words and charity.

I’ve used bicycles, music and knowledge,

            Art, food and booze.

I’ve used beards, cars and letters,

                   Nights, books and years.

I’ve used hunger, Vegas and fire,

         Strippers, diamonds and cash…

I’m a Cutter,

              Even this mountain I live on
                                
                                                 Is a blade.



SC