The happenstance of blue
This last week has been very full. A trip to Toronto for a family reunion the youngest ages 10 months, the eldest 92, a rare visit from a long time friend, 2 Foundation events and the last week of writing a poem a day for April’s national poetry month.
I have tried three starts at a blog piece this morning:
my grandson asking earnestly where he was when his mother was a child.
the concepts of astrophysics from a poet’s understanding
the vagaries of memory and Alzheimer’s
but I cannot get a prose hold on any one of them. One slips into another, the interrelationship between the three carries into the territory of poetry. The landscape where metaphor and simile bridge in a way that grammatically constructed sentences cannot. And so on this first of May I’ll share a poem from this past month
The stars are a lie of closeness
candles lit by some god
to tell a constellation of stories,
to measure gravity let loose
a quivered breeze, a flicker of wind
scrub brush, desert sand, a startle of butterflies.
After you die you will live
along the creases of my heart
in those small canyons of breath,
a chord in f minor
a shimmer of leaves, a bending branch
the happenstance of blue.