Three poems

Playing a bit of catch-up today.

Thursday afternoon at the bookstore, realizing I am there for the wrong reasons

I am looking for a memoir
but learn it is not due
for another two weeks

I wander from rack to rack
and stack to stack
curiosity piqued by nothing

Colors, names, familiar phrases
spark not a spark

I open another book
but am dismayed
by the deliberate structure

There is emotion here
but I cannot see the poems
for the words on the page

They may be trying
to speak to me
but I feel nothing

Not even the drowning
depicted in the photograph

(20 May 2021)

Talk about all the things that are fleeting

The red bird is almost invisible
the red sofa dominates the scene—
but not the one in front of the palace

They probably took that one away
after the cameras were all packed up

If you were to turn around now
the white leaves on the tall trees
might seem to dwarf the humble setting

or you might look at the desert as a classroom
and walk slowly to where you expect X
to mark the spot

But someday the treasure
will be someone else’s to find—
or to bury

(18 May 2021)


I didn’t know
Blank Reg was on Voyager

Sometimes people show up
in the oddest places

And we watch

The artist raises her hand
in good-bye
and says ‘hello’

We accept the contradiction
because it’s art

And we watch


The universe
as we imagine it
is very much
like living on Earth

Will we be welcome?

(16 May 2021)

(posted 21 May 2021)

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