Interstice

Swimmer’s feet kick off from
rock’s end into new shallows

in-between of suspension
heart buoyed up by succession
of events as lived in our 30s

a new clarity happens
with each turn of calendar,
as with erosion, distillation,

settling of silt onto river
beds and ocean floors

I wade with purpose until
I can only float

Swimmer’s body leans into water

lies down onto horizon
to glimpse the depths of fish

 

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“A Perhaps Hand”

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Spring is a slap to the senses — go out, be happy, live! — now that the light stays longer there is cause for wide-open eyes and heart that billows out to any body of water. The tree that you have been watching all fall, all winter, in the school lot, giving out on hope that its perfectly formed branches will awaken with lime-green murmurings — yet it happened overnight, pushed out buds like tiny babies no one ever cared about, in a small rural town in Delaware — I pretend to possess the stealth of waiting, wistful-faced treading slowly on asphalt, on my way to the car.


City Limits

Habitual return into lands
of outer Philadelphia
highway along reeds and pale water
grey a source for exhale, exile
power plant giants call the edge
their home — these late afternoon
hauls and winding hum from lane
to dust-shaded pavement darkened
in deep-thought rain — always the bridge
is its blue, and its criss-cross beams ushering
lines of purring vehicles into city
limits — if paid attention to, the continuation
of palette over squat, viscous skyline —
“I am always here for your ponderance,
but not always worthy” — moving
makes reckoning, finds vantage point
in the continuum — smeared sky where
lit-white opaque of smoke stays
low, becomes everything else.