Thursday, September 17, 2009

Confused Clouds

Where a dog bites
the head off his
stuffed chicken-
the mess you come
home to. Wet, nonabsorbent
fluff. Scattered and strewn
on the berber blue rug.
That not quite gray
but still depressing color.
The tree with split trunk
tries to divert the eye
but you look up anyway,
not through. It's still
mid September so the
leaves are curled with
untrimmed, gangly branches.

Lighthouse through a
metal fence, cloud parts
through wired skyline.
Patio furniture- white
fence barricade. Where do
people live? No one enjoys
the sand now- it's too
much to walk over the
bridge. Only life I seen
was in an electric vehicle
combing the sand. Forcing
back erosion, so America.

Now, at the bench the
water, more berber than
the sky. Rippled, textured
dobby of gray. Look up at
gray no sunbirds clouds.
Chilled. Sedum beside me
last flowerhead of a
generic, contractor daylilly.
These are not shore plants.
Salt water tolerant, sandy legs.
Only the yucca survives.
The Montauk daisy
sprawls in hopes of
smelling the tides.

Bicycle mailman, trashcan blue
camry. Imitations of my
clouds blocking sky. I went
to the shore, from across
the bridge to find sponge.

This is my sky. Structure
roof, array of colors. Poke
through air, backdrop, not
solid. Empty garage we
dwell with cats, plastic
tubs and weeds so beautiful
grow through the floor.
White top seeds spreading
generations. We can knock
down this structure and
not lose a thing.


TC said...


Swell poems. Especially like the last two stanzas of this one. That trashcan blue camry.

I see you are posting up a storm, and here I'd thought Scott the most prolific poster in your state. He must be your pupil.

Rachel said...

Thank you Tom. I'm so glad you came for a visit. I really enjoy your work.

I simply have more time than Scott. I don't know how he does it all!