Saturday, October 31, 2009

Weekly Worded


Virus Detection

Able was a one, Cain a zero
and they’ve replicated themselves
since the beginning of time,
not an apple or a snake
but a virus making its way
up the evolutionary ladder,
pointing its little flashlight
toward our dim event horizon.
Had we caught it then,
the whole system -- planets
and stars -- would not have crashed,
and we’d be looking for
original programming, not sin.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Weekly Worded


Bird in the Barn

With the big doors wide open
I can see how a bird
might enter the barn
but I can’t understand
why the bird won’t fly back out.
It rests on a rafter high in the loft,
exhausted after fluttering
from peak to peak
each time I walk through the door.
It believes in rising,
that the plywood will part,
that the shingles will scatter like leaves.
Such a small bird
to contain so large a belief.
Such a large barn
to trifle with a thing so small.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Weekly Worded


The Zen of Cat Doors

I wish I knew
why the cat won’t use this door.
He’s watching me
with his inscrutable look.
I’m down on all fours
trying to encourage him
to walk through walls, a kind of cat miracle
akin to the fishes and loaves.
He’s interested but can’t decide
if his freedom is worth
releasing me from servitude.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Weekly Worded


The Looter’s Sonnet

the graves contain
beads with the bone sandals tools
handmade bowls and cups arrowheads
a cache of common
household furnishings
the living will pay
outrageous sums just to
show off on a shelf in their homes

they must need to own the past
must think I traffic in spirits
as if the dead held a garage sale
with no idea what a pot
from their pueblo was worth

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Weekly Worded


Evening Falls

I could say fall evenings
which would explain why the morning’s so cool
but the kind of fall I mean
rushes over the horizon
as the sun draws away,
a dark spray that cools the grass
and sends a shimmering vapor
of stars into the sky above it.
It’s like a Niagara Falls
as wide as the earth
emptying the universe
into our backyards.
Evening falls
and the babies are sleeping,
the night rushes to fill
every gap,
even the hand in the lap
that falls open, five swirling eddies
surfacing in the moonlight.