Poet Commentaries

Stone Wall Building

Under The Covers

Exquisite, that subtle rise and fall of the duvet.  How wonderfully it creates a pavilion for each inspiration and then knows how to draw close when the exhaustion comes.  

There are her adventurous toes peeking out from beneath the covers.  They look like little scouts playing at the edge of the sheets, oblivious to the precipice and the floor.  Perhaps it is their feedback from outside of the covers that fuels her dreams.

at the edge of the sheets
our pens


Before Winter

under the blanket
two feet explore cool linen
leaves crackle

varied tomes stacked
beneath the shaded night light
from deep to dappled

under the Maple
from deep to dappled
an old man rakes leaves


[]Out of bed

her covers unfold
the bedroom floor creaks
Magnolia buds


Stone Walling

In the spring it arose.
In among the texture
of frozen worm castings
and dry crystalled frost.
It was not ready to be popped.
I would watch it rise and ripen,
looking for the tell tale sign
of the centre whitening
and a moist darkened circle
forming around it.

Their is excitement.
It’s a big one.
A large stoic repository
of all things carbon
and fleeting.
I already have for it
a fitting place
and I am so excited
about its whispered stories.

She sits at her computer
her ear phones on,
pressed down by pressures
I do not know
heaved by a frost
I do not feel.
I can quietly wait.
This stone too will warm
and be removed from her garden.
It will lodge in our stone wall
between our yards.
I may help lift it
and find it a niche,
where it will bleach in the sun
and be the place
where moss and seed nestle.

Together, always later
we will listen
to fossil scars,
diamonds shining
and embers crackling
somewhere in the depths.

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