Friday, October 31, 2003

Studio Window Ledge

The cloud white stones
chosen on a Greek beach
surround the window
clasp and float
over the brush
bristles and gaping jars.

An empty jade St. Peter's
summer ale bottle stoutly
stands, unjudging and indulgent.

Brush handles radiate
from the salt-glazed mug,
the ashes of dead lovers,
and the empty whisky bottle tube.

Standing straight, Nirvana,
The Go-Betweens and Dead Can Dance,
mute and penitent, wait
to be redeemed from the shelf.

Acrylic, ink and oil
have dried in the ferrules -
colors and strokes
for a painted paradise.

Note

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Clarity Ends At Home

In
focus
is home,

Thank you

--Kerri Boos

Note

Clarity Begins At Work

In
focus -

If you have it
please
return
to the front desk,

right
away.

--Kerri Boos

Note

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

As the Crow Buys

My mother helps in a folk art shop.
One day a woman "not from 'round here"
In red leather pants and a bandana
On her head bought a bed frame.

The check drawn on a
Hollywood merchant bank
Has a familar name,
"Are you the Sheryl Crow who
Lived across the street?"

Note

Care and Use of Your Body

Your body contains
Delicate and sophisticated
Instrumentation. Your skin,
Eyes and brain will break if abused.

Protect your body from physical abuse.

Do not immerse it in liquids.
Do not expose it to extreme temperatures

And do not put it under pressure.

--Adapted from Care and Use of Your RSA SecurID Token

Note

White Toyota Corolla

There is a car
In the parking lot
With its lights on,
Space #113.

Is it yours?

--Kerri Boos

Note

After the deluge

So they're up there, ya know?
Flittin' and flyin',
Cheepin' and honkin' and squawkin'.
And, no, uh, I see no doves or ravens.
Jus' gulls and grackles and geese.

Note

Monday, October 20, 2003

All Things Must Pass

Sunrise doesn't last all morning
A cloudburst doesn't last all day
Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning
It's not always going to be this grey

-George Harrison

Note

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

The grain tanker "Alabama" from
Monrovia sits at the elevator.
The crow struts on the railroad track.
Clouds rest above the Sound.
I am biking to work.

Note

Saturday, October 11, 2003

The First Flowers
From the German of Hermann Hesse

Beside the brook
Towards the willows,
During these days
So many yellow flowers have opened
Their eyes into gold.
I have long since lost my innocence, yet memory
Touches my depth, the golden hours of morning, and gazes
Brilliantly upon me out of the eyes of flowers.
I was going to pick flowers;
Now I leave them all standing
And walk home, an old man.

--James Wright, The Collected Poems

Note