Poem 66 Revised

Husk of possibility

Digging up arthritic roots

A buttress belldrop out for beauty.

We forgive ourselves for the folly

For which we are wholly to blame.

And instead take on fate like a

Lit flame left out in the rain.

Drop this stick, pointed green like a pen—

Watch it grow into a mangrove despite

Your best efforts to drown it.

Water and weed, we are in-between

We are shouting out through surface tension

We are sturdy like an island—

Current stripped of sand.

Sometimes all you need to root

Is another just like you.

—ECW

 

Poem 66 EditedPoem 66 Original

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Poem 65 Revised

the Water and the Wake

 

When the sea cracked out came a memory

She was a tree limb, she is a ship—all at once

Rootless and full of sky. A ship mistress

Ark’d against the mast, in ecstasy over trouble-waters,

Gulls gailing siren cries make for eyes, her chin

The endless compass of the sea. How many years

Did she live under-sod before they un-buried her bones

How many more can she hold her breath,

Drifting on the whims of a headwind.

—ECW

 

Poem 65 Edited – Poem 65 Original

Poem 59 Revised

I opened the eye of Orion to watch the summer flicker

Downward like a fist-full of crinkled paper.

Some pique with seasons, others pique with time.

As if she eased the tips of those trees to her white-bright match

The hillside woke to embers, over and over, back to the gravel.

A child, entranced by their dance, she points them into step with

Her pink un-ringed finger. She thought perhaps

she would be more graceful. I want to tell her:

It’s falling. When you stand again, then, they will applaud.

—ECW

 

Poem 59 EditedPoem 59 Original

Meet My Twin Poem: Poem 73 Revised

Poem 55 Revised

Family Portrait

 

Two score before my parents wed my father held the branches of three trees:

Peach, Apricot, Loquat; their sapping cylinders fresh leaking of life,

With his knife bore them holes together, and bound them with leftover string.

They grew entangled like the knots of unkept ambition, their fruition

Was never compromised by their scars. Here we are

Slack by our tendons, held together barely by bark

But you and I know the best part about broken branches.

They must grow back.

—ECW

 

Poem 55 EditedPoem 55 Original

Poem 53 Revised

All the history I know

Is the way the dust blows

Sanding the surface to shine.

A west so wild the night howled

At its own shadow and slept

Belt-buckle out to witness Sirius.

The metal on the tip of his boots

An oasis of light, with chinking stroll

He stole the summer and planted

His tumble-weed seeds in Mojave, with love.

Pan wanderer, look away, from this city

Lawned in suburbia. I remember the desert.

I remember the heat. The heartbeat

Of the sun on the valley

when we wrote in ropes the west wild.

—ECW

Poem 53 EditedPoem 53 Original

Poem 52 Revised

Oh! The Earth bursts out between these weeds

Feeds the trees, please return these seeds as I left them:

 

With potential. Holy holy incredible the decibel of husk musk matter

We are a splatter of star latter, what-ever with weather, we sometimes

Grow… didn’t you know…

 

I thought is so, to sew the seeds of my father’s weeds and wait

By the mounds with resounding sunshine. With enough love

We will grow.

 

And when we grow the soil knows…

To look for seeds.

—ECW

 

Poem 52 Edited – Poem 52 Revised

Poem 37 Revised

Metapoem

I am a poem from this side of the states to t’other

Map-scratch these lines and find your trails rugged

With these words, I declare them satisfaction in roads mid-construction

Highways heaved of trees; I am progress—if poetry

Moves forward—I am the windshield protecting inspiration

From misfortune’s wind and ambitious stones.

Thumbs out! Or clutching nubs once pencils. I am

Poetry where I stand or wherever I once stood. Come

Lace-up with me some afternoon baked in the mountainside

I am poetry aching for a destination, for it is destiny

Sending me to you.

—ECW

Poem 37 Original Poem 37 Edited