Telescopes reveal the heavens
buried deep within our brains
relics lying in the dirt
transportable
(not for amateurs, this
circulating blood)
Seemingly random singers
blossom harmonies
of the heart: overtones
ephemeral
Another found poem, sourced from this NPR article about “close listening” in the medical field.
So these were the clues in the dirt
(a very holy mystery): clearly
a reliquary, silk sash with silver
sequins mixed with teeth
and pitted jawbones
Our men were destroyed
with cruel diseases, burning
fevers and by wars—
some departed suddenly
(mere famine); life was hell
A found poem sourced from this NPR article about archaeological discoveries in Jamestown, Virginia. Trying to get my brain focused and writing juices flowing again after our family’s transatlantic move.
because it’s sparse
a ring of dark
we just can’t
(black dust
in blackness
streaming off)
immersed you’d see
a swarm of moons
a whole spectrum
all the way down
to debris
Found poem from this NPR article about Saturn’s biggest ring.
on display today in London
bastion of civilized contradictions
fossils skeletons stuffed specimens
on the spectrum from dinosaurs to dolphins
seen through all these shades of humanity
from Adam man alone has the past as burden
a future dimly seen through history twisted
mislaid misrepresented cut down on a whim
like a thousand-year-old tree collected labeled
arranged by color and date and purpose in glass
cases to admire our own wars and weapons
teeming termite-hills of fear and greed
the paper trail of our forbears magnificent
jumble and the thing I want to do I cannot
make heads or tails of these Latin lines
translate virulent wonder into beauty
a POINT neat and prim as Jefferson’s
handwriting logical legible underscored
for the good of all people
I am processing a weekend trip to London which included a visit to the Natural History Museum, the National Maritime Museum, and the British Library’s exhibit on the 800th anniversary of the Magna Carta, where I was captivated by Thomas Jefferson’s handwritten copy of the Declaration of Independence.
Your atoms have danced
through the heart
of the sun
flashing
achingly golden
We will spin and flare
there again
unknowable words
in flame-bright
song
It is spring on Saturn’s Titan,
thus the white sheet of ice-pebble
rain over black wind-whipped lake,
the blossoming of sudden spume,
steep rivers in spate and we need
no longer moan how we hate
the years-long winter
Back on Earth they’ll celebrate
these glimpses, telescope distant
shift of shadows, the bright spot
in smoke-and-mirror atmosphere,
the long dance in rusty sunset,
gas-fired hum of temptation,
consummation
Inspired by this NPR article about some astronomers’ recent excitement about springtime changes on Saturn’s largest moon. It tickled my imagination…
I am poured and swelled to bursting
like the brimful cup. You would say,
surface tension. You would say,
internal pressure. The molecules
at the top, not being surrounded
by the same, are pulled, irresistibly,
inwards. You would say, this contractive
tendency allows the surface to resist
external forces. It will push back.
I would say,
it makes perfect sense.
I would say,
I can even name the molecules:
failure, love, grief
wrongs, love, forgiveness
child, parent, love
Starting out in a completely different place, I found myself using lots of repetition, perhaps still pondering Quickly’s Prompt for April 22. Thanks to Wikipedia for a crash course in “surface tension.”
Graceful Press Poetry 