zinc words & images

  • Scenic

    The shape of your waist is a bolt of red satin wrapped around a spool. The woven ripple makes waterfalls and valleys, lines and angles. I can see you, a pillar, red, against the sky, against mother earth and father city.

  • Vision

    Do you value beauty, Black bird, black eye? Behind my garden wall I buried seed and stone While you watched. A Mosquito pricked my arm As I brushed aside a Yew branch left from some Past life I couldn’t remember. A gust carried you to My roof and you spoke, Though I could not Hear…

  • Evening snow

    Snow crisped the leaves That had settled Near my doorway.   My eyes met the oak tree’s As it stood guard against the wind.   Through the window, I could see this and the Remaining Christmas trees, On the neighborhood curbs.   When the evening dims, The windows across from me Become the artificial fire…

  • Feast

    A crisp edge on my plate At Le Quartier. I’m Reminded of the Saline oysters which Hemingway consumed And then described. Perhaps It is less the food than A feeling of timeless Observance. A table, A chair, sustenance and Pleasure. If the day is Cloudless, fine, but with A few clouds all the Better. In…

  • Flora

    Some say opening, blooming, But each petal unwinds Itself across the air, Denying gravity’s hands And existing only for itself And its encircled sisters.

  • Shadow passing

    I stayed up To watch the sun Rise in your eyes. It was every Expression Imagined. You became warm And enriched, Burning even. Your palms glowed, Ripe with lengthy Summer light. I took your hand In mine and was radiant.

  • Untitled

    Wood wraps it’s way Through the ground. I Have read without Fungi, trees don’t thrive. The muck makes it Possible to live A canopy dream. Air Shifting your body To the rhythm of each Passing cloud. If I wrap my knuckles Along its trunk, I can Feel its skin, the rough Whorl of time. The…

  • If Not for Water

    Keen, I am not. I’ve seen the white tipped Ocean waves beyond The shore. If I hold My fingers in a frame I can become close enough To taste salt and feel The water in my ears.   Remembrance places Me above the wave, holding Still while the current changes Its mind and pushes me…

  • Open heart

    Seeing you is a riot To my eyes. In it Is roiling memory And that sense (you may be   Feeling it, too) of each Rib cracking itself to Introduce my heart to The midday sun as it seeks   To brace itself against Recalling your closed Eyes, your hair pushed Behind your ear, whilst…

  • Golden flood

    The wheat waits for us Brushes and waves Licking the moonlight It’s seed ready for an Odyssey. The grass has laid a graph Of shadows on top of you. And what do you wait for? There is never a right time To become what we wish we weren’t. Failing silence, I speak to say Tomorrow’s…