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space When a whale dies in the deepest of seas her fall is the song that angels us all. No longer buoyant with air from above, her bulk is down- ballast for great depths. Falling slow—weeks, sometimes months— sharks and crabs … Continue reading ͛... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space All yesterday the South was beset by rain, stormy in places and just drippy in others, dark and chill everywhere. A few days ago worst-ever vortex cold and now a Gulf sheet endlessly squeezes itself out. In the I … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space You sing about loss: I am lament. Comb your blues with my black throat, in meters that have no feet to wind the moody shade. Your songs are suitors: you lured Persephone from her loom, Cerberus bawled for his … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  I heard about the first Earth Day in eighth grade science class, some signage on the wall all Day-Glo and font-fatty about Love The Earth or Give The World a Chance, something green and lovey like that, though it’s … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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spacspace It’s the absence of shadow blue which fails the picture, awareness drying too fast, without the yearning to quench and passing on bare, unsated, unaware even of its need. When Navaho weavers starting making rugs for tourists the distaff … Continu... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space On perfect days like this—after the coldest night of a short snap, temps rising gently into the 70s, wan and sunny, skies so blue and still and pure—I think of the day after the night my brother died now … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  You’re still on that island, I know, your t-shirt still sweaty from your last bright springtime run, your eyes still blue as the sky which no longer oceanned you. You are that sunny rock because Salem by the time … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Tonight, thank Heaven, Your hand is close,even heavy on my brow. Has it been that long?Like a mineshaft is History, deep and cold; all our past lives labor somewhere in it, hearingthrough the wall the voices of distant singersfrom … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Losing everything is least like falling in love yet most akin to it: Different waterfall, same cascade. Remember that flush of that first kiss, the wild tremor of anticipation as you passed through the sacred portal, all of your … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space He’s a bit of every one of us who failed to come back from the Great War. Observe how he was assembled from the charnel loam of Passchandaele: torso of the Brit picked off barbed wire, hand of Boche … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space It was coming on Christmas 40 years ago when I found myself alone with Dena in her bedroom, down at the end of a dark hall in her parents’ high-rise over Lake Shore drive: A bitter cold night, wind … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space They float across the pond in boats of folded poems. Occasionally one dips the clef of her neck beneath the ripples, chasing depth and gripping down. When her head returns it shakes her entire body free of water as … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com