Tag Archives: D. R. James

Airport Relativity

First person and present tense must strike you as odd— how I could both greet and record your emergence from this crowd of funneled souls, recount details that never occurred, at least not regarding your arriving at 4:10, then 5:25, … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Reprint | Tagged | 1 Comment

Flip Requiem

Only black-and-tan clumps cling anymore to our oaks (raking finally making sense), which stand silent as pickets this side of winter’s no-longer fierce or precise approach. I’m over a father’s death, an angry mother’s postmortem reach (though there it is … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Reprint | Tagged | 1 Comment

Recycling

When Dad had his easy operation he quit smoking, cold turkey, and Peggy and I traced and crayoned the encyclopedia’s glossy plates. I gave him a cardinal, a goldfinch, a blue jay and still know those basic colors, their cocked … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Reprint | Tagged | Leave a comment

Contrails

            —after a photograph by Colleen MacLaughlin One answer lies in the tropospheric molecules scattering short blue waves and vapor meeting minus-sixty. But what’s the burning question? What orders the eye, the brain, to catch all the colors after rain? What … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Reprint | Tagged | Leave a comment