poetry

archives to ashes

Photo courtesy The Daily Camera.

archives to ashes

what happens when the museum burns down –
the space that’s supposed to hold your history
the archives and artifacts
the record of your past?

we know this happens –
the county courthouse burned down
taking its deeds to the grave
leaving us unsure of our own house’s age

the Library of Congress burned
not once but twice
leaving Thomas Jefferson to reseed it
with his own books

but for these little western mining towns
what burns with the history museum?
photographs, yearbooks, maps and bits of settler life
mine scrip and speakeasy keepsakes

our memories are so faulty
without bits of concrete evidence
it’s too easy to have license
to create a new past

Uncategorized

Leap Day

Leap Day

the leftover fragments of other years
cobbled together
to make an impulsive day
beyond the capability
of my wristwatch to reconcile

what did we pour into
this freebie grabbag of hours?

a luminous sunrise
over islands over water
firing the wood paneling
of our little cabin

watching penguins from our breakfast
of warm rolls dotted with butter
melting to pools

looking for pudús (always)

watching metallic green hummingbirds
zip from fuchsia to pine bough

rambling down the beach path
to join the penguins on the water

taking in the black and white
volcanoes across the way
that mark the continent’s spine

entering the blue white yellow
Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Chonchi
watching the stars wink
above a sea of incense and prayers

coming into Queilén, a warm haven
where the sea can sing to you
and the moon is tipped
in an unfamiliar way

every day is an uncertain gift
each date one that might never arrive
but some are imbued
with a bit more magic
sometimes we have the sense
to savor the day’s passing
before regret can even rise

poetry

walking with you

walking with you

I like walking with you
talking about the plots of our books
and my grumbling knees
while the sun burns down on us
and we take in lava and snow
and avoid massive flies
(while we also avoid complaining
about massive flies)
and plan out which bebidas frias
we will request from Café Thomas
at the end
oh yes
there are so many things
I’ve liked today
but the most refreshing of all
is walking with
you three boys

someday probably all we’ll remember is how
we went up the side of that pointy volcano
in Chile one time –
that was a good day –
but for right now
while it’s all still fresh and textured
and I can see the horses on the trail
and the abandoned hut on the slope
and how I cut the switchbacks
and how you didn’t want to meet the Americans,
while I still know why it was a good day,
I’m going to put some of it down right here,
knowing we’ll likely never go back

poetry

memory/reboot/presence

memory/reboot/presence

every day
I walk around
trying to remember
to hit save

but sometimes
I feel
the green grass
just wants me
to press against it
mindlessly