Sunday, March 20, 2011


in a moment's whimsy
i imagine that the whorl of wire
above my head
is buzzing with information
that spins
in ever-tightening
until reaching
critical velocity
it races skywards
into the clouds
that crackle and hum their soft approval

and the rain that falls
falls as words
that gather in storied puddles
that overflow
running like poems
along news-covered streets
and empties into narrative lakes
where, dipping your mind's cupped hands
into its lettered body
you bring the watery syllables to your face
and feel it's simple complexities
trickle down your cheeks
like haiku


Bonnie said...

Clever steven ... it has a lovely flow. Love "complexities trickle down your cheeks like haiku".

Shaista said...

Steven, you've got to read this poem aloud to someone, host a poetry gathering just for those poems running down your cheeks like haiku...

Valerianna said...

Interesting, such an industrial inspiration. Different than frozen water or even abandoned houses... From wire to haiku, I like that!

Linda said...

I think Shaista is on the right track. It needs to be a party by the lake. We can all write poems on origami boats and float them in the water. Invite Dave (pics and poems) because he has the best haiku. Even if it never happens, and Dave won't come ... it's too far, it's been fun imagining such a party. Second thought.... Dave could hitch a ride with Will and Kate, who are likely coming to your neck of the woods in June. lol

lines n shades said...

" storied puddles "... i love that.

Helen said...

This is wonderful .. both stanzas could stand alone they are so strong.

Just once in my life .. it would be an honor to meet the many bloggers whose creations fill my heart. You would be on that list .. Dave too.

Linda Sue said...

All that has been said- ditto! This poem hits me with so many cool visuals and the scent of ozone after rain.

hope said...

Wow..this one was breathtaking!

Reminds me of why I'm glad I learned to read at such an early age...and why I've tried to instill the same in the nephew. :)

steven said...

bonnie - tears are so complex and then so simple. just like haiku! steven

steven said...

shaista - hello! when i write i read to myself. i've never read any of my writing to anyone. hmmmm. steven

steven said...

valerianna - it was a walk home one night and i had seen those wires hanging there umpteen times and these words were right there so i accepted them. i've had in my mind to bring something of the manmade world into this place for a while. it's really difficult to be honest. it just seems that if i were able to find that same goodness in it - well i could settle some very old "scores"! steven

steven said...

linda - i would so be thrilled to sit in the same space as my heroes! it beggars my imagination..... steven

steven said...

lines ' n shades!!! thankyou. i wish i could find the source of words and paint and spend a lot of time there but i'm as available as is reasonable at this point steven

steven said...

helen thankyou for your generous wish! one day when i'm a good writer i'd love to sit in a space with my heroes and let the words rise skywards! steven

steven said...

linda sue - i hope that the narsty bug that has borrowed your body for a while has bugged off to wherever bugs go. next host i think! steven

steven said...

hope - i learned to read ata very early age and i had parents who valued reading a lot!! i owe them the deepest gratitude for so much but especially for giving me the ability and desire to read, to want to know, and to want to shape that knowledge into something useful. steven

Valerianna said...

I know EXACTLY what you mean, Steven! Luckily, art is manmade, its where - whether words or images or musical notes in space or a profoundly open heart - we humans get to be the nature of our beauty, or the beauty of our nature, or something like that....!

steven said...

valerianna, i worked in a factory for nine years and learned about patience and craft, even alchemy, and i saw the beauty - cerebral and sensual - of industry. it's such a difficult thing to express in words because the experience and the rationale and then the understanding is very fragile and so easily suspect in its intention. i have an abiding wish to express it in a way that makes sense to people who may not have been inside that experience that may come true at some point or perhaps in little spaces like this. i've known music and art that describes its edges, sometimes even its heart. my work isn't entirely focussed there, but it's a voice in the choir that wishes to be heard. steven