Another night in Paris in my mind,
Another night of romance by the light
That dances on the Eifel Tower. Find
An iron chair beside me on this night.
I don't deny the romance is the ghosts
Of writers, painters, and philosophers --
Of all the beauty that the city boasts,
Their spirit is what in my spirit stirs
A love for someplace I have never been.
But isn't that what romance always was?
To sit in cafes drinking wine again,
The weight of French a mostly vocal buzz.
I gave up Paris romance, it is true --
But gained a lasting love by choosing you.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Dancing Stones
The stone field lies in chaos in the bare,
Near-freezing, dry, sunlit Antarctic air.
But as the summer ends, the freezing cold
Of night and warmth of day slowly unfold
Their fingers so that they can play a tune
Upon the water, melt to ice, the moon
Inviting all the happy stones to dance
In days and weeks from sizes spread by chance
To loops and circles, order brought to life
By stones of different sizes and the strife
Of freeze and thaw, of stretching, pushing rocks
Around as though they're dancing cranes in flocks
That love to dosado and prominade
Themselves into an order that seems odd
To those who think all order must be made
Exclusively through consciousness that played
The chaos into order. Their white bones
Will not outlast the always-dancing stones.
Near-freezing, dry, sunlit Antarctic air.
But as the summer ends, the freezing cold
Of night and warmth of day slowly unfold
Their fingers so that they can play a tune
Upon the water, melt to ice, the moon
Inviting all the happy stones to dance
In days and weeks from sizes spread by chance
To loops and circles, order brought to life
By stones of different sizes and the strife
Of freeze and thaw, of stretching, pushing rocks
Around as though they're dancing cranes in flocks
That love to dosado and prominade
Themselves into an order that seems odd
To those who think all order must be made
Exclusively through consciousness that played
The chaos into order. Their white bones
Will not outlast the always-dancing stones.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Melina's Haiku
My dad can go in
A car and we see yellow
Sun and a pink pig.
by Melina Keridwen Camplin, age 5
the only help from her father (me) was in spelling the word "yellow"
A car and we see yellow
Sun and a pink pig.
by Melina Keridwen Camplin, age 5
the only help from her father (me) was in spelling the word "yellow"
Monday, November 19, 2012
Thor's Day
The land left right of Monday told
Me once of time's asymmetry,
How matter matters more as cold
Sings liquid crystal to a tree.
And so it sang its mournful tune
Of all its tragic future past,
Displayed its properties at noon,
That being first will make it last.
And out of all the time it's rent
From just this side of Sunday soon
Will see its profit will be sent
To benefit the hungry moon.
The lunatic has now declared
To all its feathered plan, so bold --
That broken lives will soon be paired
With wealth as we dig bottled gold.
Me once of time's asymmetry,
How matter matters more as cold
Sings liquid crystal to a tree.
And so it sang its mournful tune
Of all its tragic future past,
Displayed its properties at noon,
That being first will make it last.
And out of all the time it's rent
From just this side of Sunday soon
Will see its profit will be sent
To benefit the hungry moon.
The lunatic has now declared
To all its feathered plan, so bold --
That broken lives will soon be paired
With wealth as we dig bottled gold.
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