TOM CLAUSEN ant ant ant ant ant seven
September 30, 2011 § 1 Comment
After The Pleasant Part
:
:
from the soil
in the shovel
a beetle crawls
:
low cloud cover
early in the morning
her tight dress
:
in the tall stand
of evergreens
my cookie crumbs
:
reflections
under the bridge
a man fishes
:
without her friend
on the bus
her face
:
no one home
on the hard ground
a light snow
:
carried on
the flooded river
a beach ball
:
spring
removing the neighbors
from view
:
while they investigate
the accident outside
I order pizza
:
wild cherries in blossom
their land rough
with junk
:
all I know
she has a blue star
on her left breast
:
gray daybreak
her “to do” list
from yesterday
:
at 70mph
what I saw
wild turkeys
:
keeping quiet
last of the day’s light
on new grass
:
asleep
in the fallen scarecrow’s lap
a cat
:
the War
a woodchuck nibbles
beside the freeway
:
at the next urinal
he studies a tile
higher up
:
garden walk
she checks herself
in the pond
:
the crow
in me
gets a response
:
dentist chair
the sun comes and goes
from the window
:
cemetery
tracks in the snow
lead out to the road
:
the habit of looking
where it used to be
the mirror
:
on her cell phone
going into the building
“I love you too”
:
on time
the daily truck load
of pigs
:
after the pleasant part
of our walk
we hurry
:
warm spring day
a bra
in the bushes
:
the chain link fence
runs into
highwater
:
writing him
the second letter
without complaints
:
dinner over
he addresses
some crumbs
:
heavy overcast
between bench slats
a sprout
:
:
JON CONE ant ant ant ant ant seven
September 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
Yet She Tells You About Owls
:
:
I look for my ax sounds of distant trains
:
Horns swirling my ruined reeds
:
Cup your hands hold the iron water briefly
:
After the storm all morning gathering tree branches
:
Wondering about the unreadable billboard I boil an egg
:
Ropes and bags of sand even I remember the old garage
:
Plums in a plastic bag on the picnic table the fountain lights
:
On the path to the water pump sky filled with stars
:
At a loss for words using bleach to clean your infected toe
:
Laundry on the line grasses move in the ditch
:
Stirring ashes with a stick crudely drawn phallus
:
The pond is frozen hard nipples beneath your shirt
:
Three pennies in a urinal full moon tonight
:
Before the universe not even nothing to piss you off
:
Toy truck rusts in the sandbox measureless grief
:
You don’t even like her yet she tells you about owls
:
The juniper is ill with mold I need new eyeglasses
:
Sprouting through plastic grass seed left in the rain
:
The hammer feels warm I wipe my face with a rag
:
Paperbacks my glasses a change tin decorated with pin-ups
:
Near the lonely summer telescope an outhouse steams
:
Thunder approaches at my desk writing a letter
:
Scanning the phone book you find your name
:
In the barn straw dust climbs a column of light
:
Summer already I catch flies with my bare hand
:
By this time next year you won’t even remember why
:
T-shirt wet with sweat working the lower register
:
The wasp you don’t really like begins a new nest
:
On the hill of flowers your ragged mouth gives me ideas
:
Black angel in need of repair it’s just me lousy with tools
:
:
JON CONE ant ant ant ant ant six
December 3, 2010 § 1 Comment
I OFFER YOU AN EYELASH
:
building a stone fence a scattering of feathers
:
smell of incense meat scraps in a plastic bin
:
mouthful of willow rain on the shed roof rain wherever
:
lifting up your dress from behind fire-scorched land
:
basket filled with stones the graveyard we wandered in
:
dreamed we lived in a corn maze what a curious word chthonic
:
axle grease on a rag blunt ruined fingers and eucalyptus mist
:
wasps by the pump only the four elements are real
:
the cloud-edge on the horizon deer head in the freezer
:
the shade of a hemlock I offer you an eyelash
:
M. KETTNER ant ant ant ant ant five
May 18, 2010 § 1 Comment
WRENCH IN A COFFEE CAN
:
words
spent fuel
gum beneath counters
:
dawn / a can of spilled paint
:
after we part
a glove floats by
on the river
:
fast moving clouds / picket fence missing a slat
:
Secanol
Ping-Pong ball caught in a vacuum
parking tickets unpaid
:
your hair drawn back / the sharp taste of radishes
:
snow-covered fields
sound of a distant truck
changing gears
:
scratchy throat / wrapper caught in a fan
:
cavity
crow shadow
on snow
:
the back of your neck
through the rain
a car’s horn
:
autumn wind / sliding over empty table tops
:
no one home
dust ball
base of a chair leg
:
blocking the alley / a rusted water heater
:
list growing
waves eating away the shore
pull-chain worn
:
sitting on sandpaper
your hesitation
a hole in a plastic bag
:
teeth just cleaned / new bake-ware
:
Saturday rain
wrench in
a coffee can
:
through cattails / a refinery
:
one of those days
vacuum cleaner
in a vegetable garden
:
black of moonless waters
two front teeth
missing
:
biting her nails / coffee cold
:
old puddle
in the sediment
dead worms
:
winter’s endless rain / the scorched bottom of pans
:
wind
blowing through the house
fingerprints on the mirror
:
quiet afternoon
at home
full penny jar
:
spring thaw / tarp pulled back
:
overnight
in an unfamiliar city
slug in a vending machine
:
dusk / the spray-painted traffic sign
:
stark escarpment
heart a bag of rocks
ocean a distant pool table
:
JIM KACIAN ant ant ant ant ant five
January 11, 2010 § 1 Comment
The Slate Step Brightens
:
:
mating dragonflies
the slow folding
of her wings
:
:
out on strike
the uncomfortable hang
of his hands
:
:
winter morning
the scrape of a coat hanger
across its rod
:
:
cemetery
the sharp edges
of the new names
:
:
after rain
the blueness
of fireflies
:
:
20 stories below
the gestures of people
are meaningless
:
:
wittling
till there’s nothing left
of the light
:
:
cold snap
the automatic door
opens slowly
:
:
our goodbye
all the places
where we touch
:
:
party over
the long down
of the elevator
:
:
long slow curve
passing again
beneath the geese
:
:
after snow
a faint yellowness
to the white house
:
:
light rain
the slate step
brightens
:
:
visiting home
in my childhood bedroom
the same shadows
:
:
the mathematician’s wife
pregnant
again
:
:
the river
the river makes
of the moon
:
:
slant of light
the dialect
of the region
:
:
throwing away
the envelope marked
“simplify your life”
:
:
empty mailbox
she leans awhile
on her walker
:
:
new green leaves
a child I don’t know
waves to me
:
:
New Year’s Day
a message on
the answering machine
:
:
mosquito
I hit nothing
but myself
:
:
slow dance
feeling her smile
in my neck
:
:
TV store wall
every sky
a different blue
:
:
midnight thunder
the clock
starts over
:
:
morning dew
no hiding the way
we’ve come
:
:
first autumn wind
not feeling the knife
slice my finger
:
:
excavation site
the holes
living things leave behind
:
:
practicing
to make my signature
look natural
:
:
equinox party
returning home
the way I came
:
: