Sunday, January 27, 2013

Writing Poetry on Paper Clouds

Written Receipts for Paid Attention
January Crow by Michael Douglas Jones




My poet heart is writing on a pass of paper clouds moving left to write across the frozen northern fields; a crystal breath, billowing, filling the late afternoon with wonder and words that appear, and disappear, in moments of vivid crescent light and violescent shade.

Crows flock in as punctuation; a caw here, a comma there, returning to roost in the fine handwritten script of bare maple branches. Turkey vultures sail in too, crossing the T's of hickory trees, and underlining the rhyme in blueblack. From my cottage, to the south behind, a faint scent of bitternut smoke colors this poem in bittersweet.

And here I stand in the still, below the westwrit wind; my pencil in my pocket, my poet heart tucked up my sleeve. I raise my hand to write this down, to carry it in leatherbound, but the pencil pulls the poem apart, and all of this begins again.

My poet heart is writing on a fade of falling dark.






6 comments:

  1. Your writing blows me away, I feel every word. Beautifully written.

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  2. Your poet heart is filled with perfect poet words, and I love when you wear it on your sleeve.

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  3. a caw here, a comma there . . . and crossing those ts. and yes, poetry written by your poet heart. such images and movement, such words. such you. amazing.


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  4. Your imagery never fails to blow me away. Who needs pictures when we have you writing such beauty as this? :)

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  5. this is absolutely haunting. beautiful writing. exact
    descriptions that transport one there. thank you.
    tilda

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