WATERMARK

a poet’s notebook

Established 02004

January 2004

  • First Post

    This is a free-30-day-trial experiment.  Will it stick? We shall see. this heavy braid the only remnant of my youth Continue reading

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  • Autumn

    The roses begin to fade and I consider closing the windows at night but choose blankets instead. I dream that an old friend has taken to drink again, and the pain of it blooms in the dark cavern of my chest, a deep- red lily, a beautiful wound. Berries ripen on the bushes. Uncountable birds.… Continue reading

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  • 02004 Solstice Letter V

    October There is a dead snake on the path, bicycle tracks across its body. Two noisy kingfishers fly from the tennis court fence to the river and back again. A blue heron lifts from behind some bushes; passes by me with its awkward grace; turns so that its slate-grey self has a backdrop of brilliant… Continue reading

  • august 21

    you write that you are ill feverish in some narrow foreign bed tangled in dim damp sheets sun steaming through a dingy window and I hope that you are not entangled so alone what cannot be held must be freely given     Continue reading

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  • 02004 Solstice Letter IV

    August After a time, pain becomes defining, it becomes who you are:  I am exhaustion.  I am pain. One examines the philosophy, the sociology, the spiritual dimensions of pain. One attempts to escape it, tame it, defy it, deify it. Anything. Trying to retrieve dreams is like chasing bubbles; the moment you grasp them, they… Continue reading