November 1 poems

Two poems for today. The first by myself and the second by Anja. Keep in mind that writing a poem a day does not allow for much revision, so consider them first drafts.

I’m trapped by beauty,

when theses mountains

come tumbling down around me

and I find myself blocked in

by dense forest and a raging river,

and an immense talus field

at the foot of a great peak.


I’m trapped, not because I can’t get out,

but because I long to stay here.

I’ve chosen this imprisonment

with it’s shaggy barken bars

and impenetrable granite walls.


I’m trapped by this beauty,

She’s lured me here,

taken me, cast a spell on me.

She dances in the wind

beckoning me deeper into

this dark wood, further

into this delightful

prison of peace

where my mind is clear

and I can think, and plan

and just be,

without the distractions,

without the heartache,

without the despair,

November 1, 2017

“There’s the slightly intoxicating feeling that accompanies the largest blizzards—the realization that there’s a chance, increasing by every second, that you are about to trapped by beauty.”

Rick Bass, The Wild Marsh: Four Seasons at home in Montana


The deer of Mount Olivet Cemetery
are not afraid. Suspicious. The right amount
of distance maintained. Eye contact
before movement. One at a time
they stare head on, ears like satellites
positioned to capture my intentions.
Awareness of my presences infiltrates
their space. One by one they group.
Two cross their necks to whisper
in each other’s ears, did you see
the human in the cemetery – is she here
for us or the dead? The people on Mount Olivet
maintain more distance. They make eye contact
with stones, ears to the ground.
I want to stare, observe
their movements as if they were a pack
of scattered deer. People spook
too easy. I am a nameless dateless tombstone.


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