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Snapshots
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On television, war, murder,
one creamy daffodil scent of clematis goldfish spawning ~ rippling reflections on stone dozens of photos hoping for one perfect snapshot of this perfect day Sharon Brogan night rain brings this green day thick with mist wet scents crows harvesting the lawn pear blossoms fog ribboning the mountain ornamental raindrops cling to spring branches darkness comes again white blooms glow in this quiet night garden oh how i miss you Sharon Brogan yesterday open-toed sandals and opening tulips old lovers come to me in dreams this morning fresh snow whitening the mountains coats and winter boots retired too soon the paper tells me bull trout and cutthroats will find more water flowing through the losing reach between the mainstem river and spawning gravels green exploding skies above Iraq elderly ladies show off their May-Day hats plasticly enflowered and a noted scientist provocateur is remembered as a nucleus of dissension are there rivers are there tulips in Fallujah, in Najaf? Sharon Brogan Dim, humid day. Ominous. The car won't start. The sweet autumn clematis did not survive winter. Bruising photographs, naked prisoners hooded and taunted by pretty young soldiers. Full moon over Mount Sentinel; the garden rich with scent, palpable, tangible. Two sparrows dance on the wood fence, much cheeping and tail-fanning. A friend tells me we are all sadists, all carnivores. The bleeding heart goes on blooming in its shaded bed. Sharon Brogan *** at the altar an old woman counting breaths Sharon Brogan Note: I haven't put the extended poem here, but it's up at Sharon's blog. http://sbpoet.com *** The car won't start and the toilet keeps fractured dreams running. The parakeet died. White fur all along shattered the river- bank, but no blood, no bones. Broken limbs glasses. Garden pavers scattered digits with petals of lilac, mountain ash, strewn across rain. Iridescent black bird ravishes a twisted the feeder. Shrill whistles and ravenish landscape clunks. Dark rising river, muddy, foaming. Sharon Brogan *** too ill to write a snapshot Sharon Brogan *** a week of grief and broken things but then the moon filled out round & this bright birdsong morning Sharon Brogan *** something like that blue cloud, thunder rolling through our valley, hail in the flower beds, or this lukewarm tea in the Chinese mug on the brass table -- something like this sun or this gnat on the page, scents of solomon seal and cigarette smoke entwining in the garden, wind rustling the birches -- something like the neighbor's dog barking at the noisy pickup and rap music from a radio, somewhere -- black pavement gleaming after rain, something like that -- this solitary life Sharon Brogan the sun is out but it's out there and I'm in here bills piled high on the glass table hard ground the rose unfurls day after day it opens itself pale petals gold heart to the sun to the worm Sharon Brogan fatigue the longest day ends pink- skied falling into the dark crevasse whatever vehicle brought me here is lost or won't start or has no brakes grey concrete engulfing even the foxgloves even the budding lily Sharon Brogan they said the trees might fall and take the dike down with them all the willows, the birches even the ancient cottonwood young eagle's perch gone from the river Sharon Brogan The Neighbors Debate When discovered by the social worker, the yellow rabbit was nibbling blooming dandelions, violets and clover on the neighbor's lawn. The growly, circling cats did not disturb it. The rabbit hopped up to the cats and touched twitchy noses. The cats dashed, lickety-split, and dropped into hunting-jungle-tiger poses. The neighbors schemed. Chased & caught & caged, unperturbed, the rabbit washed its face. The prison guard said "Let it go." "Not wild," the social worker warned. "And think, the child who lost it, crying all night," the day-care worker sighed. The rabbit combed its hair. -- Sharon Brogan Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring. Every Wednesday, Poetryetc members were invited to post short poems on any subject or in any form they chose. The idea was to make a poetic collage of instamatic “snaps” of that day that reflected the international membership of the list. The project has generated an astounding number of poems. The first two runs, of six weeks each, and the first ten weeks of the third run, are archived at Wild Honey Press www.wildhoneypress.com under Poetryetc Project. The rest - amounting in all to a run of a year - are archived here. Poetryetc, like its affiliate Salt Publishing (http://www.saltpublishing.com), was founded by Australian poet John Kinsella. Salt is managed by Christopher Hamilton-Emery (cemery@saltpublishing.com), while Poetryetc is owned by Alison Croggon (ajcroggon@bigpond.com). Poetryetc is now archived at http://www.jiscmail.ac.uk/lists/poetryetc.html. and anyone interested can join from that url. To contact the listowner: Alison Croggon These pages are designed, maintained, and hosted by Rebecca Seiferle, the Editor of The Drunken Boat. To email. 
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