Friday, April 29, 2011

Golden Retrievals

In his book of poetry called Sweet Machine,  a lovely poem by Mark Doty called "Golden Retrievals." 

Fetch? Balls and sticks capture my attention
seconds at a time. Catch? I don't think so. 
Bunny, tumbling leaf, a squirrel who's -- oh
joy -- actually scared. Sniff the wind, then 

I'm off again: muck, pond, ditch, residue
of any thrillingly dead thing. And you? 
Either you're sunk in the past, half our walk, 
thinking of what you never can bring back, 

or else you're off in some fog concerning
-- tomorrow, is that what you call it? My work: 
to unsnare time's warp (and woof!), retrieving,
my haze-headed friend, you. This shining bark, 

a Zen master's bronzy gong, calls you here,
entirely, now: bow-wow, bow-wow, bow-wow. 
 

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Great beyond...

Out walking the dogs I came across this seductive staircase. Maybe someday...