wieldy

On the Beach

by Catherine Daly



We put stuff in buckets:

water

the surf at Big Sur (lonely cypress)

sand

flowers.



We empty pails

and use their flat surfaces as drums.



Self consciously we swim,

vacant as swans.

Or An Aberration, Twice Underlined

by Maurice Oliver



But memory

can talk like a pen

in lamplight or ink or a desire

that no one can steal 

or disappear like rings of smoke

in bought tobacco or Cd's scotch

so goes the course of moms & dads

or willows weeping little

over plants or animals

or all the need of annihilation

beside that of vision

memory cradles us in her arms

or just a wet sleeve in the rain

far cheaper by the loaf

the shepherd the weaver the loom

or an apple tree in the courtyard

much too enormous to fathom

it pushes through the thick head

of willfulness as lights go out

or down rickety stairs

into rain sleet hail fogging

the eyes of yes   or ringing

the doorbell   off & on

Ah, 2005. I'm hoping to continue to add content here, although the end of 2004 was not entirely promising and I'd even thought of giving up. Does the world need another poetry e-zine? Does it need another blog? Is it worth my time?

It's simply too easy to give up and, even with lackluster submissions and interest, it will go on. At least, temporarily. So, if you know people, if you like what I'm displaying here, send me your toiled, your labored, your uncared for poems. I really to want to read them and other people might.